Ever since I began doing ministry nearly a decade and a half ago, I’ve wrestled with an ever-present tension; one that has always made me feel kinda lousy, being a pastor and all…
It is the realization that I don’t like people.
Now, that isn’t to say that I don’t love people as a whole, and don’t care deeply for them, I do. I even like them individually, too. However, I realized early on, that I have what you might call a public exposure expiration date; a set amount of time that I can be around lots of people until I shut down…way down. In fact, my days off usually involve as much time as possible not speaking, and as little time interacting with others as I can manage and still be socially acceptable.
Lots of my pastor friends and people in ministry are naturally wired to be in front of crowds. It energizes them, and they love being in the spotlight, adore being the center of attention. People assume that this is true for me as well, but in reality I’m a pretty private person, preferring to spend large blocks of time in solitude; writing, reading, walking, napping.
Oh, I love a microphone and a stage as much as the next diva, but I can’t be in the place for too long, or I start to get anxious and begin looking for the nearest exit. My past personality tests have underscored the truth that I have strong introvert leanings. “How can this be?”, I’ve asked myself, “I’m always around people.”
I’ve actually been pretty guilty about all of this. I mean, I’m a pastor. My job is to care for people. How can any self-respecting pastor and speaker have such a pull to privacy. I’ve often wondered if I am in the wrong vocation, or if I need to change and adapt my personality.
(True, I know that in the Gospels, Jesus often withdraws to solitary places to pray and get away, but I imagine he’d still leave his cell phone on and still answer texts.)
The other day as I was driving home, I caught the middle of a radio interview with some well-known author, whose name I missed. The host was talking about the great recognition she’s received later in life (in her seventies), and all the promotion and attention she’s been immersed in currently.
Then, referring to a reputation the author apparently has for not liking people, he expressed surprise at her ability to be around so many as part of her job, and marveled at the possible reality that she didn’t actually hate humanity.
She responded with these words about herself: “I’m naturally a recluse, but I’m also a bit of a ham… I’m a hermit ham!”
Finally someone did it. Finally someone put words to the previously unexpressed. Someone actually captured, in two oddly combined words, exactly who I am, with stunning clarity.
And as I embraced my newly received identity, I realized that tons of people in public leadership, and those who spend a good bit of time on stages or platforms or under lights, are hermit hams too. Many speakers, musicians, artists, and ministers have a desire to connect deeply with people corporately, and an ability to, for better or worse, perform in the role of focal point, for a time.
Yet it is their incessant and passionate desire to be away from the crowd, and to move deeply into the hidden places, which enables such people to find the valuable things they are then able to boldly share with the world. The gift of the Hermit Ham, is not only in an ability to communicate, but to have something worth communicating.
So to all my fellow Hermit Hams out there, especially those in ministry and leadership: Be encouraged. You are exactly who you are wired to be.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some alone time.
