<p>​<em>This is the one about whom it is written, 'See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' Matthew 11&#58;10</em><br></p>

<p>​<span aria-hidden="true"></span>Anabaptist Disabilities Network (ADN) is announcing a new Barrier-Free Grant program that offers financial assistance to congregations for projects that facilitate barrier-free community life.<br></p>

<p>​<span>​​Of all the places we inhabit, church should be among the most accessible. Until disability was something I dealt with every day, I might have said we were doing pretty well. We have elevators, handicapped parking spots, railings heading up toward the pulpit. But then I spent this last Christmas Eve at my home church&#160;and I came up against a barrier I wasn’t expecting&#58; gluten.&#160;<span style="display&#58;inline-block;"></span></span></p>

<p>​<span>​<br>When I was a child sitting at a midnight service on Christmas Eve many years ago, a light suddenly shone through the rose window at the front of the sanctuary. I whispered in awe to my older brother, “Look… the light…” He answered, “You dummy. They just turned the street lights on.” Crushed, I accepted his interpretation for years. It wasn’t until decades later that a friend asked me, “Why would they be turning on the street lights at eleven o’clock at night?” Her question opened other&#160;possibilities. Sometimes our ability to embrace sacred moments depends on our ability to be open to them.<span style="display&#58;inline-block;"></span></span></p>