An Introvert in a Happy Church World
by Rich Hannon | 7 May 2024 |
I am a “card-carrying” introvert. But because I’m not a stereotype, I don’t check all the possible characteristic boxes. For example, although I’m a layman, I’ve preached many sermons in my adult life. I trained as a teacher and feel comfortable up front, speaking extemporaneously. Introverts aren’t necessarily shy.
However, our church services and surrounding culture aren’t very sensitive toward introverts. I’ve vaguely known this forever, but perhaps a decade ago I read an excellent book by Susan Cain, titled: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.
In a short section of the book (pp. 64-70), under the heading “Does God Love Introverts? An Evangelical’s Dilemma,” she describes a 2006 visit to Rick Warren’s mega-church, Saddleback, accompanied by a self-identified introvert and evangelical pastor named Adam McHugh. He later wrote a book titled: Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture.
As Cain and McHugh talked during their visit, he told her (p. 66) of his belief that the evangelical church has a presupposition of extroversion-as-orthodoxy:
“The evangelical culture ties together faithfulness with extreme extroversion. The emphasis is on community, on participating in more programs and events, on meeting more and more people. It’s a constant tension for many introverts that they’re not living that out. And in a religious world, there’s more at stake when you feel that tension. It doesn’t feel like ‘I’m not doing as well as I’d like.’ It feels like ‘God isn’t pleased with me.’”
I haven’t read McHugh’s book, but Cain’s short exposition of her Saddleback visit, detailing their skew toward extroversion, finally pulled together some of the disparate discomforts I’ve always had within my church experience.
Evangelicals widely, and Adventists specifically, substantively engage in “church” as if everyone were extroverted. The central and valuable idea of community seems too often to play out in ways that are stressors to introverts.
Contexts
Consider some reactions an introvert like me might have when attending a prototypical Adventist church service.
Greeters
In almost every church I’ve ever visited there are greeters, stationed by the entrances, whose job is to welcome those arriving. They typically offer a bulletin and sometimes have visitors sign the guest book. All fine, in service of being perceived as a welcoming church. But this process can sometimes produce discomfort for an introvert.
Here is an admittedly extreme example. There’s a church my wife and I have visited a few times that has a particularly effusive greeter usually on-duty. This lady hugs everyone who comes through the door. It has been a cringe-worthy experience for my wife.
The lady hasn’t (yet) trapped me, but my standard move when entering a lobby is to engage in broken-field walking, using available lobby people as blockers. I can usually zip through before being snared, and get to the sanctuary door goal-line. My wife, who’s also somewhat introverted, is less assertive in evading unwelcome attention. So, she’s been trapped by the hugger and, in consequence, has an aversion to visiting that church. I tell her she needs to traverse the lobby like me, but she unsurprisingly rolls her eyes at my over-the-top methodology.
I suspect the greeter I’m describing is operating as she would like to be treated, were the roles reversed, and might be surprised that not everyone would receive this heartfelt welcome with appreciation. But other more typical and restrained modalities of greeting still lean toward extroversion. The default mindset ties “friendly” and “demonstrative” together.
At another church we once visited, the greeter quite surreptitiously placed a tiny woven-cloth rose, with sticky back, on our lapels. It was evident to us that the church had decided to tag visitors to clue members in, so they might be more proactively welcoming. We pulled the tags off, as soon as we exited the lobby. We just wanted to go to church. The intention was sincere, but the mechanism was objectifying. Still, I think many extroverts would find nothing in this practice to dislike. All is good in service of friendliness.
The Preliminaries
Most North American Adventist services have preliminaries, which can include an official welcome, various announcements, etc. Many also have some form of a “greet your neighbor” task for worshipers to engage in. You’re invited (actually mandated) to “turn to your neighbor and say …” followed by some stock phrase. In some churches congregants are asked to stand and walk around, greeting others. So the sanctuary turns into the foyer for about 5 minutes, as people move about, engaging in sincere cacophony.
I suppose many extroverted visitors would feel welcomed by such gestures. But it is superficial, forced behavior, and way out of an introvert’s comfort zone. No matter. When the up-front leader tells you to demonstrate friendliness, it is within an extrovert’s paradigm. So, everybody gets in gear, anxiety notwithstanding.
After reading Susan Cain, I later looked on Amazon to get some basic info about the book authored by her fellow-observer, Adam McHugh. Reading through the reviews I found this comment, which strongly resonated:
“You want to know what the worst two minutes of my life are every week? It starts with that moment directly after we sing in church when the worship pastor asks the congregation to turn to someone next to you and say hi. Every single time, my eyes just want to roll.
“I’m not against meeting new people. I actually think people are pretty cool. I used to think that I was just being shy and needed to fight my innate shyness, but in reality, what I loathe is the lack of genuineness. The whole procedure is forced and fake. By the time I am done shaking my neighbor’s hand, I have already forgotten his name. Why? Because I don’t know him and there has been no attempt to know each other.”
Yes, it’s less about interacting with others and more about distaste for choreographed superficiality. But that aversion is part of an introvert’s psyche, too. I have had comparatively few “friends,” and many enjoyable “acquaintances,” over the years. That’s because of how I define friendship. It necessarily involves taking off the mask of pleasantries and being vulnerable with your friend, who willingly reciprocates. Then there is a safe context to talk about substance. This sort of intimacy doesn’t happen quickly and it does not scale. Even if highly compatible people crossed your path daily, no one has the bandwidth to form very many friendships of the sort I’m describing. Introverts welcome intimacy, but would often prefer solitude rather than engaging in the ubiquitous, casual interactions that we all experience.
Calls for Dedication
It’s near the end of a sermon, with the preacher reaching, then passing, the apogee of both exposition and emotion. Finally, right where typically there would be a closing prayer, the speaker instead calls upon everyone to physically respond by standing to affirm that they all align with the just-delivered message. Presumably it has deeply moved everyone and thus this act would voluntarily signify (re)dedication.
If you’ve ever experienced this coda to a sermon, you likely can recognize that the dominant dynamic here is group pressure to stand up—whether or not you actually feel any personal religio-emotional stirrings or not. I’ve usually felt such moves were blatantly manipulative, even though I also think that typically the speaker is not being disingenuous. Still, they can be oblivious to the group dynamics, thinking this kind of “call” legitimately intensifies the sermon’s impact and value.
Also, historically this kind of ending has been modeled upon previous generations of preachers, albeit less frequently employed these days. And, a bit insidiously, the speaker can believe there is a heightened sense of message-validation when calling for and receiving a physical response from listeners. This can feel good, as it seems the sermon has reached deep into the hearts of the congregation, even if it didn’t.
But peer pressure is at the core. Suppose you did not stand with virtually everyone else in the room? The nominal conclusion many around you would likely infer was that you were oddly opposed to the (usually conventional, sometimes clichéd) spiritual reason you were supposed to stand up for. Not that you instead objected to manipulation. There have been a few occasions in my church-going adventures, when I actually remained seated. I was just tired of the maneuver and chose to live with possibly being misunderstood. But the pressure to conform is real, central, and makes the entire action illegitimate—however sincere the preacher may be. And while this snippet of church experience isn’t just problematic to an introvert, when one is “forced” to participate in discomfiting ways, I think the introvert’s cringe level is somewhat deeper than for a prototypical extrovert.
Foot Washing
Adventism is rare, among denominations, in including foot washing as part of the communion service. And anyone who has significant experience in the church should recognize that historically attendance is noticeably lower on communion Sabbaths. It’s the foot washing, and I suggest that being uncomfortable with this portion of the service is highly correlated to introversion.
As an aside, these days some congregations have tried to mitigate this largely unspoken-of angst by providing an option of couples pairing to wash each other’s feet. Further, I think there is now less social stigma to simply remain in the sanctuary, typically listening to quiet meditative music. So, the “problem” has been reduced somewhat.
Just what is the issue? First and significantly, I don’t think people, who have an aversion to the exercise, really disagree with the symbolism. Nor do they have some sort of humility problem. But historically, after the official explanation from up front, people would file out of the sanctuary—men to one room, women to another—and “buddy up” with whoever randomly happened to reach the foot washing room door at the same moment as you did. Thus, you are highly unlikely to pair with someone you know well.
Yet, in performing this activity, there is ideally a sense of spiritual gravity, with—in my view—a needed interweaving of social intimacy with whoever is your partner. But in practice such familiarity is likely absent. Mainly due to the lack of prior relationship depth with this randomly drawn partner.
Such dissonance is easier to overcome, I suggest, for an extrovert. This isn’t a criticism; it’s a virtue. But I’m not wired that way, and I’m forced to fit within the blueprint. A psyche of introversion doesn’t just exist; it is legitimate. But this activity almost always necessitates artificial, forced, and thus pseudo-intimacy. The symbolism is important, and I have significant dissonance with my reluctance. I recognize there are many participants for whom my perspective here would be foreign, even baffling. It’s all good, to them.
But I’m suggesting, as are Susan Cain and Adam McHugh, that there is a sociological current of extroversion in the evangelical mindset, including Adventism. The current runs swift, silent, and deep. And one manifestation is in the degree of discomfort many introverts have with this communion component.
What do I want, anyway?
I write this essay with a bit of fear that it will be perceived by some as inappropriately critical, even whiny. I also recognize that many of the assertions I’m making haven’t been buttressed with lots of sociological research. So these views can be considered as hasty generalizations and consequently invalid. Instead, I’ve focused on my own experience, with the belief that other introverts will find resonance, and perhaps some may get a bit more clarity on why parts of church life could feel discordant.
For extroverts, especially those fully in-tune with a default Happy-Church context, I hope they might recognize—just a bit more—that there is a significant and quiet minority who have to endure parts of their comfortable church experience. For the most congenitally extroverted, this might be a big surprise. For others, I hope this exposition could be a reminder that people vary in temperament, and perhaps some strongly extroverted ways of “doing church” could use a bit more moderation.
Rich Hannon is a retired software engineer. His long-standing avocations include philosophy, geology, and medieval history.
