As a parent, I have lived disability ministry in every breath of daily life. My daughter Hannah was born with profound special needs after suffering a massive head bleed prior to her birth. She lived with severe physical and cognitive challenges, yet she radiated dignity, joy, and courage. Her life taught me heartbreak and hope – and why a book like “Accessible Church” matters so deeply.

Sandra Peoples’ “Accessible Church: A Gospel-Centered Vision for Including People with Disabilities and Their Families” (Crossway, 2025) springs from her own lived experience. She grew up with a sister who has Down syndrome and now parents a child on the autism spectrum. She works with churches nationwide to help them welcome people with disabilities and their families. Peoples argues that inclusion is not an add-on but an essential expression of the gospel. The church, she writes, should reflect Christ’s body by welcoming weakness and difference as part of God’s design.

Rather than offering one model of disability ministry, Peoples describes several ways churches can begin. Some congregations integrate children and adults with disabilities into existing programs; others develop specialized or hybrid models. She concludes each chapter with an application section that provides practical suggestions that even the small church can use. Peoples also emphasizes that disability affects whole families – siblings, parents, and caregivers – not just the individual. Churches, she urges, should provide caregiver support, inclusive events, and respite to help families flourish in community.

Culture change in the church is a central theme in “Accessible Church.” Peoples explains that inclusion is not simply ramps or sensory rooms but expecting difference as normal. When leaders see people with disabilities as integral members rather than guests, congregations shift toward genuine belonging. Her book includes stories and case studies that make the theology of disability ministry concrete and provide examples of how disability ministry can look.

For parents or caregivers, “Accessible Church” can be profoundly validating. Peoples names the invisible layers—exhaustion, fear, grief—that accompany caregiving, making the book feel like an empathic companion. For pastors, ministry staff, and volunteers, it offers a ministry roadmap that is both theological and practical. And for churches eager to grow in love and community, it shows how accessibility reflects gospel values of hospitality, compassion, and belonging.

Reading “Accessible Church” in light of my own journey in caring for my daughter Hannah brought home several insights. Peoples’s insistence on anticipatory planning challenged me to think about how churches should expect that people like Hannah will be part of the body rather than treat them as exceptions. Her emphasis on invisible burdens reminded me of the stigma, exhaustion, and sadness caregivers often carry that require community and shared load-bearing. 

I also appreciated her attention to whole-family care. In Hannah’s life, her siblings often bore quiet burdens, and Peoples underscores how important it is for churches to support siblings and parents, not just the child with a disability.

Another area I found useful was Peoples’ discussion of volunteer training. She calls churches to prepare volunteers not only for tasks but also for the emotional and behavioral realities they may encounter, from sensory sensitivities to medical complexity and unpredictable situations. This emphasis on equipping rather than merely recruiting volunteers aligns with my own conviction that buddy systems and co-ministry models create far better outcomes for families.

If I could add anything from my own experience, it would be a deeper exploration of grief and hope. While Peoples touches on suffering and hope, it is helpful to acknowledge loss more explicitly—the loss of ability, the decline over time, the shadow of death—and yet to place it alongside enduring hope. A chapter devoted to the cycles of grief in special-needs parenting could offer both honesty and spiritual encouragement. 

I would also like to see more lived voices of those with profound disabilities themselves. Hannah, like many children, could not communicate in typical ways, but her presence, smiles, and way of engaging the world were a voice in themselves. Including such perspectives would enrich one’s understanding of belonging. 

Finally, churches and books alike should address the long-term sustainability of caregiving. As caregivers age and as children’s needs evolve, the question of ongoing support looms large. Offering guidance on resilience strategies, transition moments, and aging with disability would make the picture even more complete.

In sum, “Accessible Church” is a hopeful and practical guide. For those who have loved, carried, and cared for someone with serious disabilities, like Hannah, this book offers more than ideas; it offers encouragement that belonging is possible and essential. It has given me language, direction, and renewed courage to better pursue disability ministry.

Jamie MacGregor the senior pastor of Cornerstone Presbyterian Church in Delafield, Wisconsin.