This week Archbishop Sarah Mullally shared that neurodiversity is a gift, not a problem to be solved, while speaking at Synod about the need for neurodivergent-led training, structural change, and a network of Neurodiversity Champions across every diocese. She spoke openly about her dyslexia, the assumptions made about her, and the way she learned to see herself as intentionally made by God. Reading this felt like a blessing that landed at a time when I’m still processing my own ASD diagnosis, the battles it took to get it, and everything it has reframed, especially as I received my ASD assessment report the same day this article was published.
The article outlines a clear direction. Neurodivergent people, lay and ordained, are purposefully made by God. Their experience enriches the Church. Barriers must be removed. Training must be shaped by neurodivergent people. Dioceses must appoint neurodivergent champions. Churches must listen. It’s a strong, hopeful and needed statement. It also calls the Church to challenge and transform unjust structures and processes that disadvantage neurodivergent people.
It sits alongside the Fearfully and Wonderfully Made report, which I’ve mentioned here a few times. The report names the institutional issues disabled and neurodivergent clergy face, the narrow gate of discernment, the lack of disability-informed oversight, the misinterpretation of communication, the harmful theology, the pressure to mask, and the emotional cost of navigating a system not built for us. It states that wellbeing is under significant risk because of inherited assumptions and processes. It highlights how disabled and neurodivergent clergy often feel unseen, unheard, or misunderstood. It names the need for training, champions, oversight, structural change, and a need for a Church that listens.
It also connects to the Church of England’s statement last week calling for neurodivergent-led training, diocesan champions, and the removal of barriers that prevent neurodivergent people from flourishing. That same Synod debate included Fiona MacMillan’s reflection on her ADHD, Tourette’s and Autism diagnoses as a “serial unveiling” of lifelong struggle, gradually learning to see herself as fearfully, wonderfully and intentionally made by God.
I understand this well. These points mirror my own experience. My ASD assessment explained lifelong patterns of communication, miscommunication, sensory needs, routines, overwhelm, and common associated issues, like writing long messages, oversharing, interrupting, misjudging gaps, struggling with implied meaning or sarcasm. It explained why my communication was framed as anxiety, dependency, and emotional intensity, instead of neurodivergence by the Bishop.
The article, however, highlights neurodiversity as a gift, echoing the report’s view that “disability and neurodivergence is a strength that brings different perspectives for ministry and thus facilitates inclusion.” My experience with the Bishop and Ordination shows how easily those gifts can be missed when the system doesn’t recognise them. I wasn’t treated as a neurodivergent person but as someone with an emerging mental health issue, despite fourteen years of stability. My ASD traits were misread as confrontation, clarity-seeking was misread as argument, degeneration concerns were misread as impatience, and communication was framed through a misdiagnosis instead of my present reality. None of this should have happened.
The discrimination named in the article and the report is real. It’s structural, interpersonal, cultural, and theological. It appears in the places where disabled and neurodivergent clergy are misunderstood, side-lined, or framed through outdated narratives. It appears when communication differences are treated as instability, assumptions replace listening, safeguarding is forgotten, and the Church says neurodiversity is a gift but struggles to recognise it in practice.
Disability-informed oversight, neurodivergent-aware communication, pastoral empathy, and a recognition of ASD traits should have happened. Separation of crisis-era diagnosis from present stability. A willingness to listen, understand, slow down, and see me clearly. The report outlines these needs. The Synod resolution affirms them. My experience shows why they matter.
I’m encouraged by the direction hinted within the article, hopeful that neurodivergent-led training and diocesan champions will change things, and glad the Archbishop is speaking openly. Her dyslexia deepens her calling. My ASD and FSHD deepen mine. I’m hopeful, yet cautious. Intent must become practice. Training needs to happen. Champions need to be appointed. Structures need to change. Discernment must be accessible. Communication differences must be understood. Disabled and neurodivergent candidates must feel safe. As Fiona reminded the Synod, the celebration of diversity and inclusion is meant to be a core commitment of the Church, and this needs to be seen clearly.
My experience shows the gap between policy and practice, where many still don’t celebrate that diversity. The article shows the intention, the report shows the need, and my story shows the reality still at risk.
Neurodiversity isn’t just a gift for the Church. It’s a gift for calling. My ASD diagnosis didn’t change my vocation. It clarified it. It explained the patterns that shaped my life, the traits that shaped my ministry, the moments I’ve been misunderstood, the resilience I’ve carried, the way I see the world, communicate, care, and serve.
The Church says neurodiversity is a gift. I’m choosing to believe that, live it, show others it, and hope that the Church will live it too.
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