He called himself “the chief of the masquerade party.”
“I knew how to go to church on Sunday and pretend like everything was fine, both at home and in my life and in my heart. That this disability was not bothering me, that I was this happy-go-lucky kid with a big smile on my face, and everything is fine. I knew how to do that well. So all the people at church thought I was a really good Christian boy,” he remembered. “The reality was that I was broken, and hurting, and I was desperate for someone to love me.”
Nobody could know that he was struggling. If they knew the truth, they would know that he was living a double life.
Nineteen years earlier, Tim Smith was born without legs. However, he never felt different than anyone else. His parents loved and accepted him, and a supportive church and community surrounded him. He enjoyed the same carefree childhood as the rest of his peers.
“I just did what all the other kids did. Softball, baseball, basketball, climbing trees, getting scuffed knees, probably playing some really mean pranks on my friends with my prosthetics.”
Just like any other highschooler, Tim developed a deep longing to fit in and find acceptance in others. But for the first time in his life, this struggle felt different. His disability had never made him feel like an outlier before. But now, surrounded by classmates who seemed to fit in so effortlessly, he wondered if he ever could.
“I was created beautifully in the image of God, but sin distorts our understanding of what a good creation looks like. So that was a wrestling process for me in high school, where I began to wrestle with identity and self-security issues.
“I remember people telling me, ‘You’re special. You’re unique. God loves you. It’s okay to be different’. I was just like, ‘I don’t want to be different…I want to be me! And quite frankly, I just want to have legs.’”
Every day, thoughts of inadequacy would dig a little deeper. Everyone else in my class has legs, and I don’t, so something is wrong. God did mess up. God made a mistake. God is malicious. And in Tim’s mind, there was no other explanation. He often thought of what it would really be like to be loved by God. Perhaps it would be through some sort of miraculous physical healing. This, and only this, would quiet the ache inside him – the longing to be accepted, wanted, and loved. But the healing never came.
“I spent years beating myself up emotionally, mentally, socially, making poor choices. And I just became angry towards God. It was because I let the lies of the enemy convince me that I was a mistake.”
As Tim’s distant hopes of belonging began to fade, so did the stability of his home. With his parents on the edge of a divorce, it felt as though everything around him was falling completely apart.
“I dropped out of college, County College of Morris. I wasn’t passing my classes. I had no motivation, I didn’t know what to do with my life. I was getting D’s. And I was still broken. I couldn’t find a genuine friend. Couldn’t find purpose, couldn’t find value.”
On a typical Sunday morning, something shifted.
“I was at church on Sunday morning, faking it like I did every Sunday. The story was from John Chapter 9… Jesus healing the man born blind. I knew my disability. I was born without legs. And that story – I don’t think I ever heard it before – or if I did, it didn’t resonate like it did that Sunday.”
As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.” John 9:3
As the words were spoken, Tim felt as though they came right off the page and into his heart. Right here in the Bible was a man with a disability. And according to Jesus, this man was not a mistake. Instead, he was born with a purpose – so that the works of God might be displayed in him.
The story broke him.
“I’m not sure there’s words to even describe how that emotion could even come over someone,” said Tim. “In the matter of an instant, the Spirit said, ‘I love you’. Jesus said, ‘I love you’. God said, ‘I love you. I made you this way. I’ve declared you to be this way. Yes, you were fearfully and wonderfully made. Yes, I do have a hope and a future for you.’”
What made this moment different, he said, was that he felt it in every part of himself – mind, heart, and spirit – even his emotions. For the first time, he knew deep down that he was loved – not for what he could do or who he could become, but exactly how he was. Crafted and perfected before the foundation of the earth, he was loved by God before he knew God existed.
“That’s both a heart feeling and a mind capacity, to know that I’m loved and to feel loved,” he shared. “Jesus did what he did so we could have redemption and restoration. ‘I suffered on a cross, I died’. That’s about as broken as you could get. ‘But I did that so that you don’t have to feel broken, weak, in a sense, of your disability’.”
When Tim gave his life to Christ, he proclaimed Him as the King of his heart, giving Him the authority to shut out the lies that controlled him for years.
When others ask, “What happened to him?”, his answer is confident: “I am a child of God. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am loved. I have been bought with a price.”
Even if no one else in the universe stood by him, he now knew there was one who always would. One who would never leave, never stop loving him, never stop welcoming him home.
“In my disability,” he said, “I get to be a child of God. A recipient of grace. Not because I deserve it, but because God made it possible. Because God is loving.”
Ultimately, the truth of God’s love counters everything that we believe about ourselves.
“You may feel that redemption is only for the highest of candidates, who have the best applications, who have the best life, the best scenarios, who seem to always be happy. But rejoice! Redemption is for the broken, the hurting, for the weak, the needy, the desperate, the misfortunate, the outcasts, the unloved, the unwanted. It’s for those who feel like they have no purpose or value. Redemption is for everybody.”
Over a decade later, in 2025, Tim visited West Shore Free Church for the first time. With him were his wife, Morgan, and their three small children. They were relocating to the area and heard about West Shore’s disabilities ministry on their website. Little did he know that God was opening a door to an entirely new chapter of ministry.
The disabilities ministry of West Shore Free Church, also known as the A-Team, is a community of believers with different learning abilities. Founded over 40 years ago, the A-Team meets every Sunday morning and ministers to those with cognitive and learning challenges, bringing them further into the body of Christ.
“If you’re discouraged on a Sunday morning, you need to come by the A-Team and join us for worship,” Tim said, smiling. “God’s gonna put a smile on your face just because of the joy that is exuded in that room.”
Since coming on staff as the Disabilities Director, Tim’s heart for this ministry is for its members to experience the same transformation in Christ that he did long ago.
“I want them to know the love of God, because of what that’s meant for me in my disability. I don’t think that’s selfish, but I think it’s something I’m zealous about. I want them to have love, belonging, value, worth, purpose. I want others to desire and embrace people with disabilities. To think about inclusivity.”
Because those with disabilities are part of God’s family, they add value to the church without exception. Because of this, Tim’s vision is for disability to be an organic part of our friendships, our lives, our communities, and our church.
“I love having people with disabilities in my life. I’m drawn to them, when I see them, and I want to engage them. I want people to see someone with a disability and say, God loves them. Jesus loves them. God loves me, Jesus loves me. I want to go see them and befriend them.”
To Tim, the best way to experience this is to simply interact with an A-Team member. The A-Team meets every Sunday at 9 a.m, and everyone is welcome. Engage in a conversation, make a new friend, and see how we are all united in Christ – the same identity, the same purpose, and the same glorious hope of what is to come.
“There’s a part of me in the redemption story. When we read in Revelation, where Jesus says, 
‘Behold, I am making all things new’…that hits different for someone with a disability in a way an able-bodied person will never understand,” says Tim. “There are people in that room, every Sunday morning that can’t hear. They have never heard their entire lives. One day they’re going to hear for the first time in their life. There are people in the A-Team room who have never been able to walk – they’ve been bound to a wheelchair their entire life. One day they’ll get to heaven, Lord-willing, and Jesus will say to them, ‘Behold, I am making all things new’. And they’re going to be able to walk. There are people in that room that have never been able to speak. They’re going to get to heaven one day and they’re going to be able to speak. Because ‘Behold, I am making all things new’.
The desire to fit in physically still affects Tim at times. However, his journey reminds us that the same longing for acceptance in all of us is ultimately fulfilled in the perfect, steadfast love of Christ. In Christ, Tim has found a place where he will always belong – a place where love never runs out and acceptance never fades. That assurance is more than enough.
Learn more about our church’s disabilities ministry, the A-Team, at westshorefree.org/ateam.
Meet the Author
Jessie Soliday serves on staff as our Communications Coordinator. She is passionate about sharing stories that encourage and challenge our church family to draw closer to the Lord. In her free time, she loves being outdoors, spending time with her husband, Josh, trying new recipes, and serving on the worship team.