It’s said you should never meet your heroes. But Joni Eareckson Tada is different.
I first heard Joni speak when I was 15 years old, sitting in the balcony level of the Waterfront Hall in Belfast. I had heard her story from my mom. I had watched the movie about her life. I knew that she had been in a wheelchair for decades as the result of a teenage diving accident. I had read about how she continued to follow Jesus, sharing the gospel and serving others. Now here she was, in my little home city. I was struck by how much joy she had in the Lord despite everything she faced every day. It was a special night.
I wouldn’t meet Joni for another decade, when we were introduced at a conference in Nashville. Right away, she set me at ease, expressing genuine interest in my work. As soon as she could, she gathered some people around and started to lead us in hymns. I’ve come to realize that this was a very “Joni thing” to do; I don’t remember a time with her since when she hasn’t got us singing. I left that night hoping very much that I’d get to know her more.
By that time, Joni was in her 50s. She had been in her wheelchair—and in constant pain—for more than three decades. Born in 1949 in Baltimore, the youngest of four girls, she was confident, outgoing, and sporty. But everything changed on that day in July 1967 when she dived into shallow water, hit her head on the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay, and was instantly paralyzed.
The two years that followed brought a degree of struggle that’s difficult to imagine. Joni was strapped to a hospital bed. She was often alone. She quickly became aware that there would be no recovery. In this dark night of the soul, she wrestled with her faith in a God who had allowed this to happen—and who was not answering her prayers for healing.
And, crucially, Joni read her Bible. She chose to trust the promise that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Rom. 8:28)—the kind of verse that gets a nod on good days, is difficult to trust on harder days, and requires the Spirit’s supernatural work to believe on the darkest days.
Joni believed it. She still does. Her confidence propelled her out of the hospital and into a series of programs that have transformed hundreds of thousands of lives. Joni and Friends, established 45 years ago, includes a radio ministry that teaches the Bible and helps people understand what it’s like to live with a disability. The Wheels for the World initiative sends wheelchairs to parts of the world where they are scarce and expensive.
Many of us are familiar, at least in part, with these biographical details from Joni’s life. They are inspirational. But, of course, the people we admire from a distance can often seem very different, maybe even disappointing, up close—hence that “never meet your heroes” admonition. Joni doesn’t deserve that warning. After that conference, I did indeed get to know her more. And she remains one of the most genuine, faithful people I have ever spent time with.
One evening at Joni’s home in Pasadena, California, as we waited for our Chinese take-out to arrive, the doorbell rang. Everyone was hungry. Ken, Joni’s husband, answered the door. Instead of simply thanking the delivery man and taking the food, he started a conversation with him. He grabbed one of Joni’s books about Jesus, kept close to the door for this exact purpose, and gave it to him. As Ken closed the door, he said to me, “You have to take every opportunity you can to tell people about the Lord.”
That could be a motto for both Ken and Joni. Joni views her limited mobility, which could be seen as a barrier to living for Christ, as an opportunity. She has used her wheelchair to share Jesus with people who perhaps would listen to no one else.
When I started writing a book for young kids about Joni’s life and faith, I knew I had to include an anecdote from when our daughter, Eliza, was a little girl. It was another visit with the Tadas; Eliza, with that glorious guilelessness that children have, decided to ask Joni a very direct question. “Joni,” she said, “will you ever walk again?”
Joni smiled.
“Yes, I will,” she said. “When I go to heaven, Jesus will give me new legs.”
There are insights only the eyes of suffering can see. There are cuts so deep that only faith can mend them. There are true things that are best proven by a simple, steadfast trust in the Lord. And there is a confidence we all need that grows when we see the Lord’s bright promises piercing the darkness.
These are some of the otherworldly insights Joni Tada brings to all our lives. She would, of course, tell you, and anyone who will listen, that this is all the Lord’s grace. And it is! But it is beautiful to see that grace at work in and through Joni—that grace that is sufficient for and made perfect in weakness (2 Cor 12:9). Elisabeth Elliot, another woman who was no stranger to navigating difficult paths, once wrote, “The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.” This is Joni’s open secret.
Joni Tada is living proof of the promise she believed in the hospital all those years ago: that the Lord truly does work for the good of those who love him, and really does conform his people into the image of his Son, even—perhaps especially—in suffering, when his plans are most opaque. She teaches us how good it is to pray, in the words of a hymn we sang together years ago:
Good Shepherd of my soul,
Come dwell within me;
Take all I am and mold
Your likeness in me.
Before the cross of Christ,
This is my sacrifice:
A life laid down and ready to follow.
Kristyn Getty is the founder, along with her husband, Keith, of Getty Music. She is an award-winning hymn writer, as well as the author of Sing! and a children’s biography, Joni Eareckson Tada: The Girl Who Learned to Follow God in a Wheelchair.
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