Paused but not Silenced

On February 24th, I had a meeting that I had been praying over since my Carousel Conversations. I went in hopeful; I came out unsettled. Three weeks later, I’m still uncertain, but needed that time to pray, reflect, discern, and understand the difference between calling and institution. At least to voice things clearly and calmly. 

The meeting was strange. The bishop asked about my mental health and then my faith journey but each time cut me off. She flicked through my Carousel results but didn’t comment, like they meant nothing. She then mentioned the C4 faculty issue. The atmosphere shifted.

In her words, the pathway is “paused." We needed to follow the rules closely as the new Archbishop won’t consider early admission. The bishop wanted me away from my church and put on a placement. Her reasoning is complicated. The length… confusing.

I tried explaining my concern: that delaying the process risks creating a barrier later because of my degenerative disability. It took three attempts before “degeneration” left her lips. Instead, I was “impatient” and wanted “ordination now.” Even then, it didn’t lead to a conversation about what degeneration means in practice. No care. No questions. The decision had been made before the meeting. It was procedural. Nothing more. 

Suddenly, my mental health was an emerging mental health issue, that I now need to validate. My marriage was untested, unreliable,  and vulnerable. It wasn’t discussed — so how can they know? My concerns about barriers were “assumptions.” When I referenced the Church’s own report that discusses the barriers facing disabled candidates and clergy, it became clear it was unread and unknown. I had to find it on the Church website for her. How can decisions for disabled people be considered without disability‑informed oversight? I asked that very question, especially as the diocese didn't have a disability officer — an action now corrected with a "sudden" appointment. I should be happy, but did my meeting, emails, and comments impact this decision? And, does this allow the church to create barriers with their new appointee approving every action? 

The meeting became heated. I hate that. I really do. By the end, she told me to "trust God more." The implication that I don’t hurt. Anyone with a disability like mine has nothing but trust. The fact that she doesn't know that, speaks volumes. 

I left feeling unseen — as a person, candidate, theologian, someone discerning a fifteen-year calling to ordination, and as a disabled Christian that's potentially and complicity navigating life in a world not built for them.

I spoke to my ADDO. I prayed, reflected, and discerned for three days before, on his advice, emailing my concerns. I wasn’t challenging the decision; I asked for clarity, fairness, a disability‑informed process, and opportunities. The reply the next day didn't respond to that email. As if what I wrote meant nothing. It was a new email, detached from my points, stating that I wouldn't be moving forward until 2027 — at the earliest, if I understood the bishop clearly. No engagement. No acknowledgement. Just a reset. An email ready for the moment mine arrived. A decision was made. No matter what. My voice unseen, silenced, and ignored.

That hurt. It reinforced the years of “acceptable” and "justifiable" spiritual abuse and neglect in that system. It reminded me of the lived Church ableism and the ongoing interpersonal and the structural ablesim. The institution, rightly or wrongly, must be followed correctly. 

Even then, I waited and prayed. I asked for a meeting to discuss the concerns properly. I couldn’t ignore the things I felt I had to say. I needed clarity, especially where communication became muddled. That is now scheduled for 13th April.

So why write now?

This is part of my journey. Silence makes the last three weeks feel like they didn’t happen and reinforces the institutionally-imposed silence. I’ve always written openly about disability, faith, and the places where the world rubs painfully against both. Writing is how I process. This needed to be said.

This post is not an attack, protest, or 95 thesis nailed to the cathedral door. I’m speaking about my experience and echoing the Fearfully and Wonderfully Made report. It reminds me to be a peacemaker, someone who speaks truth into injustice, no matter what, and an advocate, speaking up for those who no longer speak up for themselves.

I don’t know what happens next. Should I fight this? Make sure the right conversations happen? Do I just let this happen? Will they deem me unacceptable when they question my health later? What safeguards will they put in to prevent issues and barriers? Why is every system I face not built for disabled bodies? 

I do know this: my calling hasn’t changed. I'm still committed to it, God, my faith, the church, and the path that has shaped my life. The issues I face are human, not divine. However, I am also committed to naming the emotional and spiritual cost of navigating a system that doesn’t always know what to do with disabled bodies, complex stories, or candidates who don’t fit the standard template. My life has always been a fight. It’s just whether this is another one.