From Misunderstood to Loved: Appreciating and serving the introverts in your small group

A woman once shared with me that it is really hard for her to speak up in the discussion time. It seemed to be distressing to her, as if she wished she could be different. I get it. And also, How many other people like her and like me are there in Women’s Bible Study? Probably more than we realize, since introverts make up about 30 percent of the population. And probably many of them struggle to come to Bible study some weeks not because they feel unwelcome, but because they also feel pressured. Too often in life they have felt like their quietness is a problem. As leaders, maybe we can do better than just trying to get them to talk more; maybe we can begin to understand them and celebrate their God-given design.

In the same week, someone shared various ways my quietness might be (has been?) misconstrued by some. That kind of feedback is helpful, and I appreciated hearing it. But it’s also hard to hear—a little heartbreaking because that is so opposite of how I’m feeling and a little paralyzing because an introvert’s greatest fear is being misunderstood. It’s also not really new information.

Introverts are more misunderstood than extroverts simply because we say less. People assign us motives or thoughts because there is an absence of data. We wish you’d just give us the benefit of the doubt and assume we are kind people thinking good thoughts about you, because we probably are. But we can’t really blame you, either. How can you know what we are thinking if we don’t tell you?

Actually, most of us wish we could be more like you. We are the minority. That means the world was designed by and for our extroverted friends, which makes us feel like we don’t fit in. Ever since elementary school, people have told us we should speak up more. They made fun of us for being so quiet. We struggled to make friends. The dreaded “participation grade” was our nemesis. And we’ve been embarrassed more times than we can count because when we finally got the courage to speak up, it didn’t come out right. In short, our introversion is often seen as a problem, and we feel that deeply.

There are so many reasons we are quiet. Traumas big and small that have left invisible scars. Fears—of being misunderstood, of looking foolish, of saying the wrong thing, of saying something and later wishing we had said it differently, of the endless overthinking and rehashing of the conversation we will inevitably do after we’ve been vulnerable. Honestly, it’s exhausting being us.

But I think the biggest reason we introverts don’t talk more in a large-group setting is because we are doing so much processing in our minds, and speaking will interrupt that process and cause internal distress. This is a two-fold reality. First, on a neurological level we are taking in more data than our extroverted friends. Multiple studies bear this out; just do a quick Google search. There’s just more data for us to sift through. The good news is that this can actually be a strength if we are allowed to do our silent work and then contribute in the way that fits us best. Second, we do better thinking internally than we do externally. If we start talking before a thought is formulated, we get garbled, and then our garbled words are embarrassing, and then we begin a long cycle of self-recrimination that will probably mainly take place in the middle of the night when we would rather be sleeping. Add to this a fear of public speaking, and it’s just a lot to overcome. But it can be overcome!

Here are a few tips that may help you understand and help the introverts in your small group:

1) Set the goal at the beginning of the year that everyone in the group stretch themselves a bit—for the extroverts to sometimes not talk as much as they want to and for the introverts to talk a bit more than they want to. This is an invitational way to acknowledge that every personality has strengths and weaknesses, and that we all need to encourage one another in our diverse giftings in order for the group to thrive.

2) Appreciate that introverts are thinking and processing more in their silence than they would be if they talk before they are ready. Your goal as a Bible study leader is for everyone in the group to reach greater levels of spiritual understanding and application. For that to happen, you need to let quiet people think without pressuring them to talk before they are ready.

3) Provide easy, non-threatening ways for introverts to speak up—a question everyone is answering that doesn’t go too deep, summarizing a topic they are familiar with, or reading something out loud. This will help them get comfortable with the group and remove some of the barriers that keep them from speaking up more.

4) Invite more comments after the extroverts have had their say, and let the silence sit for a bit. Remember that an extreme introvert’s heart is racing, and they may need to get pretty uncomfortable before they will speak up. Many of us speak only when we have something good to say and we are pretty sure no one else is going to say it. Give that process calm, patient waiting.

5) Take into account the rest of their lives and be compassionate. You don’t know—and they may not even know—what factors make them hesitant to speak up. Maybe they are really hurting and just need to be in a safe place where they are accepted for who they are. You also don’t know what else their day holds; they may be gearing up for something challenging and just need a break. Give them grace and a warm welcome, whether they talk or not.

6) Don’t assume anything about what someone is thinking or feeling—that they aren’t engaging or that they don’t want to be there or that they are judging.

7) Do be friendly and try to get to know them after the small group time, one-on-one. Ask them a non-threatening question about themselves. They probably need a friend!

8) Try to bridge the gap between the introverts and the extroverts in your group. You should lead the way in appreciating the quiet (and likely rare!) contributions of introverts and not belittling them for being who God made them to be. Do not shame them.

9) Pay attention and notice when an introvert may be about to speak, and ask if they were going to say something.

10) Let go of the belief that every person needs to speak in order for a session to have done its work. Active listening is a form of participation, and processing done in silence and not shared is no less valuable than verbal processing.

11) Know that a quiet introvert is not always an uncomfortable introvert. Therefore, you can be comfortable with their quietness too.

12) Some introverts just need to be given a role. Often introverts actually make excellent leaders or teachers or hostesses, because that puts them in a role where they can prepare ahead and use their gifts of taking in data to the advantage of the whole group.

It’s great to use techniques to help introverts feel comfortable in the group and encourage them to share. Sensitive extroverted leaders often do that really well. It’s even better to do all of that from a posture of valuing the unique contributions their quiet personality can bring to the group and giving them permission to be who they are even if their quietness makes you a little uncomfortable.

If I could choose to become an extrovert, I would be tempted. I would love to not ever again have someone say to me they are sure I have a lot going on in my brain and just wish I would share it. (I know that the thoughts I might be able to verbalize would not be as good as the thoughts I will come up with after some contemplation, and that’s why I don’t share them—they’re not ready yet and I’m not ready yet!) I would love to be more comfortable in social situations and be better at making friends. I wish I could relax and be the life of the party, one of the “fun” people. Sometimes I would just love to be able to calm my brain down in a roomful of people.

But then I remind myself that the world needs introverts. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what we would miss in a world with only extroverts. Furthermore, God has designed each of us for the good works he has for us, and those good works flow out of the personality he created us with. I cannot do the works God has for me if I am wasting time trying to be someone he didn’t create me to be. Gifting flows out of God-ordained personality.

Introverts are not problems to be solved, and the solution is not for them to talk more. My hope for myself and my fellow introverts is that we will deeply know God’s love and be able to live in the courage and freedom of being exactly who he created us to be and do exactly what he made us to do. And my hope for our extroverted friends is that they will celebrate with us when we do that—quietly.

Introverts are not problems to be solved, and the solution is not for them to talk more.

Silent Night

I suppose there is no greater frustration than being silenced. We want to be able to speak out and say what we think, what we feel, what we see. To be not able or not allowed to do so is paralyzing and demoralizing. But so often we are not allowed to give voice to our thoughts, or we are ignored when we do. Whether our silencing is due to age or lack of resources or illness or life circumstances, it is painful and disheartening. “Listen to me!” is the cry of our human hearts that are made in the image of the God who speaks.

This is a sorrow that Zechariah knew all too well, even before he lost his voice in a literal sense. I suspect that as the years went by he was silenced by those who had children when he did not: “you can’t understand, you don’t have kids.” As he became elderly he was no doubt silenced by those who had more energy: “I’ll handle that, you don’t need to trouble yourself.” And as year after year went by with his one prayer not answered, I’m sure he felt silenced by God.

“Why can’t Elizabeth and I have our one desire—a child? How hard would it be to just give us this one thing? We have served you so long and faithfully, why aren’t you listening? Don’t you care about us?”

Maybe that’s how you’re feeling this Christmas season. I think we all are to some degree. None of our lives are going quite how we would like, and it can seem as if God isn’t listening. Should we stop speaking when our words seem to have no effect?

The Old Testament prophet Zechariah tells us there is a place for holy silence, for expectant, hopeful reverence: “Be silent before the Lord, all humanity, for [the Lord] is springing into action from his holy dwelling” (2:13). This is a silence of action and trust, not of frustration and powerlessness. It is a silence that says, “I trust you, God, even though I can’t tell what you’re up to. I will let you speak when I cannot.” It is a silence of faith in God’s promises—promises like these other words from Zechariah:

·        “It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies” (4:6).

·        “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin” (4:10).

·        “All this may seem impossible to you not, a small remnant of God’s people. But is it impossible for me? Says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies” (8:6).

God is at work. His Spirit is among us. The beginnings may be small and our hopes may seem impossible, but all of these promises are yes and amen in the One the prophet Zechariah writes about, the Branch who is King and Priest forever, the same One to whom New Testament Zechariah’s son pointed—Jesus.

If you feel voiceless, silenced, or unheard this season, let Zechariah’s words give you hope: “Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace” (Luke 2:78-79). Let your silence be one of reverent hope. Our silent night is full of expectation and hope because Jesus has come, he will come again, and in the meantime, God is at work bringing light to our darkness and words to our wordless cries.

Showing Up

This spring has brought me to the end of myself in so many ways. My book launch was exciting and amazing, but also intimidating. It’s hard to put yourself out there for people to judge! Then there was the general busyness of the end of school, compounded by a high-school graduation and an eighth-grade promotion. So many milestones, each of which had to be properly celebrated and mourned. As it turned out, I was also battling a vitamin deficiency that was making me more tired and fragile than usual. No wonder I wasn’t feeling quite myself.

So when our pastor said as a side note to a sermon on John 12 that Lazarus was a silent witness to Jesus’ power just be being there, I thought, that’s it! That’s where I am right now. I am weak and weary, and these days it takes everything I have just to show up.

Fortunately, sometimes just showing up is enough.

There are times when we can be like Mary, who anointed Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair. Times when we are so filled with love for Jesus that we overflow in sacrifice and devotion. Times when we give sacrificially of our resources and our reputation to show our love. That is all noble and wonderful and satisfying, and it pleases God and draws people to him.

But sometimes we are more like Lazarus. All the passage says about him is that he was reclining with Jesus at the table, and yet the crowds came to see him. He drew a crowd just by sitting there; his presence was enough. They came not because of anything Lazarus had said or done, but because of what Jesus had done in Lazarus’s life. In fact, all we are told about Lazarus is that he was a friend of Jesus and he died after a brief illness. But that was enough. Jesus used him to reveal his resurrection power when he called him out of the tomb.

That’s what Jesus does for us, too. He calls us out of death and into life, out of darkness and into life, out of stagnation and into purpose and joy. And just like Lazarus, it isn’t about anything we did. We can’t call forth life in ourselves—we are dead in sin, and Jesus is the only one who can breathe life into our old bones.

If you belong to Jesus, you have a story to tell about his power. He has shown up in your life, and now you can honor him just by showing up for someone else. Maybe that means summoning your energy to go to church in the midst of chemo or depression or a devastating personal tragedy. Your presence there will encourage someone else--and you! Maybe that means sitting with someone who is suffering—comforting them with the comfort you have received from God. Maybe it means making a phone call or a batch of cookies or taking the kids to the park. Or maybe it means facing down the blank page and blinking cursor to write. 

I don’t know where you are right now, but if you’re feeling empty and at the end of yourself, know that you can still testify to Jesus’ power. Just by lacing up your shoes and showing up.

Isn’t that great news? If it takes all you have just to show up today, that’s enough. Jesus can use your silent presence to draw others to himself.

You want to know what made me finally write this blog post that’s been on my mind for a few weeks—what gave me the courage to show up? Someone I’ve never met who read my book wrote me a little note of encouragement. Isn’t that sweet? She showed up for me, and now I’m showing up for you. Whom will you show up for?

Margaret West Taylor

We lost a saint this week, a nearly 101-year-old woman who was variously known as Ken Taylor’s wife, Mrs. Taylor the mother of all those kids (there were 10 of them), mom, and, to more than 100 of us (28 grandchildren, their spouses, and 79 great-grandchildren), Grandma Taylor. There are a lot of things I could say about Margaret West Taylor and her very full life of faithfully following her ever-faithful Savior, but to me the thing that keeps coming to mind is all the ways grandma showed me what my job is—as a wife, mother, church member, and friend. Her quiet example of daily, grateful obedience to her Savior taught me more than any number of well-meaning books ever could.

My own mother modeled a lot of these same things, but somehow my path has more closely followed the well-worn trail of grandma’s life. For one thing, my husband has spent his career in the publishing company Ken and Margaret started. For another, though I have half as many kids as she did, somehow the large-family stories still seem to apply. We read the other night in an old Christmas letter about the vacation to Prince Edward Island on which they had to make daily stops at the hospital for rabies shots due to a skunk bite one of the children had contracted. Perhaps my tales of camping on PEI while fighting several cases of lice pale in comparison, but I feel I can relate. We also read about the time they found the vacation house locked so they sent a child in through a window. I’m pretty sure that exact thing happened to us.

I married into the Taylor family 20 years ago, so I guess that would make grandma about 80 when I met her. But through her vivid stories (she was one of the best story tellers I know!), I also knew her as a young woman, a mother, and a working woman. Here are some of the things I learned from her example.

1) What it means to honor your husband.

Ken Taylor, Margaret’s husband, had a lot of big, God-given dreams. Some of those dreams interfered with having a stable income. But Margaret joyfully supported her husband and shared in the ministry God had given him. When he left his stable job at Moody Publishers to start his own company, she became an expert in whatever needed to be done to keep his dream afloat. There were some lean years, and as the homemaker the bulk of finding creative ways to provide for the family fell to grandma. Nevertheless, she didn’t belittle or question grandpa’s plans. The result was a flourishing publishing company and many best-sellers, most notably the New Living Translation. Countless millions of people have been touched because of the humble, behind-the-scenes support of a loving wife.

2) How to prioritize but not pamper your children.

Margaret always said her children were her number one priority, and I think they knew that. But she also knew how to let kids be kids. I have often needed the advice she gave one of her daughters-in-law: “well, if you don’t want to see them climbing trees, don’t watch!” I’m not willing to go as far as she did and allow my children to investigate, boil, and reconstruct for a science project the carcass of a cat, but nevertheless I do try to relax and let my kids grow into themselves without too much interference.

I also learned from grandma that you can have a full life after kids, a vision I need as I start watching my children leave the nest. Grandma did a lot of adventuring in her long life, and much of it was after her 10 children had grown up. This gives me hope that the next stage of my life can also be fulfilling and fun.

3) How to balance thrift and generosity.

I know a lot of thrifty people, and I know some generous people, but finding someone who is both is a rare treasure. No one knew how to pinch pennies like Margaret did—I remember her soaking the stamps off of reply envelopes to use for her own correspondence. Most of her possessions came from thrift stores. You would never guess from Ken and Margaret’s lifestyle that they had quite a bit of money. But they did, and they were extremely generous with it, giving huge sums of money to the Lord’s work around the world even before they cared for their own needs. Their legacy lives on today through a charitable foundation they set up more than 45 years ago to give away all the proceeds of The Living Bible and the New Living Translation. 

4) The true meaning of hospitality. 

Perhaps most of all, Margaret’s example of hospitality inspires and challenges me. Even in her later years, when she could no longer stand in the kitchen and had to scoot a little stool around the kitchen while she cooked, grandma still hosted people in her home weekly. And she did it even in the lean years, when there was barely enough to feed her own family, let alone guests. I don’t think people in my generation understand hospitality—the generous treatment of strangers or guests—the way grandma did. She joyfully welcomed in all the people Ken invited home, even if the planned meal was very simple and perhaps not quite enough. In those cases it was “family hold back.” I can’t even count the number—and variety—of people who have told me, upon hearing that we now live in the old Taylor homestead, “I was in that house once. Margaret had me over for dinner . . . or a shower . . . or (most likely of all) a prayer group.” We need more of that type of kindness in the world, the kind that invites others in and allows them to see the mess of a busy life and enjoy a simple meal served with love.

The verse Margaret chose for her gravestone is

“For even the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve others.” (Mark 10:45)

What a fitting summary of her life, and may I and those of us who knew her and loved her continue to be inspired by her example of humble service to the glory of God.

Margaret West Taylor in the pink shirt, surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. For those who are into math, this group is projected to number 600 by the year 2040.

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Noses and Nostalgia

The air is heavy today with the scent of rain and fall. It’s funny how our sense of smell can instantly transport us to another time and place. One whiff of hedgerows and roses and I’m back in England. Salty sea air wafting on the breeze transports me to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Scotch pines swaying in the breeze take me to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. A particular cologne brings back all the feelings of young love because that’s what my husband wore when we were dating. The smell of cedar brings me back to days of playing in our walk-in cedar closet as a child. Gasoline and lawn clippings and burgers on the grill are all the best scents of summer. Maybe it’s no mistake that the words nostril and nostalgia are so similar.

The funny thing is, we can’t really describe a smell the way we can describe a sight or taste or sound or feeling. It’s something you have to experience for yourself, and it’s not always an experience we choose. Scientists tell us that the sense of smell is the most direct of all our senses. As we breathe in, tiny nerves transmit information to our brains. The effect of a smell is instantaneous, unedited, and visceral. And the information that enters our brains through our noses lodges in the long-term memory section of our brain. The effects of what we breathe in without even knowing it are long-lasting and inescapable. That is why smells have the power to bring up long-buried emotions of joy or sorrow, reduce our stress, and improve our cognitive performance.

Perhaps the power of scent was on Paul's mind when he wrote, “we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life” (2 Cor. 2:15-16). Christians have a unique smell about us. We carry with us and in us the life of the Spirit, and he creates in us rivers of living water, which carries the scent of life and growth and hope. The promise of true life.

The scent of a Christian is interpreted differently by different people, just as the smell of grass clippings makes one person think of happy summer days and another think of miserable allergies. Those who are being drawn to life in Christ know that it is the aroma of the life-giving love of God, and to them it is the smell of life. The presence of another believer transports them to the glorious home they will one day share as they live in God’s presence. It is a tangible reminder of the worldwide family that we became part of when we believed in Jesus.

Those who have turned their back on God associate Christians with judgment because a Christian’s life of love and obedience to God makes theme realize that their own life stinks of death and destruction. To them, Christians reek of death. Maybe they are not too far off, because after all we are carrying in our bodies the death of Christ, the death which brings life.

There is another aspect to the scent of a Christian—we are, in our very existence as well as in our acts of love and worship, a fragrant offering to God. The prayers we breathe out and the good deeds we do for others are like the sweet aroma of sacrificial incense wafting up to him (Leviticus 1:17). We are “a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God” (Philippians 4:18). In these ways we imitate Christ, who “has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma” (Ephesians 5:2). Regardless of how we are viewed by those around us, the scent of life and love that clings to us as believers is pleasing to God. It is a sign that we are a living sacrifice to him, that we have offered ourselves, body and soul, in worship to the Creator.

So the next time a scent takes you by surprise and transports you like a magic carpet to another time and place, think of the aroma of your life. Are you letting Christ flow through you so that you bring the scent of life to those around you? Are your attitudes and actions a sacrifice of praise that releases a sweet aroma pleasing to the Lord?