Author: josh

The Seven-Year Snitch

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Some introverted pastors burn out.
Others fade.
But many of us just break quietly, somewhere around year seven.

In my doctoral research on introverted pastors, I discovered a striking trend: most introverted church leaders can “pass” as extroverts for about five to seven years before the cracks begin to show. Somewhere along that ministry timeline, the soul snitches on the mask.

It’s not always dramatic; no collapse on stage or tearful resignation. But the joy starts leaking. The spark goes flat. And many begin to ask a haunting question:
“Is there something wrong with me… or am I just not built for this?”

The Extrovert Ideal in Church Culture

Susan Cain, in her groundbreaking book Quiet, coined the term “the extrovert ideal,” the cultural assumption that the best people are bold, loud, assertive, and always “on.” Churches, whether they realize it or not, often reflect this belief.

Scan most church job postings and you’ll see it:

“Outgoing.”
“Energetic.”
“Personable.”
“Visionary leader who thrives in fast-paced team environments.”

It’s no wonder that introverted pastors, many of whom are deeply called, profoundly gifted, and wildly misunderstood, end up exhausted, confused, and silently ashamed for not being more like their extroverted peers.

Why It Takes 5–7 Years to Hit the Wall

There are good reasons the mask holds for a while.

For one, personality continues to settle well into our twenties, especially in men. Young leaders are still shaping their identity, more flexible, more malleable, more eager to meet expectations at any cost.

Second, calling is powerful fuel. You feel summoned by God to lead. You don’t want to disappoint. So you stretch. Smile harder. Talk longer. Attend everything. Become someone people expect you to be.

Until one day, you can’t.

And when the mask slips, it’s not rebellion. It’s honesty.

Talk to Someone Who Gets It

In my interviews with introverted pastors, I asked one question:

“Have you ever talked to anyone about this struggle?”

Every one of them, every single one, said:

“Who would I talk to? No one else gets it.”

This is tragic. Because statistically, nearly half of all pastors probably do get it.

If that’s you, hear me clearly:
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
And you don’t have to be extroverted to be effective.

This is the beginning of an ongoing conversation, and I’d love to hear from you. If you’ve hit the seven-year wall, or you’re afraid you’re getting close, send me a message. Let’s build a space where quiet leaders can finally lead out loud, in their own way.

I’ll Be Your Moses if You’ll Be My Aaron

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Let me begin with a disclaimer: the title is a bit tongue-in-cheek. I’m not trying to prove that Moses was an introvert and Aaron was an extrovert. The purpose of the title is simply to highlight how their God-ordained partnership accomplished something neither could have done alone.

That said, Moses’ initial response to God’s call (Exodus 3–4) does resemble what many of us introverts experience when asked to lead: hesitation, resistance, and a preference for obscurity. Moses even says, “Please send someone else” (Exodus 4:13). God, in His graciousness, pairs Moses with Aaron, who is described as confident in speech (Exodus 4:14–16). Moses would speak to Aaron, and Aaron would relay the message to the people. Distinct roles, united purpose.

With that groundwork laid, let’s move on.

I’m writing this on a Saturday afternoon, right in the thick of our youth collective’s annual youth conference (www.yxhconference.com). While hundreds of students buzz around the building and I have to be “on” for most of the weekend, I’ve stolen a few quiet minutes in my office, my introvert’s sanctuary, to reflect on the power of partnering well.

This is our third year running the conference. Back when it started, I literally had an Aaron, Aaron Pardy, a youth pastor in town (now a senior pastor). We never formally discussed roles. We just naturally settled into them. And it highlighted something beautiful: we complemented each other in a way that brought the vision to life.

Aaron is a dreamer. Creative. Big-picture thinker. The kind of guy who tosses out ten ideas before breakfast, most of them brilliant. Me? I like structure. I like boxes, especially the kind I can check off. Where he brought energy and vision, I brought systems and spreadsheets.

When we were preparing for the first conference, Aaron’s enthusiasm was contagious. I worried about attendance, budget, and logistics. He worried about… actually, I don’t think he worried about anything. He dreamed up $1,000 ideas, and I figured out how to pull them off with $100. Together, we were a good team.

Introverts and extroverts need each other. Not to tolerate one another, but to thrive together. Paul puts it this way in 1 Corinthians 12: “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you.’” We each bring different gifts, and when we honour one another’s contributions, we build something far greater than we could alone.

So here’s my challenge: learn to partner well. You were never meant to do it all, so don’t.

1. Look Out

Evaluate your partnerships. Are there team members whose gifts you’re under-utilizing simply because their style is different from yours? I once spoke with a pastor who was incredibly gifted at hospital visitation and walking with grieving families. His extroverted colleagues were shocked: “You like doing that?” But his presence in those “sacred spaces” was powerful. Once his gifting was noticed and affirmed, he was freed to lean into it even more and even helped others grow in that area. That’s a win-win-win.

2. Look Within

A mentor once asked me, “Are you doing anything that you don’t need to be doing?” That question stung a little. Because, as introverts, we often find it easier to just do things ourselves than ask someone else. But in the long run, that stifles both our energy and others’ growth.

Try this: for one or two weeks, track your tasks. Then ask, “Am I doing anything that drains me that someone else would love to do?” Personally, I can’t stand decorating for events. Tablecloths, centrepieces, balloons? Not my thing. But I have a volunteer who lights up for that stuff. I give her a budget and full freedom. It’s a small thing, but it’s a partnership that breathes life into both of us.

Are there people in your orbit who aren’t being fully released into their strengths?

Final Thoughts

Partnering well isn’t just about getting things done; it’s about reflecting the Body of Christ in all its diverse beauty. Whether you’re a Moses looking for an Aaron, or an Aaron supporting a Moses, don’t miss the joy of shared calling. You were made to serve together.

Dear Extroverted Worship Leaders: A Word from Your Introverted Siblings

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Before I ever preached a sermon, I learned how to hide in church. For me, it was a quiet bathroom stall, not because I needed to use the facilities, but because I needed a breath of silence. That out-of-the-way refuge offered peace and solitude when the lobby chatter or sanctuary energy overwhelmed me. Over time, I learned I wasn’t alone. Pastors. Professors. Lay leaders. Introverts, we’ve all had our hiding places.

As I conducted research for my dissertation on introverted leadership, I discovered stories far more common than I imagined. So many of us in the church, those of us who lead quietly, feel deeply, and process slowly, carry the weight of invisibility. We don’t talk about it because we often don’t know where we fit. We’re faithful but quiet. Present, but hidden.

Take, for example, the classic classroom frustration. Participation marks go to those quick to speak, even if they ramble, while the thoughtful ones hold their tongues, searching for clarity before contributing. We value words too much to spill them before they’re ready.

Worship poses a similar challenge. For years, I thought I was the only one who felt guilty about not being expressive enough. I would ask myself: Do I even love Jesus if I can’t jump and shout like everyone else?

In Blessed Are the Misfits, Brant Hansen writes:

“It’s taken me many years to accept that my lack of emotional response to [modern worship lyrics] isn’t indicative of God’s absence from my life. It’s no wonder so many analytical types find themselves estranged from a Christian subculture that traffics in emotional appeals. We find ourselves wondering what’s wrong with us, perhaps even begging God to make Himself real to us in the way He clearly is to others.”

This past weekend, I attended a gathering that leaned charismatic. While it usually allows room for quieter expressions, at one point the leader began encouraging everyone to be more physically engaged. A dance line formed, eventually evolving into a circle of hand-holding revellers parading around the sanctuary. People were laughing and spinning in joyful abandon.

And I stood there, tapping my foot, avoiding eye contact, hoping no one would try to pull me in.

He urged us to “dance like David” and “leave our egos at the door.” It made me pause. Why don’t I feel compelled to join in? Am I rebellious? Proud? Spiritually immature?

No. I’ve come to believe it’s none of those things.

I am deliberate. I value intention. I want my worship to be real, not reactive. If something requires emotional or mental energy, I want to know it serves a purpose beyond crowd enthusiasm. I’m glad the worship leader is excited. I’m glad others are dancing. But I’ve learned that movement is not always a sign of worship, and stillness is not a sign of absence.

When the Holy Spirit prompts me to dance, I will. And have. In those moments, I didn’t care how I looked. But when a leader tells me to do it, asks me to jump, shout, kneel, hold hands with strangers, it often feels like I’m being pulled out of intimacy with God and into conformity with the crowd.

Here’s the heart of the matter: I’m not asking you to change your style. I’m asking you to make space. Space for the dancer and the kneeler. The shouter and the silent. The one who raises their hands and the one who folds them. Let the Holy Spirit lead, not just the stage.

Mark Tanner, in The Introverted Charismatic, says it best:

“Please would you stop telling me what to do when we are worshipping? It might give you immense pleasure to see me joining the crowd in jumping, shouting, hugging, swaying, or generally jiggling for Jesus, but in order to do so I need to draw my attention away from Him, focus on you, and struggle to get over my embarrassment at doing a silly thing in order to fit in with the crowd.”

Imagine a church where worship isn’t measured in volume or movement, but in obedience. Where stillness isn’t judged, and movement isn’t manufactured. That’s the kind of worship I believe God delights in.

And that’s the kind of church I long to be part of.

One Size Does Not Fit All

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One of my daughters has a slight learning challenge, and she is very bright. My wife and I recently met with a team of educators to discuss her progress, and after multiple tests, they have determined that she may have a form of dyslexia; she sometimes jumbles up letters and numbers, making reading comprehension a challenge, as well as making it difficult to do math in her head. Despite her written test scores, they know that she is intelligent because she has developed strategies to work around traditional problem-solving methods. She sees things differently than most children and has learned coping strategies to keep up with her classmates.

A lot of introverted pastors have developed their own coping strategies because they have been told most of their careers that they are not “normal.” The ideal church leader is the extroverted, gregarious, Rah-Rah, lead-the-charge type of pastor. None of those words describe introverted leaders. Yet, we feel an unshakeable call to ministry, so we do our best to become who we are supposed to be.

I have talked to many introverted pastors, and it seems to take five to seven years in ministry for introverted pastors to realize that acting extroverted is not a viable, long-term solution to the problem, so we learn ways of coping. We find ways to fight against our natural grain to be effective ministers of the Gospel, spending most of our vocational lives in ill-fitting clothing.

One of the things that I have learned in the past ten years is that God created me as I am and called me as I am. Does that mean I can pull the introvert card and tell my church that I will take one-on-one coffee meetings with twelve people a year, and the rest of the time will be split between studying in my office for sermons, at home with my family or in the mountains on solo spiritual retreats? Unfortunately, no.

So what does that mean? You and I do not have to become extroverted to be effective. We need to get uncomfortable sometimes, for sure, but we have permission to take a break from the crowds, too. We have permission to get into a twenty-minute conversation after church, even if that means we’ll miss out on twenty short chit-chats to briefly connect on the surface as parishioners stream towards the parking lot before hitting up Applebees (or, in our case, Costco).

You have permission to take a restorative niche when you’re feeling drained. You have permission to be the wet blanket at staff meetings when all the extroverts are brainstorming off the rails, and you see a few minor flaws in their tsunami of ideas. You have permission to slow down staff meetings and create some space to think. Introverts are inner processors; we often get told, “Every time you share, it’s so good, you need to share more.” You can tell them, “If you want me to share more, you need to share a little less. Maybe don’t talk over me when I start sharing an idea.” You have permission to do uncomfortable things.

So, here’s my challenge to you and me. In the next few days, think about your interactions, your work habits, and your energy levels. What are you doing to simply cope? Are you cheating yourself and your family, spending all of your emotional energy in places that aren’t paying dividends? Are you forcing yourself to be someone you aren’t? And then simply reflect, we’re good at that. Reflect on what you can do to make some adjustments so that you are swimming with the current.

You Deserve a Break Today

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From 1971 until 1995, McDonalds used the slogan, “You deserve a break today.” This slogan helped catapult the fast-food maker to burger dominance because it struck a nerve with adults who felt busy and run-down. This was their permission to take a much-needed and well-deserved break from their day and treat themselves.

If you are an introvert reading this, you likely feel most rundown when you are around people, especially large groups of people, even more especially when you are around a large group of unknown people. One of our Pastors, we’ll call him Rick, because that’s his name. Rick is an extrovert; he may just be on the equal opposite side of the extroverted spectrum from me. When Rick sees 200 people in our foyer at church, he sees 200 new friends to meet. When I look at that exact same group of people, I see 200 people asking, “How was your week?” and “This weather, hey?” It’s exhausting; I don’t want to talk about meaningless things.

Introverts have a smaller social battery, and we get “peopled out” much quicker than our extroverted friends. If you haven’t read Brian Little’s Me, Myself, and Us, I highly recommend it. If you’re looking for a shorter, more concise read that gives the same major points, grab Who Are You, Really? Little was voted “Favourite Professor” for three consecutive years by the graduating class at Harvard and has an impeccable resume. Surprisingly, the animated and engaging professor, whose Harvard classes had unending waitlists, is one of us; he’s an introvert.

One way Dr. Little maintained his energy and engaging style was because of mini-retreats he called “restorative niches.” Little said that during the break in a lecture, he would take a break, find a restorative niche, and regain some energy and mental focus. These aren’t long, elaborate siestas; these were breaks from people and the accompanying chit-chat. He would hide away in his office, a broom closet, or even a restroom. It’s important to know your own engagement capacity and social battery levels. When you feel that you’re running low and know you need to be present and engaging for some time, finding your restorative niche may be a lifeline.

Go for a walk. When I was on campus for my Doctor of Ministry courses, I would find my social battery tanking. I needed a break, but I knew we had another 4 or 5 hours of class time remaining. During our coffee and lunch breaks, while many other students refilled their coffees and discussed the morning’s lectures, I explored the beautiful campus of Trinity Western University in Langley, BC. These 10- or 20-minute walks cleared my mind, helped me process the lecture I had just listened to and allowed me to reflect on my own. I returned energized and ready to engage for the next session.

Maybe you are like me, and more than once, you’ve found refuge in the restroom. Sometimes, you may find yourself at a conference, too far to return to your hotel room, too many people to find a quiet bench to enjoy a coffee and read a chapter of your current book (or scroll on your phone; this is a judgement-free zone!) So you have mapped out the conference center and found a single-person restroom tucked away in a quiet corner on the third floor of the conference center. Take those 5 or 10 minutes to collect your thoughts and reflect.

Do you practice restorative niches? Where are your favourite places to go?

When You’re the Quiet One at the Table

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Maybe you’ve been there, sitting in a room full of energy and noise, wondering if your silence means you don’t belong.

I know the feeling. It was 2009, and I had just joined the staff of a large, growing church. I had a general understanding of personality types, but didn’t consider myself introverted, at least not consciously. Back then, I didn’t think much about personality at all.

That changed fast.

Every Tuesday, I sat in staff meetings surrounded by seven extroverted pastors. They talked enthusiastically, often over each other, building ideas as they went. I sat back, listening and collecting my thoughts. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it was that I cared too much to speak an idea still taking shape. By the time I had something worth saying, the conversation had moved three items down the agenda.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you’ve gone entire Tuesdays with staff and never said a word. Maybe you’ve sat through university classes, painfully aware that your final grade depends on “participation,” but unable to force a half-formed thought into the open before the moment passes.

This is one of the quiet frustrations of being an introvert. We want to speak, but not over people. We want to share, but not prematurely. We value words, so we don’t waste them. And often, in church ministry, that makes us feel out of place.

If that’s you, I want you to know: you are not alone.

Whether you’re the life of the potluck or the one quietly refilling the coffee in the back, I believe there’s wisdom here for you. I invite you to share your stories, comment, ask questions, and journey with me. I’ve spent the past decade studying introverted leadership from a Christian perspective, academically, practically, and personally.

In fact, my doctoral dissertation was titled: “An Exploration into the Best Practices for Introverted Pastors Working in a Team Context.” As part of that research, I spoke with dozens of leaders who felt isolated, called to public ministry, but wired for internal reflection.

Oh, and I was fired from that church job. Two years in.

And I’m grateful. Truly.

That painful moment pushed me down a path of self-discovery and allowed me to finally embrace the strengths of introversion. I once believed being quiet disqualified me from pastoral ministry. Now I know better.

The Church needs introverts.
The Church needs extroverts.
And most of all, the Church needs us working together, with grace, patience, and understanding.

Part of why I started this blog is to test the waters. Is there a community of introverted leaders who feel this tension? Would a book on introverted leadership in the Church resonate with you? If so, I’d love to hear from you.

Bookmark the page. Come back often. My hope is to offer something worthwhile, something that encourages your soul and affirms your calling.

Blessings,
Josh

Welcome to the Introverted Pastor

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Hello, and thanks for stopping by.

This space, The Introverted Pastor, has been on my heart for a while now. After over two decades in ministry, I’ve come to realize something important: God doesn’t just use the bold, loud, upfront personalities. He also works powerfully through the quiet, the reflective, and yes, the introverted.

This blog is for people like me:

  • Pastors who find crowds draining but still love people deeply.
  • Leaders who’d rather spend an hour thinking than an hour talking.
  • Anyone trying to serve faithfully without becoming someone they’re not.

I’ll be writing about leadership, spiritual formation, the joys and challenges of ministry, and the unique perspective introverts bring to the Church. Some posts will draw from research I did during my doctoral work. Others will be raw reflections from the trenches of real life and ministry.

If you’re an introvert in ministry, or someone who works with one, I hope you’ll find encouragement, insight, and maybe even a little relief here.

We don’t need to shout to make an impact.
Quiet faithfulness speaks volumes.

Grace and peace,
— Josh