As I was reviewing our weekend schedule with my wife, I started to get a little sick to my stomach. We had a going away party to attend, playtime with another couple's child, a birthday party and then another round of playtime lined up. For someone who loves to keep busy like me (see yesterday's post), this should seem just be a dream come true. Sadly, that isn't the case. All the socializing makes me nervous.
Now there are some people who are naturally extroverted, drawing energy from those around them. The more new people and conversations they can have, the better. For as long as I can remember, I have never been this way. I have always presumed, because there was a convenient and innocent sounding label to use, that I was an "introvert." It is a clean, clinical, and defensible reason to limit my socializing. It became such that my wife would cringe before even considering adding something to our collective calendars... I made her feel as though she was "spending" earned points when I agreed to do anything. I know, it is bad news and it is ugly... all sin, which are ultimately acts of selfishness, are ugly when confessed.
This is not a post about being introverted, however. It is about the lie I have been telling myself. The real reason for my apparent introversion is that I view each encounter, each new conversation as having the potential to disrupt the clever self-satisified image that I have created for myself. My "introversion" is really just my arrogant refusal to acknowledge that I am just as bad as everyone else in God's eyes.
In his book, "Trust in an Age of Arrogance," Fitzsimmons Allison writes
"My dignity based on “I’m not as bad as ____” is the persistent and tenacious symptom of deadly Pharisaism... It is the cause of gossip, which is no more than the Pharisee’s wistful hope that God grades on the curve – that God’s standard is not absolute but is relative to average goodness. This hope puts a premium on listening to and spreading bad news about other people. If God grades on the curve I must find as many people as I can who are greater sinners than I am. Then I will pass. If this were true, there would always be room for boasting and pride and an insatiable need to know, and to find glee in, how bad others are. Such a view will never bring us in abject emptiness before God... The idiocy of our times that has emptied God of his awesomeness leaves us with no laxative for our arrogant constipation."
If I continue to refuse the acknowledgement of my own sinfulness and my own continuous and desperate need for grace, I will keep being worn down and worn out by community. Why? Because my approach to community will be based on MY terms and not God's terms. Each discussion will risk exposing the false self-esteem upon which I am relying. If I get my peace and joy from thinking I am the smartest, what happens when I inevitably meet someone smarter? I will either be crushed or respond by trying to find some way to tear them down -- "yeah, he might be smart, but he can't do X, Y or Z like I can so I am still better." If I think I am the most successful, what happens when I inevitably meet someone more successful then me -- "yeah, he might be successful, but he got lucky, I have had to work for everything I've got." The absurdity of these statements I am sure is not lost on anyone. Yet these are the conversations I have to have with myself, to make myself feel better, when I rest on my own self-esteem. No wonder I get exhausted... It is really tiring to have your security threatened... Much easier just to stay at home, read a book and pretend that I am as good as I believe I am.
God, of course, knows all this. It is why he calls us to be in community. Satan loves nothing more than for us to be on our own... To idolize about the fantasy of self-sufficiency. I might b the worst at that. I once took a personality test where I scored in such an extreme direction for independence that the person proctering the test told me "please don't ever try to go work at GE or you might kill someone." For a long time, I took perverse pride in this. I loved thinking I was "different" or "special." Now I realize, with great sadness, that that personality test really just revealed how corrupt and prideful my heart was. So convicted on every level about my righteousness, I didn't need community. When, of course, what I needed most of all was to come into community, confess the ways in which I was deceiving myself and fall on my knees to receive His grace. Afterall, there is nothing more joyous than the purity of His perfect love and sharing that universal, unearned, good news with everyone.
So tonight I am heading out again, hoping that God finds someway to remind me of my need for him. Perhaps I will meet someone with really nice hair... Losing mine at a rapid clip, it is getting harder and harder to hold myself up as the image of self-sufficient manhood I idolize when i meet another man with beautiful wavy locks. I am so grateful our Lord doesnt grade on a curve.
CPP
I am this way too...maybe practice in community, and prayer on the subject, can help us dial back some? Another factor is not all of us are skilled conversationalists!
ReplyDeleteI find that I'm sufficiently drawn to the one or two familiar faces in the crowded room, that even when presented with massive opportunity, I continue to avoid the effort of engaging someone new - it's such a hurdle - either a challenge to step into a conversation circle already underway - or chat up the guy that isn't talking to anyone - an obvious sign of someone in need of a new friend. I'm sure those are the people that Jesus walked up to when he found himself in a crowd.
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