An Easter for Introverts

For the first time in about two decades, we celebrated Easter with a dawn service. Just over a dozen people gathered together for a quiet, close-knit service. It involved discussion and singing and laughter. It warmed this introvert’s heart to be able to be with my family here. I knew everyone there, and not in some superficial way.

Home. It was like celebrating at home with people you’d welcome into your living space. It was warm and deep. This is where I belong.

Then we had our festival worship. Lots of loud music. Lots of visitors. Lots of joy. It was good to shout together, to praise together, to present the light of the Resurrection. To see old friends and new faces, to see a full church, it cheered me.

If you’re going to be loud and bombastic, Easter is a time to do it. To let the room ring for the surprise joy of a dead friend greeting mourning women by saying, “Hi,” to give voice to the New Creation by shouting hymns of praise, yes, this is good.

And then came a potluck! While the adults set up the food, the children gathered outside for an Easter egg hunt. And what a feast! The worship may have been good for the heart, but the food certainly wasn’t. Heart attack central! But it tasted so wonderful.

And about halfway through the time of the meal, I couldn’t be there anymore. I stepped away. I slipped into my office. Heart thumping, breath short—depression was hitting me. I’d been with people too much. Outside, I heard laughter. I heard people talking to one another. I heard them rejoicing together, the family of God.

Without me.

And you may see those two little words and hold the opinion that I am so, so sad. That my congregation should rush to my side and encourage me. That I am so, so alone.

But I’m not. As I heard them continue the meal without me, all I could think is: They don’t need me.

They don’t need me!

And how freeing that is. I can serve, but if I’m not here? God will raise up another. He will shepherd his flock. If I fall apart, my congregation will continue without me. When I am not enough, my God is enough to hold these people in the palm of his hand. I can’t hold them at all, after all. All I can do is point them to my Shepherd.

As I write this, it’s Tuesday after Easter. The depression has settled in, as I expected it would. This is normal after the craziness of Holy Week. But Sunday… Sunday was glorious. To see God’s people, to be with them, to step away… all of it was so, so good.

And I hope next Easter is just like it, stepping away and all.

Extroversionally Flabby

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A tree sundered in a recent windstorm. Cracked right down the middle, right next to the church building. Could cause a lot of damage if it fell the wrong direction. This morning, we had a workday of sorts, with my family and two other families coming together to take it down, chop it up, and take care of all the various pieces.

We observed distance rules, but we all chatted as we worked. Let me tell you, it was glorious. My kids worked hard. It’s good to see them serve like that! And to have adult conversation in person with someone besides my wife? Look, I love my wife so much, but it’s good to talk to other people, too! It wasn’t ministry-heavy at all; just a chance to chat with friends.

We labored for about four hours, hauling branches. It was hard work, but well worth it. I knew I’d be wiped out when I got home. And what a surprise: I was tired! After lunch and a shower, I took a nap.

I wasn’t expecting the social whiplash, though.

Let me just hide in this box for a bit…

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So he canceled on me. Again.

And the prospect I went to visit in the hospital was sleeping, so I didn’t get to see her.

And I’m sitting here, thinking about how I’m not able to visit people, and I’m…

…well, I’m happy, all right? Relieved wouldn’t be inaccurate. I’m content to sit in my office a little longer and do a little more work on the laptop, and now I suddenly have about twenty minutes that I don’t have to be actively involved with something before my next appointment shows up here. (And this person doesn’t appear to be canceling.)

This is me: The pastor that doesn’t want to people.

Savoring a Return to Ministry

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I’m not sick anymore!

Mostly, anyway. I still have a slight cough, but it’s very contained. And I’ve been on antibiotics for a week, so I really shouldn’t be able to give anyone anything, even if I cough on them.

In theory.

Anyway, after about two weeks of being cooped up at home and pretty much only doing office work, yesterday was a dream: We held outdoor worship and the church picnic.

The weather could not have been better. The shelter our members rented sat in a back corner of a park with a perfect mix of shade and sun. A basketball court, playground, and bathroom facilities were nearby. Picnic tables provided seating for everyone for worship. A delightful mix of visitors and members came.

I got to savor worship. We dug into the entire arc of the Bible under the theme, “Created. Broken. Restored.” We walked from Genesis to Revelation. We sang several favorite songs, like “In Christ Alone” and “Jerusalem the Golden.” And as I led worship, I got to point to Jesus as the one who restores all things. We can’t restore ourselves; only Jesus has done that.

And yes. I savored that. To be with my people again, to point to Jesus, to see them again.

An Ending

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Sunday we canceled worship. The roads were hazardous enough that we decided it was better if everyone stayed home. I recorded a miniservice and uploaded it to Youtube so the congregation could still worship as they saw fit. (Judging by the number of views, quite a few of the congregation took advantage of this way of worshiping!) I linked two songs and led a short devotion.

I spent the day with my family after that, leading them in worship, too. It was so good to hear my two older kids singing along to, “Chief of Sinners Though I Be” and “In Christ Alone.” I can see them growing in their faith and walk with Jesus.

Monday hit. I didn’t have to deal with anyone face-to-face. I had scheduled one possible appointment with a person I could just drop in and see, but chose not to pursue it.

Tuesday. And for some reason… I couldn’t handle being with people. I had a few appointments; nothing incredibly stressful. But when I thought about going out… I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I felt nauseous as I thought about meeting with them.

I canceled everything.

The Changing Face of Peopling

I loath being with people.

Please understand, I love my congregation. And I revel in leading worship. I savor sharing Jesus. And when I’m in small groups, I’d like to think I shine.

But people? So not my thing. Put me in a large group, and I wilt. Throw me into a party, and I waste away. I’m not made for large groups. I don’t people well.

All this means is that I’m an introvert.

Is there a heaven for introverts?

I never want to talk to another human again.

Last year at this time, I was glowing. I was broken. It was also before I knew more about how I worked.

Since then, I’ve gone through a lot of counseling, and I’ve learned some things about myself. For instance, after spending time with people, I need time by myself. This isn’t a matter of preference; spending time with people depletes my energy. If I continue being around others, my ability to process decreases at an incredible rate. I stop being able to function. I start saying things that I really ought not say.

If this keeps up for days, I fall into my depressed state. The only way to fix it is time alone. Not necessarily time not working, mind you. I can work on sermons, write Bible studies, and even do emails and IM’ing. But the more time I spend in a crowd, the more time I need away. (It’s strange that I can handle IM’ing, but texting tends to deplete my energy. No idea why that is.)

And this is just another way I’m broken.