A Little Extroversion

I’m profoundly introverted. That means that I process thoughts and ideas, almost to the extreme, internally, privately. My mind is always switched on, my brain seems to be in overdrive, and my head spins with ideas all of the time. But, I rarely speak about them.

Yes, yes, I know you hear me talk incessantly. In a way, I am paid to talk. But, talking out loud is not my nature. I have to work at it. Because, I’m an introvert.

That’s not to say that I don’t have conversations routinely. I do. The problem is, many of those conversations are in my head; I’m so dysfunctional that sometimes I can’t remember if I actually had a conversation out loud with someone or if I just had it in my mind—a conversation in which I spoke to and listened to myself (and just thought it was you). I’m a mess.

Extroverts, on the other hand, process thoughts and ideas externally. They find it helpful to articulate everything, as part of the journey to a conclusion. Introverts are prone to come to conclusions silently and then articulate them. Such is the wonder and diversity of human life. Both introverts and extroverts are imagined by God and complement each other.

Of course, no one is exclusively introvert or extrovert. We usually fall somewhere in between on a continuum. I just happen to fall toward—way toward—the introverted side.

Over the years, as I have become aware of my native introversion, I have also been attempting to balance it—to force myself to speak my thoughts, instead of just thinking them: to share, disclose, process, and listen more actively. I’ve made some progress; I still have some distance to go.

What might I disclose today? What might I share today that might be relevant and helpful? How should I engage the larger world around me? Hmmm. That’s my challenge, day-by-day. Maybe that’s your challenge, too.

Let’s see. Well, first, let me tell you that I’m still very excited about Madison Park and what God is doing there—and what He will do there. I honestly still get a rush every time I walk into the building. I am energized by the conversations I observe in the Commons, by the ministry that takes place everywhere under that roof. From the kids’ wing to the Crossroads Auditorium and all of the Main Street classrooms in between—well, it’s just awesome to see God (and His people!) at work.

I’m excited about what happens in the Main Auditorium, too. The kneeling response at the end of each Sunday service has been very moving. God is speaking—and people are listening. I’m actually excited about the empty seats, too. Because each one of those seats is appointed for someone we haven’t seen yet.

I recently visited a church (Buckhead Church in Atlanta) where the pastor has this sentence pinned to the wall: “If we want to reach people no one else has reached yet, we’ll have to do things no one else has done yet.” Yep, I’m excited on Sundays as I see people finding their seats—and noticing how much room there is to grow, too.

To be truthful, I do grow weary sometimes of listening to people find fault. The world is full of problems and things that need to be mended—no doubt about it. But, listening to people talk often about how unhappy they are with this or that, well, it just wears me out. That’s when I want to retreat into my introversion. I’m not speaking about church complaints here—I’m just talking about complaints, period. I’ve endured people complaining about restaurants and schools and spouses and friends and government and the weather and how they’ve been wronged and how “nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen” and, well, you get the idea.

I’m invited out of my introverted shell, though, by those who problem-solve and look at the world around them with promise... people who see God at work, always find something positive to say, put the best spin on things, eschew cynicism, and extend grace. When the table server at the restaurant fumbles, well, “we all make mistakes.” When wronged, “I’ve probably wounded somebody along the way, too.” When disappointed when expectations are not met, “God always works things together for the good.” When faced with the broken, “I know God can work this out.”

Now, that’s processing externally in a healthy way. And, that’s the way I want to process internally, too.

Help bring me out of my cave and give me a word of grace and hope. It’s always good to hear a good report. Always. I’ll try and extrovert in the same way for you, too. Be encouraged.

And, oh yes, I need to say it: I love my church family. Absolutely. Unconditionally. How could I not love you? You are the best. Whew. That felt good. I said it. Out loud. And, on paper.