An Introvert Confronts Weakness

Here's something you probably know about me: I am an introvert. 

(If you don't know this about me, hi, have we met?  Because I'm guessing we haven't).

I am not an introvert who feels the need to pretend to be an extrovert.  I am quite at peace with my introverted-ness, thankyouverymuch.  I am proud of the strengths of my personality.

But oh, the weaknesses.

Contrary to popular extroverted belief, introverts don't hate people.  But they are more highly reactive to their environments. They process events differently.  Some say that introverts process stimuli more deeply ("a rich inner life," they say), and that accounts for the greater energy expense.  I am not so smug as to make that assertion.

Extroverts tend to recharge through social interaction.  Introverts tend to recharge through alone time.  So while I may enjoy myself at a party as much as the next person, it depletes my emotional resources.  I don't mind so much.  I'm pretty careful not to overbook myself, because it's best for all concerned - trust me (better yet, ask my husband).

But God's been convicting me of something lately, related to my introvertedness.

You know those spiritual gift tests?  My spiritual gifts correlate pretty strongly with my personality.  And down there at the bottom, every time, is this little thing called hospitality.

Yeah, hospitality.  I'm pretty bad at it.  You know that moment in most churches where they tell you to greet those around you?  HATE. IT.  It makes me squirm.  It makes me stutter.  It makes my heart pound and palms sweat like most people fear heights or snakes.  Because in my head, I hear: "Hey everyone!  Go shake the hand of that stranger!  You won't have enough time to say anything important, just chit-chat for a while! Oh, and if you don't do it, you're gonna look like a Scrooge."

Ugh. Ick. Ack. Blech. *shudder*

(On a side note, our home church doesn't do that.  I wonder how much of my initial attraction when we were church-hunting was subconsciously influenced by the lack of squirmy awkwardness of an obliged greeting?)

But here's the thing: hospitality is still a command.  For introverted, non-small-talking, socially awkward me.

(Disclaimer: in the below paragraphs, I'm not blaming my mom at all.  She's practicing her gifts, and that's awesome.)

My mom is a ten-talent hospitality personality.  Open up her home?  Sure, no problem.  With decaf, half-caf, hot cocoa, and ten different kinds of tea.  Growing up, we had baby showers, wedding showers, craft parties, cast parties, swimming parties, holiday meals...even two wedding receptions in our backyard.  You name it, my mom hosted it. 

I am the man in the parable with one talent.  BUT.  It's my responsibility to refuse to bury it.  I have to use it, and trust that even though my "interest rate" makes drying paint look like it's on fast-forward, God will use it.

I've been trying to do better about having people over.  About greeting the lady in the church lobby.  About initiating relationships.  About maintaining them.  And guys, it's so hard.

My lessons started small: letting go of the perfectionism that wants my one-talent hospitality to somehow look and feel like my mom's ten-talent.  Wanting to invite everyone over.  Wanting to let people stay as late as they want.  Wanting to be able to revive a lagging conversation with a joke or sheer energy.

But I am not called to this.  I am an introvert.  I *have* to keep a light schedule,or else I begin to snap at my family.  I *have* to at some point go to bed, because I am not a nice person otherwise.   I *have* to share what we have, and not try to overstretch myself with exotic menus. I *have* to focus my relationship-building on small groups of people because otherwise I get overwhelmed and my family suffers.

 I have to allow for my weaknesses, even as I confront them.  To ignore my weaknesses would be to take an alcoholic to an open bar and expect him to stay sober.

So....moral of the story is: I'm an introvert.  But that does not excuse me from obedience to commands.  I have to trust that should God require me to serve Him through a late-night, exotic dinner party, then He will provide the grace and resources necessary to do so.

But in the meantime, I need to develop my one talent in accordance with my personality and ability.  I may not be called to host weekly get-togethers, but I am called, always, to love those around me with an open heart. 

What's your one talent?

Too Much Good Stuff

Lately I keep reading articles online, and thinking "Man, this is so good.  I have to remember this one."  And I have to share them too.  So here's a list of my favorites this month - seriously, give some of them a read.

1)  I once did a post on why the approach to purity taken with teen girls today just doesn't work.  This is probably the best article I've seen that sums it up: telling girls to be pure for their future husbands does them a serious disservice.

  "Christ is the source of everything we need and the giver of all good gifts … but in telling people about Him, it’s possible we’ve sold them on a solution for life’s problems and not life itself."

2)  From my political theory professor at PHC, the rhetoric of a culture "war" has done more harm than good.  So how do we change the culture?

"One solution looks primarily to the political arena for redress; the other, like the Good Samaritan, takes the wounded traveler and cares for him. Do you want to change the culture? Practice hospitality."


3)  Homeschoolers in particular really tout the family as their central values.  But should it be the center?  As a brand-new SAHM, this article is really challenging.   h/t my pastor for sharing it.

"But I found myself, while he described the feelings of idolatry---the sense that this is my whole life, this is what I live for, this is what I dream of, this is what completes me and gives me significance---thinking that, for me, this is family."

4)  Also shared by my pastor, this article addresses the issue of parenting with grace that I referenced earlier on my blog.

I begin by saying, "Remember how Jesus said we were to treat one another?"

"I'm not Jesus!" my oldest responds immediately, his face scrunched up as his feet stomp the tile floor.

5)  As I rediscover the love of reading, this article is a real challenge.  Both homeschoolers who overshelter their children and those who are eager to read all different viewpoints can take heed of this one.  We are not to isolate ourselves culturally...but we also aren't to confuse "engaging" the culture with unqualified enjoyment of the culture.

"Second, we've gone off the rails in confusing cultural engagement with consumerism and entertainment"

6)  Finally, remember my friend who I quoted on gourmet meals?  She posted this link, which is hands-down my favorite post EVER.  I swear they just changed the name of one of my facebook friends, who practically makes these posts verbatim.

"People continue to check Molly’s posts out of morbid curiosity.
“It’s an exercise in ‘How is my life inferior today?’” says one. “If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.”

Are We All Braggarts?

I love, love this article:  http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10000872396390444184704577587091630924000.html


We were talking about this at small group one night - the way the internet allows us to see the best of people, and never their failures.  The way we carefully manage our online presence to be the best we can be.

The way we effectively shut people out of our lives by not allowing a single failure to slip through the cracks.

I've most seen this in the area of food.  One friend posted a laugh-out-loud status a couple weeks ago: "If a gourmet meal was made and no one took a picture on Instragram, did it happen?"  The word "homemade" has become a sneaky way of saying, "Look at me, I'm a domestic goddess."  Congratulations, you boiled some noodles, added some cheese, and baked them.  Way to go making your homemade gourmet mac n' cheese, you domestic goddess, you.

I think social media has almost become a way for us to stand on a table in the middle of the cafeteria and scream, "Hey everyone, look at me!"  Come look at my blog.  Look at my baby.  Look at my mad sewing skills.  Look at my frugality.  Look at how far I can run.  Look at what my amazing husband did for me (because I deserve it, of course!).

So.  How do you break the cycle?  Is it by posting your mistakes, failures, etc.?  Or by not posting at all?  Is there a difference between "sharing your life" and bragging?  Where's the line?  Is it just me, or are the people who openly acknowledge, "Hey, do you mind if I brag a bit?" the least annoying of all?

Gratitude and Community

I've been writing thank you notes again.

I can tell because I'm in the euphoric haze of bliss in which I bear good will toward all mankind.  Guy who cut me off in traffic, rejoice.  I cannot hold a grudge.

It wasn't always that way.  Growing up, thank you notes were the typical chore.  My mom had a rule that we had to write as many sentences as our age.  Therefore, when writing a thank you note for your eighth birthday, you had to come up with eight sentences to say how much you liked the plastic horse or the Lisa Frank rainbow folder.  


Which I did like them.  But not eight awkward sentences worth.

In college, I did a lot of thinking about the community.  About what it means to be a community.  About how our transient culture makes community difficult to sustain.  About the individual's need for community, and how the lack of one can result in a detached individual grasping for roots, a context greater than himself.

And in the midst of this, I was planning a wedding.  And the gifts poured in, and as I wrote thank you notes, I had an epiphany.

I wrote a post once on the meaning of weddings.  I always half-jokingly said that I would elope, because I'm not really a party person.  But then I realized what a wedding really is: an outpouring of support from the community, a group of witnesses welcoming a new family to be the cornerstone of society.

Gifts are a symbol of that love.  A wedding gift is a way of saying, "Yes, we are here to help you form your family.  We welcome you into our community, and we will support you and be your friend and give you a context in which to raise your children."

The gift isn't the toaster.  It is the promise that, just as the toaster meets a physical need, the community is there to meet the emotional and spiritual needs.  And I found that I could write thank you notes "with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and, when it opens, finds himself at home."

Multiply that relief a hundred times when you have a child.  We have been so, so blessed and at times surprised at the love and support and excitement from our communities.  Just...wow.

My mother's heart is thrilled, because to me, all these gifts are a reminder that my little boy will never be lonely in this world.  No matter where we are, there is always a community of people who love him and who cherish him.  The constant sound of the UPS truck was like a refrain saying, "Welcome, little guy.  We're here to love you and support you and help your parents when they need it.  Because we want to see you grow and thrive into a happy little boy, and a strong young man, and raise a family of your own someday.  And even though we've never met you, we accept you."

Talk about comforting to a young mother.  Because there will be days when I need help, advice, or just support.  I will need reminders that my baby boy is precious even when he won't nap, that the little menace refusing to do his schoolwork has a soul, that even if dinner that night is lacking in nourishment, nothing can compare to the time I take to nourish his spirit.

And my community is there to do that for me.  For us.

And what if something were to happen to either Josh or me (or both)?  I know that as a single mother, I would never be in need of protection or support.  As a single father, Josh would never need to fear that Kekoa wasn't being nurtured because a host of loving female hearts would accept him as their own.  And should the unthinkable happen and neither of us survived, I know my little boy would find the doors to a thousand homes ready to receive him.

So I write thank you notes, which are entirely inadequate to capture the appropriate thanks, and my heart is filled with confidence and joy.  And when a wedding invitation comes, I go shopping.  Because being part of a community means not only being accepted, but extending that acceptance to others.

All Members of One Body...

We had our meeting with our elders last night for membership. At least, we thought it was going to be elders, with a pastor.  But when they knocked on the door, it was both our pastors and one of our elders.

We small-talked for a while ("Yep, looks like a newlywed apartment...man, when we were newlyweds I bought this dresser..."), ate cookies, and settled down into our seats.  And then the questions started.

"Tell us your testimony"

"Describe to me the work and person of Jesus."

"Do you have a favorite Scripture passage?"

"How do you envision yourself using your spiritual gifts for the Body of Christ?"

And then, the Book of Church Order came out and they asked us those five little questions that determined whether we would join the local church.

It was a precious time to me.  I had trouble finding a church in college.  I didn't have a car, so I hopped in whatever car was available, or a church van sent to pick up stranded students.  More often than not, I ended up arriving in a herd of students and then rushing to greet people so I wouldn't miss the van.  I attended three different churches while I was there, for at least 4 months at each one.  And in all those churches, there was only one at which I ever met the pastor (twice actually...but he didn't remember my name).  No one ever asked my testimony.  For all they knew, I didn't even believe in God.

Our first week at our current church was a surprise.  Not only did both pastors greet us (we didn't even realize they were the pastors at the time!), but they both immediately offered to gather people to help us move in.  Within a month, two different elders had invited us over to lunch to get to know us.  And now, both of our pastors know our stories, know our spiritual gifts, know our struggles, know our talents, know our jobs, know our needs.   We aren't members because they signed the paperwork. We are members because we are known.  To make a rough analogy, you can pay your dues to be in a club - but to really belong as a member, you've got to be a part of the club.

We belong here..

And then today at lunch we mentioned to a couple co-workers that we had a meeting for membership.  I was shocked at how quickly membership was bashed as "bureaucratic" and "unnecessary."

No -- a bureaucracy is paperwork and needless red tape.  It is not human.  And anyone who was in our home last night knows that the three men gently asking us questions and getting to know us are not a bureaucracy.  They have simply made the process of joining a church one in which you can't sit by the sidelines, isolated and alone.

There is a difference between order and bureaucracy.  I am comforted more and more as I watch our church in action.  They are prepared to handle challenges.  They are prepared to stand up against sin.  They've done it, and the church has not fallen apart or crumbled in shock.  Even more, they've been able to comfort each other because they know each other.


I am a member of the universal Body of Christ.  What does that mean?  That we share beliefs, that we have a common heritage.  But that means nothing if I am not accountable.

I am a member of the local Body of Christ.  I am accountable to them, I have submitted to them, and I am responsible to contribute to them. We share beliefs.  We have a common heritage.  But even better - there is a system set in place that helps us remember that.

Let all things be done decently and in order.

Sense of Belonging

It may sound funny, but after four years of being here, I finally am starting to feel like we belong to the community.  Not just the college community, but the community of our neighbors.  I am finally starting to feel like we're contributors.

On Friday, we stopped to grab a bite after dinner after work and then went to a concert.  And I saw not one, but two, of my AWANA girls throughout the course of the evening.  Today on the way to church, some friends pulled up next to our car and waved.  A visiting choir to our church brought some old friends we hadn't seen in a while. A college buddy of Josh's stopped us as we were leaving Costco.

I grew up in the"dog-and-pony" show, as my mom liked to call it.  No matter where we went, there was someone who knew my mom who would report any negative behavior - and believe me, she heard about it!  Skirts that were an inch too short, a thoughtless remark, an emotional outburst in public...busted. Somehow or another, word got back to Mom. Belonging to the community somehow didn't feel like such a privilege.  :P

But now, having been transplanted, it is nice to have a place. It is nice to know the people I am shopping with, eating with, working with.  It is nice to have that "small-town" feel, where you are not just another stranger.

And most of all, it is good to know that we belong here.  It could be tempting to view this point in our lives as a transition period, a time when we're just waiting for Josh to finish grad school.  It could be tempting to breeze along with superficial relationships and limited involvement in the lives of others.

But life is never transitional. Life is always the fullest right where you're at.  The fact that life is always changing indicates that it never is - we must only learn how to create normalcy out of changing situations.  A lot can change in a few months.

But our need for fellowship, community,and belonging never will.

Heaven on Earth

Josh and I are going through Philippians together and last night covered Philippians 2.  Philippians is a generally good book, but what stood out to me last night was verse 15:

"that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world."


The reference to lights of the world reminded me not only of the oft-quoted verse in Matthew 5, but also of Daniel 12:3:

"And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever."


Daniel is talking about the end of time, a prophecy of the resurrection of believers into the eternal presence of God. In His presence, those saints will reflect the radiance of His glory.  Paul, on the other hand, is talking about the here and now.  In the midst of corruption and perversity, those saints who are blameless and innocent shine as lights.

A taste of heaven on earth?  I think so.  The refreshment of a saint living purely despite the surroundings can only be explained by the eternality dwelling within them.  The light of the world is not simply a "testimony" to unbelievers.  It is a glimpse of the transcendent, a taste of the divine. It is the immortal, God-fulfilled soul peeking out behind a mortal mask.

We often think of being the light of the world as being a draw to unbelievers, something that pulls them in.  We fail to recognize that just as often, to the degenerate human untouched by the Holy Spirit, the reflection of God's glory is repulsive.  But like Ezekiel, we must continue shining in the midst of a corrupt and perverse generation, not based on the results or the number of souls we can draw in, but because in so doing we will be offering the sacrifice of our faith to the Eternal God.

Back to the Future

In the era of relevance, "Christian hipsters," and fun churches, tradition seems pretty much lost in the woodwork.  Perhaps that's why a Presbyterian church appeals to me -- the structure and liturgies of Catholic and Anglican churches speak to my heart as the preservation of an ancient tradition.  A tradition ordained and inspired by God, and enriched by the insights and spiritual walks of millions of Christians over the ages.  I get lost in the prayers and contemplations of millions of souls, not dead, but worshiping alongside me.  Paul (I believe) said it well in Hebrews:

But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect.

This was a truth particularly close to my heart in Europe.  Worshiping in grand old cathedrals was richer for the knowledge that my soul was not alone in my worship.  Even now, my praise mingles with the praise of the millions who have gone before, and still live on in the presence of my God and my King.  "Blessed are they who dwell in Your house, for they will still be praising You!"  Though I may seem to be alone spiritually in dead American Christianity, my soul never lacks in companionship at the throne of God.

But back to the prompt of this post.  While reading in Jeremiah, I came across this gem of a verse:

Stand by the roads, and look,

and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way is; and walk in it,

and find rest for your souls.

The ancient paths.  Even the phrase does good for my soul.  The church has no need to be "relevant" -- how much more relevant can Christ get?  But the ancient paths?  Oh, the joy of knowing that I walk after and with the souls of those who have loved and trusted God!  They have been young, and now are old, and yet God has not forsaken them.

My soul can rest in God's faithfulness as I walk in the ancient paths.  I can benefit from their struggles, recorded and passed down through writing.  I can revel in His faithfulness to them in the past, which demands my present trust.  And I can rejoice that He will use my experience too to benefit believers in the future.

The universal church is not just a concept.  It is a reality that should be meditated on and savored.  For on the ancient paths, time is eclipsed and the worship of God is the meeting place at which one generation can praise His works to another.

Hallelujah!

Hospitality in the Church

The dreaded church search.  Yep, I did it again.  After attending three different churches during my three years at PHC, the church we were at decided that due to overflow in the building, they would cut each of the services down to one hour.  The result: 20 minutes worship, 5-10 minutes of announcements/tithe, and a 20-30 minute sermon.  Followed by another service 15 minutes later, resulting in a sanctuary and lobby so packed that fellowship was impossible because conversations couldn't be heard.  All other elements of church were moved to Sunday night service - meaning that if we wanted toparticipate in communion or get involved in a small group, we would have to forgo our service in AWANA.  And the sermons, much shorter than they used to be, lost their depth.  Milk, and not meat.  Josh and I made the decision to move on for the sake of our spiritual growth as we enter a new phase of life.

And here we are, at a Presbyterian church (neither of us have ever attended a Presbyterian church) that meets in a middle school.  The pastor spoke 3 out of the first 6 times we were there. It's small,the elders take turns preaching when the pastor is out, and the music is not fantastic (although they choose good songs).  The pastor gives excellent, deep, well-researched and supported sermons.  But then, we didn't get to hear him the first week!

What made us stay after the first week to give it a second chance is that the Body of Christ is in effect there in a way I have never witnessed in a church, particularly in the area of hospitality.

We have been attended there for almost two months.  Our first week there, we were approached by five different people who, after they found out we were moving, asked if we needed help moving.  We walked out with the business cards of both the youth pastor and the pastor with numbers to call when we moved.  And they were serious. Since we had no furniture, we didn't take them up on it (two carloads of boxes isn't exactly worth the time).  But in the time since, we've witnessed the system with which the entire church shows up to help move someone in.

We have been invited over for a meal three times.  Once, a homeschool family invited both us and another new couple over for lunch so we got to know not only a member family, but another set of newlyweds new to the church.  Yay for meeting people in the same walk of life!  The dad and the kids prepared the house and the meal for us, as mom was out of the town the day before.  We found that to be a sweet act of service.

Then just last night, a woman dropped by our apartment with a plate of warm, freshly-baked sticky buns.  "I took my daughter to college this week, so I had the house to myself and thought I'd do some baking to share with y'all.  Welcome to church!" she said.

I've attended generous churches, churches with good teaching, small churches, large churches, churches where the pastors sincerely love the Lord.  I have never attended a church so hospitable.  Maybe it's because we're not just college students anymore - college students tend to be overlooked and lumped in with the rest of the college-aged kids.  But I doubt it.  This church teaches and lives the concept of hospitality as a command.

And you know what?  It's contagious.  Ever since I was little, I didn't like having people over because I was too shy to enjoy conversation.  It is SO easy in a tiny apartment with worn out carpet, a small food budget, and only four chairs to make excuses for not having people over.  But I'm learning through this church that the quality of the cooking and the beauty of the home are not substitutes for the ministry that goes on when the church is actively building relationships on a personal level.  So we're inviting some students over for games and dessert on Saturday.  :)

May I remember this lesson forever - hospitality signifies the establishment of relationships and draws people into the Body of Christ.

Weddings and Community

Why are wedding days such a big deal? I often ponder the question. There are a lot of ceremonies, but none of them as big as a wedding.

But then, what does a wedding symbolize? The creation of a family. And what is a family? The cornerstone of society, the basis for community, the context of the individual. Without the family, society ceases to exist and disappears into the ominous shadow of Government.

Marriage may seem like a private agreement between two individuals, or for a Christian, between two individuals and God. But it is more than that -- it is an agreement between the couple and the community. The couple is promising to perpetuate society and to take part in the community. Community is promising to provide a setting in which the couple can raise the family.

Then as Louis de Bonald said, the marriage covenant is between not only the man and the woman, but also between the unborn child(ren). The family exists for the child; the child exists because of the family.

Weddings, as much as they have been overblown and exaggerated, are a big deal because they are a chance for the community to share in the marriage. They are a chance for the couple to participate in the community. It is a seal between man and wife and society, for better or for worse.