What Does God Want From Shy Christians?

“What particular use do you suppose God has in mind for shy Christians?[1] There ought to be something. I don’t think “shy” is a disease. I don’t think it’s a character disorder. Some people are just shy and if they are Christians, they are shy Christians.

Let’s begin by looking at what shy is going to mean in this piece. It doesn’t refer to people who have a psychotic hatred of or a neurotic aversion to people. Those are diseases and I’m not talking about diseases. It isn’t the stirring of a sense of self-consciousness and the mild anxiety that sometimes goes with it in stressful situations. Those are things that could happen to anyone, given the right situation; they aren’t the property of shy people particularly.

I’m inclined to say that I, myself, am shy. I hesitate to say so because the fact is that most people say they are shy, when they are asked. And also because I made a living being professionally gregarious at and around the legislature in Salem for many years. And also because I have chosen a career that involves standing before groups of people and trying to teach them about politics. And also because I have a daughter who described herself as shy when she was a cheerleader—a cheerleader!—in high school and I could not find a way to take her account of herself seriously. I am taking it seriously now.

I am going to follow my original inclination, however, and say that I am shy. I want to spend a little time saying what I mean by that and then a little more time trying to answer the question with which I began this post. It will take just a little extra time because I want to build the general case for gifts (see 1 Corinthians 12 for Paul’s take) and then apply it to temperament and character. Or, more exactly, to kinds of temperament and character.

So here’s what I mean by shy. I go into an unstructured situation not knowing what to do. I think what it must feel like to gregarious people—that’s what I’m calling “the other kind of people.” It must feel like an opportunity to meet new people or to exchange casual conversation with friends and acquaintances. It must feel like a party that goes on and on. I’m guessing. When I’m at a party, I try to find someone who really wants to talk about something—“talk about something” describes the kind of conversation, not any topic in particular—and go off into a quiet corner with that person and play with the idea until it’s time to go home. I tell myself I do that because I'm shy.

I also think gregarious people make different kinds of mistakes than shy people. Gregarious people are inclined to take more, in a conversation, than was offered and the people from whom that more was taken sometimes feel bad about it. Shy people are inclined to take less, in a conversation, than was offered and the people who saw their offer rejected sometimes feel bad about it. You noted the parallelism there, I trust. For every way of doing it right, there is a way of doing it wrong. For every temperament, there are jobs that belong particularly to people whose temperaments make them good at it. It's their job.

I like “largetalk;” smalltalk just doesn’t do it for me. (I am using both largetalk and smalltalk against the advice of my spellchecker, but when it objected to spellchecker, I stopped taking it seriously.) Besides, I’m no good at smalltalk. And the effort of it wears me out. I’m really tired afterwards and, usually, discouraged as well because I’ve done the job so badly. And I remember that it has been a long time since I remembered to take a deep breath. And I think there are a lot of people like me. I don’t know if that way of characterizing the experience I’m calling “being shy” has any resonance with you. I hope so, because it’s the best I can do right now.

Now I want to take a small theological detour. I’m going to play off of Paul’s chapter on “gifts,” where he says that everyone is given a gift that could be used for the building up of the group. I’m going to say that everyone is a kind of person. Every kind of person is better at something—shy people might have acute empathy with others, for instance—than another kind of person. Every Christian has the obligation and the opportunity, to be of service as the kind of person he actually is. Doing what you can do, acting in a sustainable positive fashion, is all one person can expect of another. It is sometimes argued that God expects more, but I have not yet been persuaded.

That’s how the system works. Everyone is diligent about doing what he can do. Everyone is appreciative of the people who do other kinds of good things. Both those contribute to the vitality and effectiveness of the group.

There are some exceptions I would grant. I am thinking of four in particular. The first is that every now and then, something needs to be done and you are the person who is there. The fact that the job to be done is “not your kind of thing” doesn’t really matter in this case. If it’s you or nobody, it’s you. The second is that this understanding does relieve you of the need to do the things that would be done better by others, but it identifies as crucially important that you do the things that belong to people like you. The third is that there are some things that now cause you great anxiety which, if you would learn to do them better, could be a normal and sustainable part of your repertory. And, finally, it is worth remembering that we are talking about shy today, but no one is just shy. People are shy and competent and insensitive and knowledgeable and naive and “having a bad day.”

That’s the theological dilemma and a four practical little buffers. Now that we come, finally, to the question of what God wants from shy Christians, we find it is already answered. There is always the possibility that this is my answer, not God’s, but let’s stop for a moment and remember whose blog this is.

The answer is that, under ordinary circumstances, God wants shy Christians to do carefully and well the work their shyness prepares them to do. No one is obligated, by virtue of being a follower of Jesus Christ, to be gregarious. At my church, they are careful to ask the congregation to “stand if you are able,” but we are not asked to "sing if you are able,” or to “make smalltalk if you are able.” (I have made smalltalk one word against the advice of my spellchecker.) We say that the coffee time after the worship service is “fellowship” and we call it “a good thing” because, after all, who is against “fellowship?” I don’t know. Who is against cocktail party conversation? The coffee time is stressful because it is about either meeting new people or talking intently to your friends so you won’t have to meet the new people. The new people really do need to be not only met, but welcomed. I hope very much that someone does that because if it needs to be done and no one is doing it, I am back on the hook again and for me, the costs are high.

I believe that every person has a gift to give, but in this post, I am arguing that every kind of person has a gift. If they give it, they should be supported by those of their friends who know what is going on. If they fail to give it, they should be criticized (helpfully) by those of their friends who know what is going on. But they will not be expected to do the things that will cost them a good deal when those things could be done by people who would consider them a golden opportunity.

The point I am about to make, the last point, is a very small-scale view of God’s providence. I know that Providence—that’s Providence with a capital P—is about larger things. I remember a remark that “Providence” is the word Christians use for history. But we do say that God provides, the Latin is providere, because God foresees; the Latin is pro = “before” + videre = “to see.” It is God’s ability to see what is needed that sustains God’s ability to provide what is needed.

Nothing in the Christian doctrine of Providence implies that I, myself, will see what is coming or what is needed in any systematic way. But the implication of this notion of providence is that there is a “fitting together” of the faithfulness of different kinds of disciples that makes the outcome of their service more than the simple sum of the work they have done.


[1] Shy doesn’t suggest everything I have in mind, but I think it is the best word overall. I have been surprised by how differently this question develops for me when I say introverted or reserved or private instead of shy. My mind simply takes different paths when I think of this dilemma using those other words. I have stayed with shy because it is a more colloquial word; essentially, a wider door. A door more people can get through and move on into the rest of the post.