Tag Archives: uncertainty

Why I Love Being an 8 on the Enneagram

For those of  you who know me well, you know I’ve spent the last year reading almost everything I can get my hands on about the Enneagram and I’ve become somewhat of an evangelist for the personality tool among my friends and family.

Ironically my first foray into the Enneagram was not so entrancing–when I had to do a routine psych evaluation for ministry preparation, the instructor rather used my found type against me, arguing that perhaps it explained my aggression, hostility, and even atypical masculine characteristics!  Among people who know the Enneagram well, it’s not a secret that female 8s get a bad rap and are often misunderstood.  So that’s why it’s all the more profound that a few days ago, I think I finally realized what’s so powerful and meaningful about being an 8 in this world–a personality I haven’t always found so compelling or easy to live with.

Now if you’re new to the Enneagram, it may sound like I’m speaking another language.  But simply put the Enneagram is a personality system that groups our personalities into 9 types, but unlike Myers-Briggs or other personality systems, you’re not easily diagnosed through a test, because it’s a dynamic, interactive, relational system.  According to the Enneagram, the best parts of you are also the worst parts of you, so people don’t always find it “easy” or “happy” to find out their types, but thankfully, the system also allows for and encourages dynamic growth.

For my own part, and especially as an anthropologist, I think the Enneagram’s best, most basic reminder is that even if we’re from the same family, we don’t necessarily see the world the same way.  But other ways of seeing aren’t bad; in fact, they’re what make the world a much more interesting and beautiful place!  One of the best takeaways for me from learning the Enneagram is not just understanding myself better but also building more compassion inside myself for others in respecting and empathizing with the beautiful, perplexing ways they approach life that make the world a much more complicated, but fuller place.  Essentially the Enneagram affirms one of the basic tenets of anthropology: our differences make us human!

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Love this visual of the different Enneagram types and their values.

Therefore, if you’re interested in learning more about the Enneagram and even figuring out your type,  I’d recommend that you read about all the types, and perhaps in lieu of taking a test, read some of these great descriptions of each type, paying attention to the core values, the things that make you tick (you can scroll down for my suggestions for further resources below).  Enneagram types are complex in that they don’t tell you what a person’s vocation will be or whether they will be successful, but rather tell you more about that person’s motivation in life and some of the challenges they face and gifts that they possess.

But as I mentioned, when a lot of people find out their Enneagram type, they recognize it primarily because of the flaws they can see so clearly in themselves, while they fail to acknowledge or hone the strengths that inhabit their way of seeing the world.  As an 8 (with a  7 wing), “the challenger,” someone who is a natural born leader, makes decisions incredibly quickly, and is fearless, I had been really struggling with an experience of vocational discernment as of late.  In fact, because of these impetuous and quick-witted qualities, I kept remarking to my “spiritual director” that I suck at discernment: the waiting game, the listening game, the methodical weighing of options is just not me.  And as someone who is much more inclined to rely on my mind rather than my heart, I bemoaned my lack of intuition.

However, this type of thinking ignores some of the qualities which make 8s truly exceptional.  Because of my gusto, I am truly and uniquely fearless.  This certainly becomes a weakness in that I may struggle to emphasize and understand the insecurities others often face on a daily basis, but in my own life, when I see a challenge, I am invigorated, affirmed, and inspired.  Sign me up, I think. I’m all about taking risks, I scoff.  Bring it on! 

Thus, in my life when I have been able to reframe uncertainty and discernment as a challenge, I’ve been able to very quickly embrace the adventure that God has in store for me, not worrying about the consequences or the trials of that risk but plowing full steam ahead.  (As I told one of my friends recently, I may be a battering ram, but I can be a battering ram for Jesus!)  What I’ve noticed in discernment and uncertainty, though, is that I have a tendency, as many of us do, to try to usurp control (how very 8 of me) from God.  I spin into full-on planner mode, determined to think through the details of my future, when the very best that God has for me may not even be visible yet.

My spiritual director has invited me to ponder God’s faithfulness by asking me, “Think of the five greatest things in your life.  Which ones were you responsible for?  Now which ones did God provide?”  Indeed, as a person of faith, in spite of any Enneagram personality knowledge, I am committed to living the life that God has for me.  And I’ve realized that this involves abdicating my long-term planning role to God.  Ironically, uncertainty and long-term planning are two things that in my penchant to control, send me spiraling out of control, leading away from my strengths and gifts as a passionate 8 who leads with vision and conviction.

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My twin sister and I taking in the views of the dragon’s neck rice terraces in Guangxi.                Photo by Evan Schneider.

I’m not alone in these insights, though.  There are many, many people of faith who have begun to draw upon the Enneagram for wisdom not just about who we are, but who we are in God.  For me, I’ve started to see how unique it is that I love a good challenge and that I’m not afraid, and I’ve become even more convicted to strive toward the unique vocation (somewhere between anthropology and ministry) that God has for me, even though the world may not always understand that call.  8s are often known for being resilient and strong, and I realize now that this takes “guts.”  Even though I may lack for what I termed intuition, I am at my best when I’m relying on and hungering after God, throwing all of myself into that new challenge and adventure!

How has the Enneagram helped you live more fully into your purpose in God?  What lessons have you learned about God and faith by getting to know yourself better?

If you’d like to learn more about the Enneagram, I’d recommend listening to the Liturgists extensive podcast on all nine types,  reading a bit about each type and then taking the “Essential Enneagram” test by David Daniels and Virginia Price, which is really just a series of paragraphs that you read seeing which one best describes you.  I think this is the best way to discern your type, but the most important things are to 1) gain an appreciation for all types and 2) to take your time in discerning your type.

I also really like the Podcast, The Road Back to You, based on the book by Suzanne Stabile and Ian Morgan Cron, because it gives you an opportunity to listen to other people talking about their journeys in understanding themselves, others, and God through their types.

 

 

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Learning to hope again

“For in hope we were saved.  Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what is seen?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”  –Romans 8:24-25

A few months ago I began prepping a sermon on Romans 8, focusing on the two verses that come after these ones.  In fact, the part that comes next, about how “when we do not know how to pray, the Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26), is one of my favorite passages in the Bible.  I love silent prayer and contemplation, and so I began scribbling down all sorts of ideas as I was brainstorming to preach.  I don’t even remember what I wrote down at the time, but one of the ideas was something like, “God dares us to hope again after loss, pain, and fear.”

I put my notebook away, and I went onto write the sermon a day or so later, preach it, and presumably move on.

But still, that message about hope was calling me.  

In fact, months later, I’m still thinking about it.  What that passage and my reflections on hope began to reveal to me is that faithfulness in this season of life, especially with Lucia, has often involved letting go of our expectations in order to love her as she is and celebrate her life.  This has been such a good and Godly way of learning to love, and especially when we’ve often stood in the balance of not knowing when the next crisis will strike or when we may need to let go, it’s been a powerful and fruitful way to live.

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Holding Lucia on her first birthday.  Photo by Andrew Nurkin.

But I also realize now that as we’d let go of expectations and fully embraced the uncertainty of our lives together, we’d not been particularly welcome or wont to hope.

Indeed, a few months ago, another parent said something casual to me like, “I’m just so looking forward to when she can do X…”  Yet another chirped, “Don’t you just look forward to each stage?”  The statements were remarkable because I realized, not mournfully or proudly, but simply and practically, that I certainly didn’t have the same hopes for Lucia.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t have hopes.

Something has shifted over the past few months for me.  Perhaps it’s because Lucia’s joy–her smiles, her giggles, are so contagious that we can’t help but want for more.  Perhaps it is because we’ve begun to realize that there’s a certain faithfulness (where perhaps we once thought it mere naiveté or denial) to believing and looking forward and wanting more for your child even when the future (gosh, everyone’s future!) is always uncertain.  “Who hopes for what is seen?” Paul asks, and it dawns on me that all hope is outrageous and audacious and almost senseless.  It dawns on me that true hope, hope despite fear, loss, and pain, is the most outrageous of them all, but deeply, wildly, and decidedly faithful.

What’s striking to me in this season is that even as Lucia’s daily health challenges continue, I think God is inviting us to dream a bit, to hope a lot, to envision a great and glorious and good life, even if it’s completely uncertain, for our daughter with special needs.

This is a huge shift for me…and it’s a little scary.  

And it’s not the sermon I preached that Sunday.  In fact, to this day, I don’t know how God did that–helped me write a sermon for others even as God prepared a sermon just for me.  And I am wary, as I always am, too pensive and critical, because hope for many often takes the shape of bi-ped hubris, therapeutic progress, or medical cures for Lucia, and I feel distinctly called to inhabit this tension of living and loving her now, and yet loving and hoping for her tomorrow, too.

So I find hope in the home we are making for Lucia, in the thought of her making friends at school someday, touching so many lives as she does ours everyday, teaching others, reaching out for babies and friends and strangers, and having many more swims and smiles and heroic turns of her head toward the things and the people that she wants and cares for!  These are my small, perhaps tentative, but genuine, prayerful, and faithful hopes for my daughter.

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Our little light looking for the light on a recent walk around the neighborhood.  My photo.

We will always savor the present, but we find new hope in the future with God’s help.

 

 

Virtual coffee date

“I think I just love ideas,” I said to my husband dreamily the other evening after a particularly rousing conversation with a colleague.

It didn’t seem like much a revelation, but I may have mentioned that defending my Ph.D. last year has seemed to open up all this conceptual space with which to dream about vocation both in and outside of academia.  It’s been at once exhilarating and daunting.  There’s so much freedom that I’m almost paralyzed by it.

Halong Bay, Photos by Evan Schneider.
Halong Bay, Photo by Evan Schneider.

But to acknowledge and relish that I really get a kick out of talking about theories, ideas, and people is a small start.  And then the other day as I chatted with a colleague on the seminary campus who turned to go into her office, I turned to head back to the university campus, to my syllabi, articles, and ideas.  And I was so thrilled and so grateful to have that desk, that community, and those ideas.  I realized as scary as it is to admit, I’m not ready to give up on the academic job search yet.  I want to see it through a bit longer.  I want to continue to pursue these possibilities, because I have so much passion for the work I did with foster families and children with disabilities in China, for China itself, for students, and for anthropological knowledge and those ways of thinking.

Things seem positively turned upside down in my life right now and I have no idea what God is doing.  But I’m trying to learn (again) to be content with that– to embrace the thought that this not knowing about the future is not really so bad and that life is an adventure that is so much better when we let God lead.

The other morning I saw the sun for the first time in a long, long time, and some words from good ol’ Anne of Green Gables came to me as I happily thought, “Today is fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.”

Trying to live in that freshness, faithfulness, and fullness that God so generously provides.

Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi.  Photo by Evan Schneider.
Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi. Photo by Evan Schneider.

Have a good weekend.  What are you up to?

Faithful with this moment

 As 2015 has begun, I’ve been filled with this desire to be faithful to God.  But what does that mean?

As I’ve reflected on all the uncertainty in my own life and the world, I continue to struggle with trusting God with the future and what is beyond my knowing.  When I picture the future, my wildest dreams still sometimes tend toward anxiety, and I begin to worry, doubt, fear, and breed resentment.  I know these are not faithful feelings, and I worry that I’m just not cut out for this life of faith.

Awning and lights in Paris, France.  All photos by Evan Schneider.
Awning and lights in Paris, France. All photos by Evan Schneider.

But I’ve also realized something.  When my daughter cries, I turn without thinking to wrap her in my arms.  When a student in front of me needs counsel, I listen intently and reply with carefully chosen words.  When those around me are hurting or in need, I lift them up in prayer, and I strive to serve them.

When it comes to one moment, I think I can be faithful.  I can be faithful with this moment rather than fearful of what I do not know.  And suddenly faithfulness becomes not something unattainable or fleeting, but a daily practice of breathing and walking with the God of this moment.  

A couple days ago I found myself saying to a tearful student in my office,  “I know at this moment, you have no idea what decision you will make in the future and how you will make it.  But you are a capable person.  You are doing everything you can to gather all the information and be prepared to make a good decision.  Therefore, I trust and believe that you will make a good one when the time  comes.”

The River Seine at night.
The River Seine at night.

I love saying those words.  

I love letting others know that when the world and uncertainty fill them with doubt and fear, there is reason to trust otherwise.  I love believing in a God who is invested so deeply in our lives, in making us capable, faithful people, rather than leaving us to our own devices.  And I love knowing that faithfulness isn’t just about some lofty goal or distant future, but is the stuff of now, of taking care of this moment, with God never far away.

Now, if I could only listen to my own advice…