Notes from the Wayside: September 2015

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.

Who Am I?

O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, You know it completely.

Psalm 139:1-4 (NRSV)

I am the son and the heir

Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar

I am the son and heir

Of nothing in particular

From "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths

Ten years ago, at the beginning of my junior year in college, I went out for ice cream one evening, and my life was changed forever.

Earlier that day, I learned that the Wesley Fellowship, the United Methodist group at my university, would be serving ice cream outside the student center. I grew up in a small Methodist church with an aging congregation, but the predominant spiritual influence in my life up to that point was the fundamentalist Christian school I attended for eleven years. The school was so strict I didn't think I could be a real Christian and actually enjoy my life. I graduated from high school knowing that I needed to be a Christian (or else), but I still wasn't quite sure I actually wanted to be a Christian.

I went to the student center that night to learn more about the group. To be honest, my motives weren't purely spiritual: I was hoping I might find a girlfriend. Though I never found a girlfriend in the group, I found the Christian community I desperately needed. I found Christians my age who showed me that I could be serious about my faith and still enjoy life. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. The group meant so much to me that I stayed around for three years after I graduated, but, due to the nature of the group, the margin between my age and the ages of others kept widening. When I realized that the time had come for me to move on, I found a new community in a young-adult Bible study group at a large church downtown.

Every now and then, when I need to collect my thoughts, I return to my alma mater to take long walks around campus. I especially enjoy walks on evenings early in the summer, when daylight lingers after nine o'clock at night. On one evening in mid July, while walking around campus, I was feeling frustrated. Though I felt my life was back on the upswing after some emotionally turbulent years, I was dissatisfied about where I was in life: thirty-one years old, single, working at a job I don't hate but don't especially love. At one point, I thought I was heading into the ministry, but that journey had come to an end.

I never really knew where my life was going, but I was hoping I would be there by now. Perhaps that was my problem. In the words of the late Yogi Berra, "If you don't know where you're going, you might not get there."

My mood varies from day to day, so I decided that, no matter how I felt the next day, I would ask my friends to pray for me after Bible study. When we shared our "joys and concerns," I told them that I felt like I was stuck in a rut. That turned out to be a poor choice of words, because they thought I was trying to say I was bored. I later told them what I really meant, that I felt like my life was going nowhere. When I reached out to my friends, they reached back to me. We all went out for dinner afterward, and my friend Robbie talked with me the whole time. A few days later, my friend Erica invited me to join her in discussing a book she had been wanting to read. This opened the door for other conversations I really needed to have.

While Robbie and I talked that evening, he told me that, though we had known each other for a few years now, he really didn't know much about me. What he said stung, but I knew he was telling the truth.

During my time in the Wesley Fellowship, particularly in the latter years, I was typically the quietest, most awkward person in the room. For the last few years, I had been patting myself on the back because of how much I had come out of my shell since I transitioned over to my current Bible study group. I contribute a lot more to the conversation, and I even lead at times. In fact, I've been called the "Bible scholar" of the group. I thought I had come a long way, but that evening I realized I had not come as far as I had hoped.

Last month, when I wrote a perspective about the ways in which people use their religion as a place to hide, I realized that I too hide behind my religion, particularly my knowledge. I've had to put up with a lot of critical, judgmental, negative people over the years. I've learned to be very careful in regards to how much of myself I show others, because I have trouble trusting people. I want people to know that I'm spiritual and knowledgeable, but I don't want anyone to know anything about me that might cause them to judge me.

I came out of my shell,

but I was wearing a mask.

In the amazing book Daring Greatly, researcher Dr. Brené Brown shares what she calls her "vulnerability prayer."

Give me the courage to show up and let myself be seen.¹

I am starting to think that maybe I should pray this prayer every time I go out in public.

Recently I have also come to realize that I don't really know myself very well either.

I've grown up not really knowing what color my eyes are. When I was little, my grandmother told me that my eyes were gray. One day, when I was older, I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that my eyes couldn't be gray because they were too... well... brown. I eventually came to the conclusion that my eyes must be hazel, but I wasn't totally convinced of that either. Not long ago, while randomly browsing Wikipedia, I learned that my strange eye color is the result of a mutation called central heterochromia, which causes people to have multi-colored irises. This trait is commonly known as "cat eyes."² My irises are mostly gray but brown just around the pupil.

This is a mutation I happen to share with a number of celebrities including Angelina Jolie. I suspect you'll soon find me in the pages of People magazine.

This isn't the only discovery I've made about myself lately. For most of my life, I believed that I was an introvert. Actually, I think I was pegged as an introvert when I was a child because I was quiet. It made sense, so I believed it and played the part.

The key difference between an introvert and an extravert is that an extravert is energized by being with people while an introvert is energized by time alone.³ I actually don't particularly like to be alone. In fact, my idea of hell is being alone for eternity. Like an introvert, I enjoy having time to myself, but I typically spend my "alone time" in public places - coffee shops, bookstores, the mall, or restaurants with Wi-Fi. I like to be where other people are, even if I'm not directly interacting with them. I typically don't write when I'm at home by myself: I'm more likely to fall asleep while watching YouTube.

A couple of years ago, I went contra dancing rather frequently, and I usually made it a habit to dance with a different woman for every dance. Such a social activity should, in theory, exhaust an introvert emotionally. Since contra dancing can be a serious cardio workout, I would come home physically tired, but I would usually have trouble falling asleep. Assuming I was an introvert, I figured I was restless because I didn't get my recommended daily allowance of "me time." The truth is that I had not yet come down from my experience.

One other thing I've noticed about extraverts is the fact that they seemingly enjoy talking about themselves. If you've been reading this blog for a while then you know that I've written a lot about myself. In fact, I have a whole series of blog posts called "introspections" in which I share some of my life's story. When I'm around others, I typically suppress the urge to talk about myself because I fear that people will find it off-putting, but, if I actually talked about myself, then maybe people might actually get to know me better.

For most of my life I thought I was an introvert, but now I think there is a lot of evidence that I might actually be a shy extravert. Like my eye color, I don't fit into categories very well.

I recently heard it said that when we say that somebody knows us better than we know ourselves we're not really saying much. I've come to realize that if I want to connect with other people in any meaningful way then I need to allow myself to be seen and known by them. I'm also coming to realize the importance of knowing myself and of being honest with myself.

Notes: