Rest, Not Rules

Finding Peace in Worship as a Neurodivergent Christian

The world is noisy, demanding, and relentless, and for those of us who have sensory differences or otherwise experience the world differently, that noise can feel even louder (I’m autistic, ADHD, and PDA). So often, it feels like the expectations press in from all sides—spoken and unspoken, external and internal—and church, meant to be a place of refuge, can sometimes feel like just another space where we struggle to belong.

But peace is possible. I find it in places where the noise fades and connection takes over. In the music that fills the car on a long drive. In the rhythmic kneading of dough as I bake bread for family dinners. In decorating a cake, carefully shaping beauty into something sweet. In lifting my voice in worship, whether alone or in a room full of others.

Finding Peace in Worship

Worship doesn’t have to look like standing in a pew, hands raised, eyes closed. It doesn’t have to look like traditional liturgies or structured prayer. Worship, at its core, is an act of connection—of pouring out our hearts to God in whatever way feels natural and true.

And when we’re neurodivergent, the pressure to adhere to traditional church structures can be challenging. Hierarchies, unspoken social rules, and expectations of participation can trigger deep anxiety, especially when you’re PDA. When worship feels like another demand, another thing we have to do the “right” way, it becomes suffocating rather than freeing. Learning about and accepting the value of liturgical rhythms helped me accept the “demand” and come to love them, but it didn’t happen over night.

But no matter how we feel about liturgy, we can’t forget that worship isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about performance. It’s about presence.

I find peace in worship when I allow myself to worship in ways that work for me. When I listen to music while driving, feeling the words settle deep into my soul. When move my body—walking, working out, lifting heavy weights—letting each breath be an offering. When I create, whether in the kitchen or with words, knowing that creativity itself can be an act of worship.

Photo by Rory Hennessey on Unsplash

The Challenges of Worship in Community

And while personal worship can be freeing, communal worship often presents unique challenges for neurodivergent individuals. Large gatherings can be overwhelming. Social dynamics in church can feel confusing or exhausting. Many church traditions emphasize obedience, structure, and discipline—concepts that can feel suffocating when PDA makes resisting demands an instinctual survival response.

For me, peace in worship doesn’t come from forcing myself into environments that don’t fit. It comes from giving myself permission to engage with God in ways that make sense for my brain and heart. It means recognizing that I don’t have to pray a certain way, sit still through a sermon, or even engage in small talk after service to be connected to God.

The Gospel and the Gift of Autonomy

One of the most beautiful things about Christianity is that God does not coerce us into relationship with Him. Jesus’ invitation—“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28)—is just that: an invitation. Not a demand. Not an ultimatum. Just an open-armed, gentle welcome.

This is a profound relief, especially for a brain like mine. As I explored and read the Bible, it became clear to me that God is not in the business of imposing arbitrary, rigid expectations. He is a loving Father who meets us where we are. He’s given us a roadmap and calls us to love Him and one another, but He has also given us free will. In His unending love for His image-bearers, He’s given us immense freedom. And for my brain, knowing that I’m free to choose actually makes it easier for me to choose my faith.

It makes it easier to choose the roadmap because God honors our very human need for autonomy, our struggles with demands, and our deep longing to be known and accepted exactly as we are.

Finding and Guarding Peace

So how do we find peace in worship when so many aspects of traditional faith spaces can feel overwhelming?

We start by recognizing that worship is not about conforming. It’s about connection.

We embrace the truth that neurodivergence is not a barrier to faith—it is part of how we were created. Psalm 139 tells us we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” That includes our need for flexibility, our resistance to imposed structures, our deep need for autonomy.

We give ourselves permission to worship in ways that feel natural. To engage a number of practices with curiosity and offer each of them to God. To notice and accommodate the moments when our minds are restless. To pray in movement instead of sitting still. To worship through art, creativity, or acts of service.

And we seek out communities that embrace this kind of freedom—church spaces that focus more on relationship than rules, more on grace than guilt.

An Invitation to Rest

Peace, at its core, is not about the absence of struggle but the presence of something greater, something that can hold and heal the struggles. I find that presence in a God who loves me. One who isn’t demanding or rigid, but kind. Gentle. Understanding. Inviting me—inviting all of us—into a faith that makes room for our whole selves.

Photo by Paolo Nicolello on Unsplash

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Peace."