Tag: life

For a long time, I thought something was wrong with me.

I loved preaching, teaching, and leading, but after Sundays, conferences, or camps, I was exhausted. Not “I need a nap” tired. More like “please don’t talk to me for 24 hours” tired. I assumed that if God had really called me to public ministry, it shouldn’t cost me this much internally.

Then I finally found language for it.

I’m an introvert with public gifts.

That single sentence reframed everything.

Introversion Isn’t the Opposite of Leadership

Somewhere along the way, the church absorbed a quiet assumption, leaders are extroverts. If you’re energized by crowds, quick with words, and always ready to engage, leadership must be your sweet spot. If you’re reflective, inwardly processing, and need solitude to recharge, you must be better suited for behind-the-scenes roles.

But introversion has never been about ability. It’s about energy.

Introverts don’t avoid people. We engage deeply, then we pay a cost for it. Public ministry doesn’t repel us, it drains us. That doesn’t mean we’re bad at it. It means we steward it differently.

Public Gifts, Private Processing

One of the consistent findings in my research was this, introverted pastors often thrive in visible leadership roles, but they do their best work before and after the spotlight, not during it.

They prepare deeply.
They reflect longer.
They replay conversations.
They pray through decisions quietly.
They process inwardly what others process out loud.

That means the sermon didn’t start on Sunday morning, it started days earlier in silence. The leadership decision didn’t happen in the meeting, it happened on a walk, in prayer, or sitting alone with a notebook.

The gift is public. The process is private.

And that’s not a flaw, it’s a feature.

Jesus Fits This Pattern Better Than We Admit

Jesus was fully comfortable teaching crowds, confronting leaders, and commanding attention. Those are public gifts if there ever were any. Yet His pattern was unmistakable.

He withdrew often.
He prayed alone.
He avoided unnecessary attention.
He didn’t rush to respond.
He chose silence when others demanded noise.

Jesus didn’t lack social ability. He lacked the need to perform.

He knew when to step forward and when to step away. That rhythm wasn’t weakness, it was wisdom.

Why This Matters for Pastors and Leaders

If you’re an introverted leader with public gifts, here’s the danger, you’ll assume exhaustion means disobedience. You’ll think needing quiet means you’re failing. You’ll try to imitate extroverted rhythms that slowly hollow you out.

That’s how burnout sneaks in wearing the mask of faithfulness.

You don’t need to become louder.
You don’t need to be “on” all the time.
You don’t need to apologize for needing space.

You need to honour how God wired you.

Public ministry will always cost you something. The goal is not to eliminate the cost but to recover properly so you can keep showing up with integrity.

A Word to Churches and Teams

If you lead alongside introverts, pay attention to what you might be missing.

Silence is not disengagement.
Stillness is not laziness.
Needing space is not selfishness.

Some of your most prayerful leaders won’t dominate meetings.
Some of your most discerning pastors will speak last, not first.
Some of your most faithful servants will care deeply without broadcasting it.

The Body of Christ needs both visible energy and quiet depth. One without the other becomes unhealthy.

Naming It Changes Everything

When I finally said out loud, “I’m an introvert with public gifts,” I stopped fighting myself. I stopped spiritualizing exhaustion. I stopped assuming that leadership had to feel energizing all the time to be right.

Instead, I learned to lead with honesty, rest without guilt, and serve without pretending.

If that phrase resonates with you, maybe it’s because you’ve been carrying the same tension quietly for years.

You’re not broken.
You’re not unfit.
You’re not failing.

You’re an introvert with public gifts.

And God has always used people like that.

Dear Introverted Reader,

Be honest with me, do you ever wish that you were more introverted?

Have you ever observed your brother-in-law at a family wedding, wearing his tie on his forehead like a headband, dancing like an absolute fool? Part of you is embarrassed by his absolute void of shame for causing such a scene, but another part of you is envious of his lack of inhibitions, free from liquid courage, no less!

I confess, I believe life would be easier if I were more extroverted.

What’s it like to flit around a room like a butterfly visiting each flower in a field, picking up energy as you go? What’s it like to make a phone call without taking time to get psyched up first and to re-calm afterward? What’s it like to be at a convention and prefer to be in groups of three, introducing yourself and saying three fun facts rather than hiding in a bathroom that’s off-the-beaten-path in sweet solitude?

I’m not saying that I want to be an extrovert, but it would be nice to be able to act more extroverted some of the time. If you can relate to that feeling, you are certainly not alone!

In her book, The Introvert Advantage, Marti Olsen Laney reported a study that had been replicated three times. Both introverts and extroverts were asked whether they would prefer their ideal self to be introverted or extroverted, and which they would prefer in their ideal leader. Both groups preferred their ideal self and their ideal leader to be extroverted.

I’m sure we’d all like to change things about ourselves, but much like our height, there’s not much we can do to cause permanent change. For better or worse, in my conversations with introverted pastors, a quiet pattern emerged: they were able to wear a mask of extroversion for about half a decade, but around that time, something had to give: their health, their joy, or their job. Susan Cain refers to this as the Rubber Band Theory.

When we act in ways that align with our personality preferences, we are like a rubber band at rest. Conversely, when we are required to do things that go against our natural patterns, we are like the rubber band pulled further towards its limits. We are elastic, and we can stretch ourselves, but only so much before we break.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still proud to be an introvert and thankful for the gifts that come with this personality type. We, as introverts, have many gifts to offer the church, and need to be confident in who God has created us to be, but it’s ok to be honest about our struggles too.

If you have spent years stretching yourself thin trying to act like someone you are not, maybe it’s time to let the tension ease. When you minister from your true wiring, you end up offering people something far better than performance, your presence.

I am currently taking my research from my dissertation and writing a book for introverted church leaders. I trust it will be helpful for all introverted believers; in fact, I think it’s a worthwhile read for all extroverted believers too, but the focus is on introverted church leaders.

The purpose of the book is to openly and honestly explore the strengths and challenges of being an introvert in church leadership. In doing so, there is a risk of portraying introverts as humble saints quietly following Jesus while avoiding being steamrolled by gregarious extroverted bulldozers. That is not my intention with the book. I am not shaming extroverts nor sanitizing introverts.

There have been times when I’ve questioned whether this book is relevant or whether this topic is worth exploring. Then something happens that reminds me exactly why this book is important. Let me share two very recent examples.

I regularly post videos on social media about faith, leadership, and introversion. I shared a short clip of myself, an introverted worshipper, unable to contain my excitement when the beat drops. The joke is that I went from standing completely still to gently moving side to side and tapping my coffee cup to the beat. It was a silly video poking fun at the fact that introverts are usually less outwardly expressive in their worship; it wasn’t meant to be serious. However, I received some comments on the video that made me realize this book is relevant.

One viewer commented:

Bro, I don’t even remember if I was ever an introvert. Since the fire of God entered my life, the word “introvert” doesn’t exist for me.

Another individual remarked to the first:

Haha YES!!! Good for you!! Same here… when it comes to Jesus I am LOUD!! I am a completely different person by His grace ❤️. Me He continue to bless you! [sic]

The message is clear: mature Christians are not introverts. In fact, if you have the fire of God within you, you will be delivered from the “sin” of introversion. Once you become a mature Christian, you will become a “completely different person by His grace,” a person who is no longer hindered by the enemy’s flaming arrows of introversion.

In his book Blessed are the Misfits, Brant Hansen aptly stated:

When one person insinuates that another must be spiritually lacking because of a dearth of feeling, it’s worthwhile pointing out that this is utterly foreign to the biblical concept of bearing fruit.

Another inspired text reads:

The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7b).

The Sunday following these online comments, I was talking with a dear saint between church services. Being fully aware that I am our church’s resident introvert, she shared with me her own struggles as an introverted Christian. She had been advised to stop referring to herself as an introvert because she was making agreements with the enemy. Proverbs 18:21 is clear: our words hold the power of life and death. This introspective and reserved woman was told to stop speaking curses over herself, or she might never be free.

These stories might sound extreme, but they reflect common conversations within the church. I’ve been encouraged many times to stop calling myself an introvert. I’ve spoken with numerous pastors and laypeople who have been discouraged from making such negative statements about themselves. These comments are not meant maliciously; I don’t believe the people involved had any bad intentions. However, they reveal a deeper issue—one that has shaped church leadership expectations for decades: extroversion has become the assumed spiritual default.

“I just wish you’d speak up more.”
If you’re an introverted leader, you’ve probably heard that before, maybe from a colleague, a board member, or even a well-meaning church member. It’s usually said kindly, but it reveals a deeper misunderstanding of quiet people.

We often assume that passion looks loud, that leadership looks busy, and that silence means disengagement. But if you’ve ever been led by a deeply thoughtful, prayerful introvert, you know that’s not true.

Introverted doesn’t mean indifferent.

1. The Misreading of Quiet Leaders

Introverts tend to process internally before responding. In meetings, they may sit quietly while others talk, not because they have nothing to say, but because they’re still thinking. When the moment passes, it’s easy for others to interpret that as apathy.

In reality, it’s the opposite.
Introverts are often more engaged than they appear. They’re observing the dynamics in the room, weighing the words being said, and considering the ripple effects of decisions. Where an extroverted leader might process ideas aloud, an introvert does the same work silently, with equal care and conviction.

During my doctoral research, an introverted paster remarked, “By the time I speak, I’ve already written and edited three versions of my response in my head.” That’s not disinterest, that’s discipline.

2. The Depth of Quiet Concern

Introverted leaders often express care in ways that are easy to miss.
They may not rush to console someone publicly, but they’ll follow up quietly with a note, a text, or a prayerful conversation later. They may not voice opinions in every meeting, but they’ll stay up late reflecting and asking God for wisdom on how to serve best.

Their care runs deep, even when it runs silent.

That’s why churches need to learn to see beneath surface energy. Outward enthusiasm is wonderful, but it’s not the only sign of engagement. Jesus told us, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:34). For some leaders, that treasure is in words; for others, it’s in attention. Introverts treasure people by listening to them deeply.

3. Jesus Was Never Indifferent, but He Was Often Quiet

When we think about Jesus’ leadership, we often picture His public moments, the teaching on the mount, the feeding of the five thousand, and the fiery temple cleansing. But much of His ministry happened quietly: private conversations, quiet prayers, deliberate pauses.

In John 8, when confronted by an angry crowd demanding a reaction, Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dirt. He didn’t rush to respond. He created space for reflection, for Himself and for them.

That’s the kind of leadership our world desperately needs: not reactive, but reflective. Not indifferent, but intentional.

4. Why Quiet Care Matters

The introverted way of caring doesn’t draw attention to itself, and maybe that’s the point. Paul reminds us that the quieter parts of the body are often the most indispensable (1 Corinthians 12:22).

Introverted pastors may not always lead with fanfare, but they often lead with faithfulness, quietly preparing sermons long after everyone else has gone home, praying over names in a church directory, writing personal notes of encouragement, or simply sitting with someone in silence.

These quiet acts of care rarely trend, but they transform.

5. Creating Space for Different Kinds of Passion

Churches flourish when they learn to value different temperaments of passion. Not all fire burns the same way.

• Some flames dance high and visible.
• Others burn low and steady.

Both give light.

We do a disservice to the Body of Christ when we assume one kind of energy is holier than another. The extrovert’s enthusiasm stirs hearts; the introvert’s steadiness anchors them. One leads the song; the other listens for harmony.

6. A Call for Reframing

If you’re an introverted leader, hear this: your quietness doesn’t make you less spiritual, less passionate, or less called. The way you care may not always be seen, but it is felt. You don’t have to match someone else’s volume to match their devotion.

And if you’re serving alongside an introvert, resist the urge to measure their heart by their noise level. Ask questions. Give them time. Watch how they love in small, deliberate ways. You might discover a depth of compassion that words could never capture.

The Quiet Passion of Jesus

When we look at Jesus, we see both bold proclamation and quiet presence. He could speak to thousands, and He could sit in silence with one hurting soul. His passion wasn’t measured by how loudly He preached but by how fully He loved.

Introverted doesn’t mean indifferent. It often means someone is loving you in a way that doesn’t demand attention, with prayer, thoughtfulness, and peace.

And in a world addicted to noise, that kind of love just might sound the most like Jesus.

Every so often, I think it’s essential to remind you that introversion is a spectrum, and not everything I write, as an introvert, will be relatable to everyone on the introverted side of the spectrum. Some extroverts may find themselves relating to my experiences on a personal level. As you read today’s post, some of you will breathe a sigh of relief that you’re not the only one feeling this way, while others, even deeply introverted people, may find nothing in common with this scenario. Here we go.

Metacognition

Metacognition is a fancy term that simply means thinking about thinking. And I believe it’s one of the primary reasons that introverts often worship differently than their extroverted sisters and brothers in Christ.

As I’ve talked with other introverted Christians, I’ve picked up on a common thread. We are typically less expressive in our worship. That doesn’t mean we’re not “into” the worship. It doesn’t mean we love Jesus less. It simply means our worship sometimes looks different. For example, an extrovert could easily catch the social contagion of active worship and raise their hands and sway side to side, feeling no deep connection with the Holy Spirit or a particular love for Christ, but rather a deep sense of connection to the people around them. An introvert could be sitting during the lively worship set, quiet and still, filled with gratitude for God’s mercy and love for us.

Do not judge a book by its cover. I’m not saying all extroverts are putting on a show and that all non-singing introverts are deep in worship. But don’t judge a book by its cover.

& Introverted Worship

Last night we had a night of worship at our church, 90 minutes of singing together. At one point, the worship leaders encouraged people to “be free” in worship. I think they meant a particular kind of freedom. The freedom to dance and clap and hoot and holler. I don’t think they meant that we should feel free to sit still and not sing at all, but rather allow the words and music to wash over us, and carefully consider the meaning of the words.

Many people came to the front of the sanctuary and knelt on the floor, or raised their hands and danced. Towards the end of the evening, the worship team played some more celebratory praise songs, and a worship mosh pit formed in front of me. I had zero desire to join the group. They looked like they were having fun, singing loud and exuberantly; what more could a worship team desire from a crowd?

I used to worry it was rebellion. A desire to not conform to the group. I would get particularly distracted whenever a worship leader would give me instructions. Chris Tomlin once told a group of about 5,000 youth leaders to hold hands and dance in unison. I was one of the 5,000 and hated every second of this activity. While Chris, I’m sure a godly man with a pure heart, delighted in making a bunch of adults dance like David, I was not dancing in freedom. No, I was a captive, a hostage. Had I any inkling that Chris would make me do this, I would have already been in the bathroom, playing Angry Birds on my phone, waiting out the activity.

Not Rebellious, Just Introverted

I’ve learned it’s not rebellion. It’s metacognition. While extroverts often have the ability to just do something for the fun of it, introverts often are in two places at once. We are simultaneously in the event itself, but also observing it as an outsider would. We are thinking about the activity while we are doing it. I’m considering holding hands with a stranger, something I would never do voluntarily. I’m thinking about jumping up and down with a few thousand adults. Not thinking about how grateful I am for God’s mercy and love, no, I’m thinking about how silly this all is. I’m thinking about how tired my feet are after walking through the conference all day, now jumping to a worship song, unable to sing as my knees and back grow weary. Silently recounting how many times Chris has sung the bridge to try and anticipate how much longer the song might be. I wonder if the men on either side of me are as uncomfortable as I am and would much rather sit in the lobby and pray for each other’s families and ministries.

Sure, it would be great to just get lost in the moment and let go. But that’s not how I’m wired. It may be a hindrance at a worship event, but what a blessing it is when sitting next to someone in hospice care. Quietly listening to the person’s stories without interjecting my own. What a blessing it is to feel comfortable when the conversation lulls and stalls, with no anxious moments, as the room has been silent for three and a half minutes.

Like many introverts, there are times when I am more demonstrative in my worship. But it’s when I feel like God delights in it, not Chris Tomlin, or my local worship leader. When I feel like there’s a point to it, not just a feeling, but an understanding that God is delighting in this natural response to those moments of silent reflection.

I’m all for pushing our comfort zones. However, I would always caution the extroverted half of the church that our lack of visible action does not mean we are less than. Worship leaders, if God is telling you to tell us to do something, then obey. But if it’s just because you want us to mirror what you are doing, realize that many of us have been taken out of obedience to God to make a decision whether or not to obey you.

In their book, Leading from the Second Chair, Mike Bonem and Roger Patterson pose the question, “Would you rather be right on the issues, or in right relationships?”

While their context is not specific to introverts, I think it’s a valuable question for us to ask.

As introverts, we typically don’t do things we don’t believe in. We are less likely to do something new just to do something new. I have often said, “Of course, my way is the best way. If there were a better way, I would do it that way.” Not that I personally pioneer the best way to do ministry. I carefully weigh all of the options available, consider the pros and cons, and make an unemotional decision that I think is best for the people I serve.

With such careful consideration, introverts often have greater conviction in their decisions than extroverts, who often jump on the boat that excites them the most in the moment. When others are critical of my ministry, it can feel like they are being critical of me because my ministry decisions are incredibly personal. I have thought deeply about the whys and the whats of ministry and can confidently give reasons for everything that we do or don’t do.

As introverted leaders, we think deeply and with purpose, and as a result, we come to our beliefs with strong convictions. These strong convictions come with a deep sense of right and wrong. Partner this with the fact that introverts only need a small group of close friends, and we can understand the nuance behind Bonem and Patterson’s question, “Would you rather be right on the issues, or in right relationships?”

A problem can arise when we care so deeply about being right that we can unintentionally damage the relationships that give voice to our convictions. Influence comes through trust, not simply having a ten-point explanation why we are correct on a certain matter. If people don’t feel like they can trust me, it doesn’t matter how much I am in the right; they won’t follow. But when I invest in relationships, my convictions gain a hearing.

The truth is, being right doesn’t always lead to change. In fact, being right at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, can close doors instead of opening them.

For introverted leaders, the call is not to compromise on conviction, but to continue cultivating good relationships with supervisors, colleagues, and those under our leadership. Our influence flows not only from what we believe but from the trust others have in us.

So maybe the question isn’t simply, “Am I right in this decision?” but “Am I building the kind of relationships that will allow my rightness to bear good fruit?”