When "Perfect" Isn't the Point: A Christian Response to Disability and Divine Justice
Why does God allow children to be born with disabilities?
It's the kind of question that stops conversations cold. It's whispered in hospital waiting rooms, wrestled with in quiet moments of prayer, and hurled as accusations against the very existence of a loving God. And let's be honest—it should make us uncomfortable. We're talking about real children, real families, real suffering.
But here's what we need to understand: this isn't primarily a scientific or biological problem. It's a moral and theological one. And while the emotional weight is undeniable (because it involves suffering children), that emotional weight doesn't remove our need for logical, theological grounding.
The Hidden Assumptions
When we ask "If God is just, why allow children to be born with disabilities?" we're actually smuggling in two massive assumptions:
First, that justice means everyone must enter life on identical terms. Second, that a disorder strips life of meaning or dignity.
Both assumptions collapse under scrutiny.
God's Promise Was Never Uniformity
Here's what God actually promised: not that every human life would begin in symmetry, but that every human life would have purpose.
Consider this: Some lives showcase strength, others showcase endurance. Some display brilliance, others display dependence. But all—all—display the Imago Dei, the image of God.
When we say a child with Down syndrome or cerebral palsy is "not perfect," we're judging perfection by human metrics of efficiency and capability, not by divine intent. We're measuring worth by productivity rather than by inherent dignity.
Justice Redefined
True justice isn't about equal capacity—it's about equal worth. And God gives that worth unconditionally.
The child who cannot articulate self-awareness bears the same image of God as the scholar who publishes books. The infant with severe disabilities carries the same divine imprint as the Olympic athlete. This isn't sentimentalism; it's theological bedrock.
The Sovereignty Question
So why does God permit disability? The answer is both challenging and liberating: Because He weaves every life into His grand design, even through brokenness.
Scripture itself addresses this directly. When Moses protested his calling by citing his speech impediment, God's response was stunning:
"Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?" (Exodus 4:11)
This isn't a cruel admission—it's a declaration that even what we call "defect" is not outside His sovereign design. God doesn't merely allow disability; He remains sovereign over it, working through it for purposes we cannot always see.
The Eternal Perspective
Here's the deeper answer that changes everything: What looks like imperfection in time will be revealed as glory in eternity.
Scripture promises resurrection bodies—no more tears, no more pain. The temporary limitations of a disabled child's earthly body are not the end of the story. They're not even the most important chapter. In light of eternity, these momentary afflictions are preparing an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.
The Alternative Is Darker
Now, let's flip the question. Remove God from the equation—what do you call those children then?
Random accidents of evolution?
Genetic mistakes?
Unfortunate byproducts of natural selection?
On what basis do you call their lives meaningful at all?
Without God, human worth becomes utilitarian—measured by contribution, capability, or evolutionary fitness. Those who fall short become burdens to minimize or problems to solve through selective termination.
With God, their worth is infinite, grounded not in what they can do but in Whose image they bear.
Which Vision Preserves Dignity?
The question we must ask ourselves is this: Which worldview actually preserves the dignity of the disabled?
The one that sees them as evolutionary mishaps in a purposeless universe? Or the one that sees them as image-bearers of the eternal God, temporarily residing in broken bodies but destined for glory?
The answer reveals why this isn't just a theological puzzle—it's a matter of fundamental human dignity. And in a world increasingly quick to determine which lives are worth living, we need the anchor of divine purpose more than ever.
In the end, the question "Why does God allow disability?" reveals more about our assumptions than about God's character. When we understand that human worth isn't grounded in human ability but in divine image-bearing, we see disability not as evidence against God's goodness, but as a profound testament to the unconditional nature of human dignity.
Soli Deo Gloria