People and dialogue described in the above picture are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The other day, when I was ostensibly researching a dreaded 20-page paper, I stumbled across an article which, in the moment, seemed much more interesting. I printed it out, read it with some fascination, and then dangled it, carrot-like, on my coffee table until the moment when I would finish my real assignment.
As you have probably guessed, that moment has arrived. It’s time to celebrate. In a Christian Century article titled “A Strange Silence,” writer Richard A. Busch makes the following observation:“Someone will introduce himself using the language of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator—as an introvert or extrovert, a feeler or thinker, a sensor or intuitive. Faces light up. Most people understand this shorthand interpretive language, and respond by declaring their own personality type.”
As I’ve mentioned earlier, the process of analyzing ourselves seems to hold a magnetic attraction. We like to identify ourselves as this type or that variety of human (or color or animal as the case may be). Judging by a lot of posts, this feeling may be especially pronounced among bloggers.
But regardless of whether bloggers are bigger narcissists than everyone else, I’ve always found the phenomenon of self-assessment revealing. That’s why the language we use to describe ourselves is so interesting.
The “AHA” moment in Busch’s article comes when you realize he is describing a group of Christians—pastors in fact—who tell their stories using vocabularies with a “professional, ecclesiastical, or psychological flavor.” The people whom we would most expect to have holistic, integrated spiritual lives are given to classifying themselves in secular terms.
Why is it that we stress outward doing dimensions over the inward being dimensions when we try to describe what we are like? Talking this way seems ironic; what if enterprising Arctic explorers were to define themselves according to the brands of their parkas? Suppose you met Admiral Perry on an iceberg and asked him what kind of a guy he was:
“Greetings, sir.”
“Hello, young man. Watch the icy crevice on your right.”
“Thanks. What are you doing out here, sir? What kind of a person braves sub-zero temperatures, risking his life to explore these glacial wastelands?”
“Well, I’m a North Face™ man myself.”
The picture would be somewhat incongruous. In a similar way, we tend to sidestep the heart of the identity question when we classify ourselves with buzzwords that make for easy pigeonholing. We hit superficial high points and miss the crucial truths.
Obviously, the language of our culture isn’t designed to express life’s spiritual realities. But an older, truer way of thinking about ourselves, and thereby talking about ourselves, is available. Check out the “self assessment” offered by Paul the theologian:
Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we're proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you. It started when God said, "Light up the darkness!" and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful. If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us (2 Corinthians 4:5-7, The Message paraphrase).
This would seem to be a step beyond "extroverted.”
Considering that we are on a spiritual journey toward Christ, what kind of humans are we? What are we really like? And, to bring the issue to a head, what language do you use to qualitatively describe yourself—your personality, your “type,” and most crucially, your experience of life with God?
Is your relationship with Christ in good standing, on probation, or nonexistent? Is the connection strong or weak? Have you heard his voice in recent days? Is there a vital element gone strangely missing?
If we really want to talk about what we are like, the language of personal theology needs to be revived. Where might we find words to help crack the mystery of our personalities? Hint: There are clues in a timeless book.
3 comments:
Is your relationship with Christ in good standing, on probation, or nonexistent? Is the connection strong or weak? Have you heard his voice in recent days? Is there a vital element gone strangely missing?
Those are the critical questions to ask - on a daily basis. Our journey is one of constant adjustment, making sure that we can clearly discern God's voice in our lives from the enemy's voice (which can sound strangely like God's).
That's why we need to spend time with Him daily, so we can clearly discern His voice.
Funny, but I have an incredible aversion to Myers-Briggs and all tests of that kind. I suppose I don't mind the questions, but I refuse to look at the answers. Who are you to tell me who I am? my mind demands of such tests or systems.
No doubt the following questions are good: Considering that we are on a spiritual journey toward Christ, what kind of humans are we? What are we really like? But yet, what about questions such as who and what is God, and how can I become more like him? Infinitely more important, and really our identity is only found to be right when it is based out of His.
I was first made to take the Myers-Briggs test at age 16, at Governor's School. They put the results ON OUR NAMETAGS that we were required to wear everywhere, right below our names. It was so bizarre. And you would automatically check the badge of each new person you met, to "see" what they were like, instead of gradually discovering and forming your own opinions. At least for a while...after a couple of weeks, we stopped looking, and people made up different acronyms that matched the initials on their badges.
What strikes me is this--my M-B test result now is the same as it was at age 16. Does this mean I have not grown as a person in all those years? I know that my relationship with Christ has changed, and seen peaks and valleys, ever evolving.
Post a Comment