The Introvert

A few months ago, I informed my husband that I just might apply to be the groundskeeper of Green Gables on Prince Edward Island.

I will keep the home clean and loved, the gardens tended, and the rest of the time I will walk and think and write, I sighed, happy at the mere thought.

Sounds like a plan, he laughed, a safe answer for this shimmery mirage that will never come to pass.

I momentarily drifted away, imagining the swaying grass, sun-kissed waters, apple orchards, and birdsong.

Bliss.

Perhaps I might even build a clean, one-room cottage on the grounds, a structure with tall, pretty windows, white clapboards, black window boxes, and a porch rocker.

I can envision it now: my Bible, Kindle, reams of paper, and sharpened pencils spread wide across a broad farmhouse table.

Thinking and scribbling for hours, uninterrupted, the breeze blowing strong.

Such are the musings of an introvert.

//

I grew up in a time, age, and place that sought to correct and temper introversion. A reserved nature, a rich inner sanctum was permissible if one was a painter, an artist, or an off-the-grid recluse.

But a little girl like myself?

Not on your life.

One primitive memory takes me back to the sands of Cape Cod. We children were frolicking at the beach, hunched over tide pools, collecting periwinkles and hermit crabs. The adults were a stone’s throw away, sunbathing and chatting, sprawled in a line of canvas chairs, while seagulls mewed overhead and waves crashed, soaking the sand.

Suddenly my mother flew from her chair, unable to see my little brother, a highly extroverted four-year-old, who, according to my grandmother, knew no stranger.

It was true. He could and would and did talk to anyone.

I stood on the shoreline, scanning the beach for my dearest pal. Scrunching my toes in the sinking sand, I shielded my eyes, feeling the sun’s heat browning my back; warming my shoulders.

And then we spied him standing at the base of a distant dune, chatting with an elderly man. When asked why he wandered off, my little brother explained that he was just talking.

I exhaled, while the adults stood proudly smiling.

I marveled at this little brother of mine, forever eager to chat.

Yes, extroversion was better.

//

As my childhood years passed, I intuited the importance of keeping up the extroverted pace, hushing and burying my burning for solitude.

Over time I was signed up for nearly everything, to rectify my homebody ways.

Pioneer Girls, Brownies, needlepoint, macrame, group swim, flute, ceramics, VBS, ice skating, ski lessons, basketball, t-ball, softball, and one tear-filled summer of town orchestra.

Also?

Endlessly revolving playdates with Missy, Kristen, Jennifer, Andrea, Marcella, Amy, Rachel, Julie, Holly, and Melinda.

Yes, they were my friends.

Legion and loquacious.

After full days at school, I longed to pedal up the road and feed our neighbor’s horse a bright, crunchy carrot, or sit on the porch steps and observe the darling chipmunks in our side yard, or lollygag on the fat tire swing dangling from our backyard crab apple tree.

//

We live in a noisy world, do we not? Deafening, in fact. A chaotic culture with throngs of people highly uncomfortable with silence. It is considered prestigious to fill up one’s time indiscriminately, often to the neglect of one’s soul.

Personally, it has been in the lovely well of solitude, deliberate moments of thinking, studying Scripture, praying, and reflecting–purposefully removed from noise and chatter–that I have come to know God intimately and love him supremely.

So yes, I embrace God’s design for me, a happy introvert.

//

It was not until college that I began to realize God stitches his children together purposefully and that we are to praise him for it.

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; (Psalm 139:14)

I was paired with the most extroverted roommate on our college’s campus. She was a midwestern delight—bubbly, chatty, and loud. Go-go-go…a bundle of vigor and non-stop conversation.

I tried hard to keep up, at first. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me headlong into breakfasts, lunches, large group dinners, socials, and incessant events, with introductions galore, all of which caused my head to spin.

This new friend of mine was volume up; silly and funny and smart and a sharer of all personal information.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, was considered off-limits.

She was greatly perplexed by my reticence.

You are a mystery, dear Kristin, and your seriousness can be intimidating, she chirped one night, tossing me a few of her favorite cinnamon gummy bears, as I washed my face after begging off a late-night social.

What in the world are you talking about? I laughed, patting my face dry. There is no mystery. I just enjoy a bit of space and quiet.

She tilted her head, smiling, her eyebrows furrowed.

In time, we became dear friends, patiently learning to understand each other’s natural dispositions. I pushed myself to jump into events by her side, (every now and then) and she learned to appreciate my need to study at the campus library, surrounded by the whisper of books.

It was these years away from home that granted me permission to structure my days, rather than filling every waking hour with a string of socials. It took a fair bit of practice, but by senior year I was thriving in a handful of life-giving friendships. We met at the dining commons regularly, jumping headlong into the deep places.

//

As Christians, it is crucial to understand that introversion and extroversion are personality traits, not character flaws.

God has knit us together, creating his people for good works ordained before our birth. (Ephesians 2:10) It is through our individual personalities that many of these works come to pass.

We are meant to joyfully obey the Lord, being good stewards of the gifts God has granted, while serving one another, and showing honor. (1 Peter 4:10)

Plainly put, there are times I must die to my wishes for solitude, and intentionally move forward in engaging others, caring for and serving people when I would naturally prefer to go for a walk or read a book or study cloud formations.

This is Christianity, isn’t it? Denying myself and in humility serving others. Being an introvert is God’s good design for me, but growing selfish or stingy with my time is not his plan.

The disconnect, I have found, is that extroverts are typically not held to this same standard. Part of serving others, thereby showing honor, is for the extroverted believer to graciously extend the gift of quiet; margins of solitude to introverted people. Or at least to gently understand that for the introverted, time alone is essential before jumping back into the fray.

I have never once heard this mantra spoken. Instead, the refrain I keep bumping up against, over and over and over again is the poorly articulated, yet die-hard notion that introverted Christians must pull it together and become more extroverted.

Not so! Jesus served, engaged, and loved multitudes of people, before retreating to spend time in the quiet places, communing with the Father. (Mark 1:35; Mark 6:31-32; Luke 6:12-13; Matthew 14:13; Mark 6:46; Matthew 15:29)

//

As the bride of Christ, we are one body with various parts making up the whole, created to glorify God through our dispositions. While Scripture is clear–we each are called to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Christ–may we not fall prey to the sinful notion that God somehow erred in his workmanship of our chosen personalities.

I have watched, amazed, as extroverted Christians warmly welcome newcomers into the church, serving beautifully in highly visible ways– throwing parties and events, bubbly and conversational, often fired-up, and greatly energized by people. I have extroverted friends who sprinkle a little pizzazz over my plate, spicing up my days, and I love them for it.

I have observed introverts serving the church quietly and graciously. In fact, I cannot count the number of times such a friend has grabbed my hand and prayed quietly for me with little fanfare, inquiring about my children and grandson, and sending me kind texts and notes, continuously seeking to serve others in oblique ways.

As an introvert, I understand the exhaustion of entering a large gathering and graciously interacting with others. I know well the temptation to vaporize, especially after hours of ongoing dialogue. However, it is good and right to honor others. So I aim to walk joyfully into the crowd, especially on Sunday mornings, lingering just a bit longer, choosing not to forsake the gathering.

May God be glorified.

---