My church had connections with the organization leading the trip, but it was not directly involved—meaning I signed up knowing absolutely no one and flew down to join them alone. When all the participants arrived, we rehearsed a play that explained the gospel story to those who might not have heard it before. I loved the long hours of hard work and the people I met. But I quickly caught on that we had one main goal: numbers. It was all about getting someone to make a commitment, to pray and declare that they had “given their life to Jesus.” The more, the merrier. The higher the number of conversions, the greater the impact we had made. As the days went by, the total number rose higher. Forget that I felt icky asking this personal question of total strangers; I learned to identify that feeling as fear that wanted to keep me from being courageous in my faith.
This brings me to the airplane ride home and the conversation that still haunts me, though it happened almost thirty years ago. Our leaders challenged us before the trip ended to continue our newfound boldness as we readjusted to normal teenage life, and here I had my first chance to prove it. I sat beside a friendly lady in her thirties, who asked why I had been traveling. I explained, and she responded with genuine interest as I described our group. I knew, from my evangelism training, that this was my moment of opportunity, so I took a deep breath, ignored my inner feelings again, and asked the question: “Have you ever made a commitment to give your life to Jesus Christ?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
Cue awkward silence, two uncomfortable individuals, and at least one introvert wanting to burst into tears. I didn’t do Jesus any favors that day. Quite the opposite. And I have come to view that conversation differently now that so much time has passed. I see the pressure I felt to prove I was a “good” Christian, a bold (i.e. extroverted) disciple. I see a teen’s immaturity and willingness to believe someone else’s teaching, without trusting that I could hear from God on my own. And I see an introvert not accepting her nature as a gift, viewing it instead as a weakness to barrel through and plow over.
But most of all I regret the impact I might have had on the way this woman views the unconditional love of Christ. All of this flooded back when I read these words from Jen Hatmaker in her book Of Mess and Moxie: “People may hate us because of Jesus, but they should never hate Jesus because of us.”1 Ouch. I still pray for the woman I met that day. I pray that God’s love reached her in a more authentic way, and that her heart remained open in spite of my abrupt and inappropriate zeal.
WALKING THE ROAD OF FAITH AS AN INTROVERT
Evangelicalism has taken the Extrovert Ideal to its logical extreme . . . If you don’t love Jesus out loud, then it must not be real love. It’s not enough to forge your own spiritual connection to the divine; it must be displayed publicly.
SUSAN CAIN, QUIET
We sat having breakfast, the morning sun dancing in white streaks across the table. As I read to the kids from a devotional, one passage brought a personal experience to mind. So while they finished their cornflakes, I shared how our family discovered one of the homes we used to live in, a miraculous account you’ll read about in chapter 10. I watched their eyes grow wide as I described how we found that home, how we nearly lost that home, and how God came through—details that they were too young to fully understand at the time. Now I saw their faith deepen as they grasped how God had taken such good care of us.
You see, since that airplane flight decades ago, I’ve touched on a way to share my faith that comes more naturally to me as an introvert: stories. As moms, the stories we share most often tend to be those we tell our children, a powerful opportunity to invest into their hearts and minds before they leave our homes.
Stories change lives, and we all have them. Many of us can trace a pivotal life transformation back to the moment of reading one on the page, seeing one on the screen, or hearing one in someone’s life. And listening to someone’s story is usually non-threatening. If I share how Jesus has changed my life, how our faith led us to adoption, or how God has helped me overcome obstacles, it doesn’t put anyone on the spot. It’s just my story.
As introverts, faithfully living out our life story day by day gives us the chance to abide by the phrase often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi: “Preach the gospel always, and if necessary, use words.” Our stories also allow us to follow Peter’s advice to “worship Christ as Lord of your life. And if someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it. But do this in a gentle and respectful way. Keep your conscience clear” (1 Peter 3:15–16 NLT).
There’s a difference, I’ve found, between being pressured to share my faith and being led to share it. And it turns out that difference makes all the difference. When the Holy Spirit directs our steps, guilt and condemnation are not in the driver’s seat. We may behave more boldly than usual, but it still feels natural.
One Sunday, toward the end of a church service, I saw a woman across the sanctuary quietly sobbing. No one else appeared to notice, but my heart’s lens zoomed in on her alone. After the closing song, without a moment’s hesitation, something propelled me out of my seat, and I found myself heading toward this complete stranger. I asked if I could give her a hug, and she said yes. I reminded her of God’s love for her, told her I would keep her in my prayers. Another time, at a playgroup with my young children years ago, a mom from China whom I’d never met asked me to tell her about my Christian faith, genuinely wanting to hear how God had grown our multiethnic family.
Recent studies estimate that one-third to one-half of individuals are introverts. And according to the 2014 census, over 45 million mothers live in the United States. This means there are somewhere between 14 and 22 million introverted mothers in the US alone, many more millions worldwide. It’s more important than ever that we display our faith in a way that demonstrates Christianity’s relevance to them. As Adam S. McHugh, author of Introverts in the Church, points out,
Theological cornerstones of evangelical churches—like the accessibility of a personal, relational God, the authority and inspiration of Scripture, and the command to share the gospel and make new disciples—are paramount, indispensable values. Yet our methods for expressing those values are often tilted toward extroversion, and when we conflate our values with our methods we run the risk of alienating introverts.2
As introverts, we may connect with God more when we’re alone than when we’re surrounded by others. The command to “pray without ceasing” found in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 (KJV) may come more innately to us. And we may be more likely to agree with Anne’s preference to venture into a field and feel a prayer rather than spontaneously speak one aloud. We also might long for a quiet, reverent style of worship service because, in Adam McHugh’s words, “When introverts go to church, we crave sanctuary in every sense of the word, as we flee from the disorienting distractions of twenty-first-century life. We desire to escape from superficial relationships, trivial communications and the constant noise that pervade our world, and find rest in the probing depths of God’s love.”3
ON USING WORDS AS WORSHIP
It was late 2007. Trishna had joined our family just a few months earlier. I spent the hours from dawn to dusk, not to mention plenty of nighttime hours, keeping up with my four-, three-, and two-year-olds. One day Steve came to me with an idea: “Why don’t you write about how you’re making life work for our family and share it with other mothers?”
I stared at him for a while, then said, “Uh, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” a hefty dose of sarcasm in my tone. I went on to explain that maybe I could write about family life at some point, but I would need a lightning bolt from heaven in order to do so at that time in my life. I did agree to pray about it, though, and basically told God the same thing I told Steve, minus the sarcasm. And that was that. Or so I thought.
A few weeks later, Steve headed out of town for work. While I was holding down the fort alone, I got an email from an out-of-town friend—a mentor we looked up to, but wit
h whom we didn’t speak regularly, so she had no clue what Steve and I had discussed. She wrote, “I had a dream last night. It seemed like it may have some significance for you. Can I call to tell you about it?”
Now, can I tell you the number of times in my life someone has had a spiritually significant dream about me and wanted to call and tell me about it? Never before that day, and never again since. When Jill called, I started to tremble as she recounted her dream:
I saw you walking in a busy convention center. You held hands with the children, moving confidently through the crowd. Under your arm, you carried a light, a ceiling light fixture. Photos of you and the children, smiling and doing the activities of life together, covered the stained-glass dome. When people asked you about it you said, “I believe this is going to shine light in many homes.”
That’s how I became a writer. God’s lightning bolt gave me the strength I needed (though I still felt scared, mind you) to use my words as worship, to share my brokenness and hope with other moms who, like me, need daily encouragement. At first I wrote purely out of spiritual obedience, because God was my only reader for well over a year. And while this specific story may be unique to me, my gift for words isn’t. Since introverts process internally, preferring to think through what we’ll say before we say it, we tend to use words well. These words, connecting us to God and others, may come out in journal entries, emails, speeches, songs, books, conversations, blog posts, prayers, and yep, even text messages.
I thought again of words as worship when I read the poem “Thoughts on the Works of Providence,” written centuries ago in 1773:
Arise, my soul; on wings enraptured, rise,
To praise the Monarch of the earth and skies,
Whose goodness and beneficence appear,
As round its centre moves the rolling year;
Or when the morning glows with rosy charms,
Or the sun slumbers in the ocean’s arms;
Of light divine be a rich portion lent,
To guide my soul and favor my intent.4
I stumbled upon these words while doing research for this book. I was conscious of the fact that the four introverted women writers I highlight on these pages are all white, and it was important to me to include an introverted woman of color. But if opportunities were hard to come by for white female writers, imagine how difficult women of color found it to share their ideas with the world. Yet this poem’s creator, Phillis Wheatley (1753–1784), became the first published African-American female poet. Her story is one of trauma, which she somehow transmuted into creativity. Named after the ship she arrived on, Phillis came to America around age eight, a slave from West Africa. The prominent Wheatley family of Boston purchased her, later teaching her to read and write. When they observed her natural aptitude for words, they gave her an education that few females of any race received at the time, emancipating her after her first collection of poetry released to great renown.
It’s impossible to know Phillis’s personality with certainty. After all, wouldn’t enslaved extroverts have been forced to behave in a discreet, restrained manner? However, based on surviving stories about Phillis as well as the evidence of her penchant for quiet study, it’s likely she leaned toward the introverted side of the personality spectrum. One prominent scholar even called her work “contemplative and reflective rather than brilliant and shimmering,” the first two adjectives having “introversion” written all over them.5 Out of unimaginable suffering, she crafted dozens of artistic, intellectual poems that stunned readers. Phillis rarely mentions slavery in her work, but many of her poems center around death and likely reveal her pain and grief, funeral stanzas she wrote for community members who lost loved ones. Her words often point back to worship, even boldly reminding readers that those of any race would be welcome by God in heaven.6 She revolutionized and challenged society with her desk, her pen, and her mind—an introverted world changer, indeed. To learn more about her and share her words with your kids, check out my recommendations in the notes section at the end of this book.7
INTROVERTED MOMENTS IN THE BIBLE
Before we search for introverts in the Bible, it’s important to keep something in mind. Clearly, no one passed out personality tests back in the day, and we must be wary of viewing the past through modern-day lenses. At the same time, we know that everyone, no matter their disposition or culture, has both introverted and extroverted tendencies that display themselves at different times. So even if we can’t completely pinpoint introverts in the Bible, we can spot plenty of introverted moments as we seek to know and understand God better.
Let’s start with introverted moments in the life of another mother, Mary, from Luke chapter 1. In her acceptance of and faith to believe all the angel tells her, we witness a scene of wondrous reflection. We watch Mary process the idea of motherhood as it’s literally delivered from the hands of heaven. Later, we read that she “treasured all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:51). Haven’t you ever, like Mary, had a moment flood over you as a mom, one in which you have a glimpse of the eternal, reminding you to savor its gift? Whether it’s the moment we first hold our children, see their first smile, or hear them say “I love you,” our hearts resonate with the divine nature of motherhood in certain instances. I first heard “I love you” as a mom at the end of a long day of potty training, and I nearly missed it. I was close to losing my remaining patience after cleaning up several accidents throughout the day. Barely keeping it together, I encouraged Jonathan to try one last time before bed. I asked God for strength while I waited to see if we’d have any success. We did, but not in the way I expected. Suddenly Jonathan jumped off, threw his arms around me, and shouted, “I love you, Mommy!” Energy and joy ran through me at his spontaneous declaration, as well as the awareness that I would have ruined the whole moment if I had lost my temper.
Of course, we can’t talk about introverted moments in the Bible without bringing up Moses, who whines when God first calls him, “O Lord, I’m not very good with words. I never have been, and I’m not now, even though you have spoken to me. I get tongue-tied, and my words get tangled” (Exodus 4:10 NLT). Any introvert who has ever been put on the spot can sympathize. God promises to be with Moses, to equip him, and then sends his brother Aaron along for backup. How many times have we felt the same way as introverted mothers? Overwhelmed by what is asked of us, convinced we’re not up to the many tasks and to-dos vying for our attention? This is my usual state, unless I tune into God’s power. In our own strength all we seek to do is impossible, yet “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). Eventually, Moses comes into his own and fulfills his mission to free God’s people from slavery.
I also love the glimpse of introversion in the well-known story of Jesus’s visit to two sisters, Martha and Mary. While Mary spends her time learning from Jesus, Martha is distracted and frustrated by the logistics of the meal she’s preparing—and the fact that her sister isn’t helping (Luke 10:38–42). Here we see both the harried, hectic work that we as mothers connect with so deeply as well as the peace that transcends understanding in Mary’s choice to sit at the Savior’s feet and listen—to soak up the divine instead of choosing earthbound busyness. And Jesus honors her choice to reflect instead of rush, saying, “There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42 NLT). Let’s cling to this perspective when our own home fires require constant extinguishing, choosing to sit calmly with our Lord instead of frantically hurrying from task to task.
Perhaps the most beautiful introverted moments in the Bible are those we see in the life of Jesus. The son of God, he used both extroversion and introversion, blending them in perfect harmony. The needy and the curious continually sought him out, and just like us as mothers, he was often surrounded by people who wanted something from him. He knew how to serve, sacrifice, meet their needs, yet also how and when to retreat. He even had instances when he planned to spend time alone an
d then faced interruptions, a situation moms understand all too well. (See Matthew 14 and 26; Mark 1 and 6; Luke 6; and John 4 for more examples of introverted moments in Jesus’s life.)
Watching Jesus pay attention to his introverted side is such a gift. How can we suggest that time alone is wrong when he prioritized it in a healthy way? Jesus’s life on earth offers introverted mothers the best example of all: a pouring out of ourselves followed by a filling up so we can pour out again, yet never run dry. It’s the recharging cycle God’s own son used, therefore it’s not selfish or self-seeking. Whenever you read your Bible, search for more introverted moments. Let them serve as a reminder that God created each aspect of you by intentional design.
REFLECTIONS FOR INTROVERTED MOMS
10 Ways to Avoid Awkward Church Greeting Times
The familiarity and informality of some churches in the evangelical tradition, with their best intentions of devotion and hospitality, can actually exclude introverts. Times of greeting and sharing in a public context, especially with strangers or distant acquaintances, are unnatural and sometimes painfully uncomfortable.
ADAM S. MCHUGH, INTROVERTS IN THE CHURCH
If you ever find “turn and greet those around you with the love of the Lord” moments a tad unnerving, allow this list to come to your rescue! I may (or may not) have used well over sixty percent of these techniques myself, and can therefore testify to their effectiveness.
Introverted Mom Page 11