I’ve been doing a lot of subconscious processing lately. If I’ve learned anything about myself in the last several years, it’s that most of my “good” processing happens when I’m unaware of it. This thought has led me to try to make that kind of processing happen, which doesn’t work. But still I try. Over and over, I try.
I think one of the most shocking things I’ve learned in the successful processing I have done is that I’m not the same person I have always thought I was. There have been lots of shifts in my life in the last several years and I tried to respond to those shifts as I’ve always thought I should as a good Christian. I tried to think positive, to give and accept grace, to move along to the next things I was being called to. I tried to be kind and patient and loving and sacrificial (which I don’t succeed at nearly as often as I would like to). I tried for so many years to be the person I thought I was and the person I put my identity in. That is, until recently, when I realized I’m not that person.
Anybody who has had any deep conversation with me over the last few years will know the the Enneagram has been a staple in my life for years, and before that was MBTI (for those who don’t know, both of these are personality typing systems). I dove deep into the Enneagram starting about three and a half years ago and I learned a lot of useful things about other people and relating to those closest to me, but I’ve realized that the thing I learned the least about from my time studying it was myself. I’ve been convinced since almost the beginning that I was a 2, which is a type that loves to love people and is characterized by the notion that they “need to be needed.” I thought this summed up who I was, since I have been in various helping roles and enjoyed them tremendously. I saw so much of who I thought I was in the 2. I told everybody that I was a 2.
But I’m starting from the ground up recently because the person I thought I was—a two—for so long has turned out to be only a shell of who I actually am. I want to make clear here before going any further that I don’t think anything can or should replace who God says I am in my life. I do think, however, that there are tools that can be useful in the fulfillment of God’s best for my life and I see the Enneagram as simply a tool to that end that has tremendously helped me to relate to others and see things from their point of view.
And what I’ve learned from that tool, all of a sudden, is that I am actually a 9. It’s been a whole process that would be quite boring to read so I’ll spare you the details, but when I was recently reconnecting with an old friend, I realized that a lot of what she was saying about herself as a 9 applied to me, and that made me feel so many things. As someone who can talk to you in great length about the things that characterize each of the 9 numbers of the Enneagram, I was embarrassed to realize that I knew a ton about everybody except myself. Apparently, it’s pretty common for a female 9 to mistype herself as a 2, particularly in Christian circles since the obvious actions of a typical 2 are generally considered to be the most traditionally “Christ-like.”
The reason I’m talking to you about all of this personality mumbo-jumbo is because realizing I’m a 9 has brought me to a realization that has entirely changed the way I see myself and how I do life. Nines are known for their desire to be unaffected by the world around them, and I’m realizing that pattern in my life increasingly with every day. And I don’t like it.
I think about how Jesus lived in the world, totally in sync with what was happening around him, totally submissive to His Father’s will in His life, regardless of who it upset. I recognize in myself a desire to please people regardless of the consequences to avoid conflict. I recognize a desire to numb out when things get stressful and to be wholly unaffected by whatever means necessary.
But I don’t think that’s what God wants from me. I think there may come times that being unaffected can come in handy, but overall, I think it’s time I start to change some things in myself. Instead of numbing out to social media when things get tough, it’s time to be present to the pain and not push it down and say everything it okay. Instead of people pleasing to avoid conflict, it’s time to stand up and do what I know is right and speak up for those without a voice. I need to let myself be affected by the people Jesus loves so deeply, not numb to their pain. Jesus died for this world and I don’t want to get to the end of my life and say I made it through without many scratches or wounds. It’s high time that I realize there is great beauty in imperfections and that to be constantly unaffected is to be unloving. To be loved is to be hurt, sometimes. To be open might invite conflict. It’s time to wage a war against the complacency in my life and learn to let myself feel the pain that conflict brings and to love others strongly along the way. At the same time, I can’t be caught up in the passing cares the world has to offer me along the way. Things like politics may be part of life, but letting them affect the peace that Jesus offers isn’t Christ-like, either. I must allow myself to be affected while not becoming stuck in the tension and distractions the world offers me. I must remain focused on the true calling I am beckoned to:
To live for Christ, whatever the cost.
This post has read a bit more like a journal entry, being that it’s so personal to my own experience. But I think most people experience the desire to be unaffected in some way, shape, or form in their lives. Pain and past hurts often lead us to put up walls around our heart that leave us feeling isolated in a castle of our own making. I think it’s time to tear down those castle walls and let ourselves be seen. Let’s grasp courage with all the strength that we can muster and go about our lives with a commitment to love big and not leave anything on the table. Let’s live and love like Jesus, friends. Let’s let ourselves be seen and hurt and ridiculed for the sake of the Gospel, today and everyday hereafter.
Amanda Christine 