Different Gifts

I am an introvert. I avoid crowds, decline invitations to large social gatherings whenever possible, and prefer solitude to group activities. I am not good at extemporaneous speech and almost always use a script when speaking publicly, even when in front of small audiences. I prefer to ruminate on questions instead of answering them immediately.   

When I was in divinity school, I struggled in seminars where my classmates and I were always expected to have something to say about the reading the teacher had assigned. In some of these classes we were even graded on the frequency and quality of our comments. Ask me to write an essay in response to a question, and I’m golden; expect me to respond instantly, and I will find it extremely challenging. This learning style often left me feeling inadequate and, on some days, downright stupid.  

I graduated from seminary with little interest in traditional pastoral ministry because it requires a degree of social energy and public visibility that would be difficult if not impossible for me to sustain. Gifts that I recognized in my peers who would go on to make excellent pastors — the ability to preach beautiful sermons from memory or pray profound, poetic prayers on the spot — are qualities that I do not possess. For a long time, this made me feel inferior — my need for solitude and time to formulate my thoughts felt like a liability.  

Many of us live in cultures that frequently place more value on people who are outgoing and always front and center than on those of us who prefer to use our gifts and talents offstage. It’s true in many cultures, and it is also common in our churches, where those with the most charisma are routinely recognized and appreciated the most. But for all you introverts out there, I want you to know that witnessing to our faith in Christ doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to approach strangers on the street and ask them if they have a relationship with Jesus. There’s more than one way to preach a sermon, and there’s a place in God’s kingdom for us all.  

I can’t prove it, but I think Jesus might have been an introvert. I don’t have much evidence to support my claim other than the feeling I get when I read about him withdrawing from the crowds or praying in solitary places. In these moments I see him attending to needs deep within himself, alone with his thoughts and with God, taking the necessary actions to renew his spirit and preserve his sanity. Any introvert can understand what Jesus is doing here. 

Much of my workday is spent alone at my desk — reading, writing, editing. Sometimes I listen to music; sometimes I work in silence. This isn’t the job for everyone, but it’s the one for me. I have found my place, and it’s as essential as any other role one might play in the kingdom. The next time you read a well-written devotional book, admire the stunning stained-glass windows in your church’s sanctuary, or listen to a powerful organ voluntary at the end of the worship service, the odds are good that you can thank an introvert. We are the quiet evangelists whose creativity and work behind the scenes point to a God who loves diversity, honors what we bring to the table, and expects us to be who we are. Like my grandmother always says, it takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round.

Questions for Reflection: 

1. Would you describe yourself as someone who is outgoing and full of energy or quiet and more reserved? What are the challenges and benefits of each of these personality types? 
2. Whose quiet service do you think members of your church community often overlook? How can you show your appreciation for the contributions this person makes to the life of your church? 
3. Do you think that God expects us to be who we are rather than who we think we should be? Why or why not?