“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you. By this all men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34,35 NASB
Just listened on-line to a pastor who’s guest preaching for us next Sunday. His subject was the nature of the church, the mandate to fellowship, to communion, to hospitality. All true for all of us. But each of us is given different talents, different personalities, different pathways and opportunities to express and exercise that mandate.
I’m thinking that preacher is going to be pretty disappointed in me.
The basic difference in extroverts and introverts is in
how they re-energize and refresh themselves. Extroverts draw energy from social
interaction, introverts from quality solitude. Especially, for the believer,
solitude with God.
Every one of us finite beings has a bucket of social
energy, different sizes, different shapes. Every bucket loses energy through
evaporation. An extrovert’s bucket may be wide or not so wide, but it’s deep
and strong and tight. Even if a major kick should make a dent and slosh some
energy out, the bucket seems to have an inner pump that only fails in times of
too much aloneness.
Introverts' buckets, on the other hand, are of a more
delicate material. While all are wide for maximum evaporation, they vary in
depth according to how severe the “disability”* is. All have pinholes, few or
many, that accelerate the energy loss.
Normal—and doable.
But if someone comes along and kicks a hole in that
fragile bucket, especially if the kick lands low, all the energy floods out and
is gone. It can take a long time to let Jesus repair and refill it.
I’m a strong introvert with a peculiar assignment: to
touch individuals with hands, heart, voice, pen. I like people, care about
them, enjoy them very much in small doses. But too many people at once, or just
one or two for too long, especially if they’re gathered in my only place of
solitude (no escape), or if they’re pressuring me to spend myself in ways they
see fit, then I’m flat out empty. The first thing to go (faster these days) is
my priceless creative energy. Too long without that and I’m sucked down a
whirlpool and spat out of my own bucket. Nothing left to give to anyone.
I’m a one-on-one person. When I hear stories of hunger or
abuse or persecution far or near it touches me—but it doesn’t touch me.
I can’t relate to faceless masses on an emotional level. But when it’s one
face, one heart, I go to a level so deep that many people would drown.
My spiritual gift is mercy. My personality type is INFJ.
My focus is my God—but when I’ve permitted people to drain me, when I’ve failed
to allow for my own legitimate needs, when I’ve had no time or space or energy
to think and process whatever life has handed me (or thrown at me), I’m not
good company even for Jesus.
Hospitality wide and general, or hospitality more keenly
focused? Which is more important?
Trick question. It’s neither.
Avi, toda.
Thanks. Seems like my vocabulary is pretty limited here, but since that’s one
of Your bestest, most favorite words, I’m thinking You’re OK with it. Thank You
for the way You’ve made me and gifted me with so much to share, too much for me
to carry. Thank You for carrying it for me, for doing the work I cannot do
(Psalm 138:8), and for pointing out people who need Your touch through me.
In Your Holy Name, Amen
* Myself, I consider this “disability” an amazing major
strength, an advantage that has drawn me into a deeper dependence on and closer
relationship with Jesus.
