'Autistic people don’t need fixing; the Church’s habits do': In Conversation with John Allister

We speak to John Allister about breaking down misconceptions of neurodiverse people within the church.

John Allister is the founder of Neurodiverse Church and the Vicar of St Jude’s Mapperley.

Hi John, could you tell us what inspired you to write Faith, Hope and Autism?

When I realised that I was, and always had been, autistic, it made a lot of sense of some of the things that I had always found difficult about life. I wished that I had known decades before. So I started writing a series of letters to myself aged 18 – Past John – to explain what I wish I had known then. That’s where the book started – it has broadened out a lot now in order to help church leaders, and so others, around people like Past John, know how to include them better.

The heart of the book is simple: autistic people are fully human, fully gifted, and fully part of the Body of Christ; the Church needs to change its habits so that this becomes visible.

What misconceptions about autism did you most want to challenge through this work?

There’s an offensive trope that people like me aren’t really human. For example, in the TV series The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon Cooper is written with a lot of autistic characteristics. People often describe his character arc across the series as “learning to become more human” or say that he responds “in a robotic way”. That’s grossly offensive – people like him do exist, and they/we are as fully human as anyone else; just differently human.

Another big misconception is that there is something wrong with autistic people. Of course, at some level, there is something wrong with all of us, nobody is perfect. But I am not any more fallen or more broken than anyone else just because of my autism. Autism gives me some big weaknesses, but it also gives me some big strengths. Autistic people don’t need fixing; the Church’s habits do.

You write about the importance of belonging within faith communities. What does meaningful inclusion look like for autistic people in today’s Church?

Lots of books that you might read about autism and inclusion see us as just the objects of other people’s charity. But if autistic people are properly included, then we need to be asking about how best autistic people can serve in the life of the church, how our gifts can be used for building up the kingdom of God, and we need to be visible in leadership.

Are there particular biblical stories or teachings that you find resonate strongly with the autistic experience?

Yes, lots, and I use quite a few in the book.

Here’s one – let’s think about the contrast between bricks and stones in the Bible. Bricks, which appear in stories like the Tower of Babel and Israel’s slavery in Egypt, represent human control, uniformity, and independence from God, often leading to pride or oppression. Stones, by contrast, are used in worship and temple-building throughout Scripture and symbolise dependence on God, authenticity, and being shaped by him rather than by human systems. This theme culminates in the image of Jesus as the “cornerstone” (Psalm 118), a stone rejected by human builders but chosen by God as the foundation for everything.

Building on this, in 1 Peter 2, Peter describes believers as “living stones” being built into a spiritual temple around Jesus. You aren’t allowed to use bricks to build somewhere to worship God. Unlike uniform bricks, stones are irregular, with unique shapes and rough edges. This is a powerful picture of inclusion: we are not required to conform to a single mould but are welcomed as we are, while also being shaped in community. The church, then, is meant to be a diverse, interdependent community where differences are both valued and refined, centred on Christ. When that diversity isn’t embraced, the issue lies not with the “stones” but with how the building is being constructed.

Are there specific barriers, liturgical, social, or physical, that churches often overlook when thinking about inclusion?

Loads. The biggest barrier is that most neurotypical people don’t naturally empathise with autistic people, because our experience of the world is significantly different. So almost everything is planned for people who aren’t like us.

Part of the point of my book is to help people bridge that gap by getting to know one autistic person, and encouraging them to get to know the autistic people around them.

One obvious barrier is in employment practices. Most job interviews are structured so they really assess people’s neurotypical social skills, and assume that people’s ability to talk about the job correlates with their ability to do the job, which is demonstrably false when it comes to autistic people. Typical job interviews discriminate in favour of confident “blaggers”, and against autistic people; this is well-known and well-documented.

Another barrier is liturgy. Autistic people often pick up theological imprecision very sharply, sometimes painfully so. A single phrase like ‘welcoming the Holy Spirit’ or ‘coming into the presence of God’ can derail me for half an hour, not because I’m pedantic, but because the words don’t match the theology.

Your book ends with a list of twenty tips for how to help your church be more neurodiverse, are there any tips you want to highlight for anyone who is yet to read your book?

When I speak on it, I tend to summarise the tips as “FEEL” – flexibility, empathy, empowerment, leadership.

I think for this audience, perhaps the most important ones to emphasise are empathy and leadership. Get to know some neurodivergent people well. Read the book if that helps!

And leaders should be using our positions to set the culture, which needs to be inclusive like Jesus is inclusive.

What do you hope readers will carry with them after finishing Faith, Hope and Autism?

I hope my neurotypical readers will carry some empathy for autistic people, and more of a theological vision for why including us is a gospel imperative. All too often, it feels like love for autistic brothers and sisters is missing or ill-informed, and I want to help that love to grow.

I hope my autistic readers will hear that they aren’t alone, and will learn to grow in faith and hope. Hence the title.

When we all see that inclusion is not a burden but a blessing, and when we start to build churches not around an idea of “normal people”, but around the cornerstone who is Jesus and who is different from all of us, then everyone flourishes.

John Allister's new book, Faith, Hope and Autism is available here