I admit it. I fall into the trap of click-bait. And the algorithms know it.
In my list of articles on Google, I must have 4-5 in the realm of “______ People Exhibit these ___ Behaviors According to Psychology”. These articles fascinate me. Sometimes I want to know if I exhibit the behaviors that make me a (blank), and sometimes I want to see if I’m right about someone else being a (blank).
I just checked my Google feed on my phone. Here are the relevant headlines: “People who become distant from others as they get older usually display these 8 subtle behaviors,” “If a man’s attraction to you has faded, he’ll often display these 8 subtle behaviors,” “People who Felt Constantly Criticized as Children Usually Develop These 13 Traits as Adults,” “If you recognize these 8 signs, you’re a wonderful person to be with,” “People who are at peace with themselves in their 70s and beyond usually display these 8 subtle behaviors,” “9 subtle signs you’re a master at reading people, according to psychology”.
You get the idea. These articles claim to have keys to behavior and what that reveals about us. This is very enticing!
As someone who has always felt on the outside looking in, I want this secret knowledge. I don’t get people. I don’t really understand how other people know what they know. In my heart there is this desire to find the key that will unlock relationships for me. I very often feel like I was absent the day they taught interpersonal communication. I just don’t seem to see the world the way everyone else does.
It is probably no surprise that when I watch The Chosen, I relate to Matthew a lot. For those who don’t know, The Chosen is a television show based on the Gospels. We follow Jesus and His disciples and some of the backstories are plausibly filled in. One of those fictional backstories is the idea that Matthew, the tax collector turned disciple, is autistic and is therefore navigating the difficult Jewish 1st Century culture and religious life as an outsider. When we first meet him, he knows he is an outcast, but he doesn’t understand why. He made a choice of career because he had an ability with math, and it gave him security, stability, and financial independence. Yet, his fellow Jews hate him for it. When he is called by Jesus, he is compelled to follow, but finds that the other disciples are not welcoming to him. He has trouble reconciling what he hears from Jesus and what he experiences in the world. I get that. I find myself wondering if I’m autistic somehow. I wonder if that would explain the disconnect I feel in life. Maybe that’s why I don’t have long-lasting friendships. Maybe that’s why I’m still single. Maybe I’m unable to read the social cues that are so obvious to everyone else, and so people are tired of making allowances for me. Could I be autistic?
Then there is the possibility of a personality disorder. I don’t know what most of these are, but I occasionally hear of one and wonder if it describes me. I wonder if I’m a borderline personality which will apparently mean that I can’t feel what others do and the disconnect is because I’ve been faking emotions that I will never really experience. I wonder if it’s genetic. Did I even have a chance to be “normal”?
When my brother graduated from high school, our dad took him on a trip. Dad had a business trip to Puerto Rico, so Mark got to go along as a graduation gift. When they got home from the trip, Mark told the most heartbreaking stories about Dad. You see, Dad was an officer in this organization. He was well-respected, but he didn’t belong. Mark described it as he was always a step behind and on the outside of the group. Yes, they respected him, but no one seemed to like him.
The idea of Dad as a respected outsider was reinforced when he retired. His staff threw him a retirement party. I was away at school when this happened, but I remember my sister telling me about it. The most telling thing was the marquee outside the banquet hall. There were other retirement parties going on at the same time, and the marquee listed them with congratulations. The sign said something like, “Congrats Johnny! Congrats Joan! Congratulations Mr. S. N. Vickery!” There was no, “Congrats Sam!” He was referred to as Mr. S. N. Vickery, respectful but distant.
As I listened to the stories about Dad, I remember thinking, “That’s me.” People respect me. I’m smart, and I can do things for them. But they don’t really like me. I always feel like I’m on the outside looking in. It’s exhausting. Eventually, I just stopped believing that anyone wanted me around. Get invited and then ignored for 50 years and you’ll feel like that, too. Get the look of death when you say something no one expected you to say, and you’ll clam up. Invite people to your home only to have them either not show up or show up angry that they have to come to your home, and you’ll stop inviting people.
I could deal with this, I think, if I understood why. That’s what is enticing about those Google posts. Maybe, just maybe I’ll have the answer to what is going on. Maybe I’ll figure out that this one subtle behavior is why people hate me. Maybe I’ll understand why no one wants me around. Maybe I’ll finally see what makes people mad or uncomfortable. In my desperation, I click on the Google article, hoping that I’ll finally understand.
As good click-bait, though, the articles never deliver. They all say vague things that really don’t explain anything. They contradict themselves. They end up saying things like “smiling makes other people happy,” or “being mean is a turn-off.” Wow! What groundbreaking insight!
When I search my heart, I know that I want to find a key in these articles because if I have a psychiatric problem then the issue isn’t my fault. I can blame my troubles on my psychology. I want the disconnect to be because people don’t understand my disability.
What’s the reality? Sin. Pure and simple, it’s sin.
First, it’s my sin. I think I am, or I want to be, the most important person in the room. If I’m getting attention, even negative attention, then everyone is focused on me. It’s a prideful crutch to believe that everyone is talking about me, plotting against me, finding ways to hurt me. My paranoia is a symptom of my sinful pride. This is not some genetic disorder that I cannot control. This is pure self-centeredness. I struggle with thinking about myself too much!
Years ago I went to a biblical counselor to help cope with depression. She addressed this very issue and admitted to the struggle herself. She told the story of an interaction with her boss. Apparently, her boss tended to be a grumpy man, and she took it personally. She thought he was always angry with her. One day she approached him and said, “It seems that you are angry with me. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and I’d like to make it right.” He turned and stared at her. After a bit he finally replied, “How presumptuous of you to assume that my bad mood has everything to do with you!” Wow! That statement put her in her place, and it put me in mine. I have thought about that story many times over the years. Why do I assume when people are short with me, when they ignore me, when they are angry, or when they cut me off that it has to do with me? Why don’t I assume that they are going through something? Why don’t I take the opportunity to genuinely pray for that person and whatever they are going through? It takes discipline to stop myself in a spiral. If this person does not address a sin I’ve committed, especially against her, then I should not assume that I’ve done anything wrong. It is prideful to assume that it is my fault. If I do need to repent of a sin, then yes, do that, and strive for restoration. If I have not sinned, then my duty is to pray for whatever is going on.
Constantly stressing over what people are thinking and saying about me in private is prideful and destructive. I don’t need to look for a reason I’m making them mad. I need to check my heart, repent for anything sinful, and pray for the situation.
For me, I know that some of this comes from a pre-Jesus personality that was deliberately mean. I made it a habit to lash out and hurt others before they could hurt me. By spiraling into the “what if I’m doing that again” hole of despair, I am denying that Christ has any power in my life. I have been saved by Him. I have been declared righteous by God Himself. I have the Holy Spirit living in me. I have the Counselor to convict me when I sin. Why don’t I trust that He will do that? Why do I almost constantly think that maybe I have sinned, and I just don’t realize it? Why do I believe that the Holy Spirit is lazy or slacking on His job? That’s what I’m doing. I am saying, loud and clear, that I don’t think God has enough power to see all my sin. Maybe He missed some, so others need to tell me. Now, granted, I may not be listening well to His conviction, but if I pray for Him to search my heart, I have to trust that He will reveal what I need to know. What this behavior reveals is that I care less about how God convicts than I do about how others see me.
Relationships are difficult. Sinful people make relationships more difficult than they need to be. What gets reflected, though, through our interactions with others is the depth of our time alone…with Jesus. Have I asked Him to reveal my heart? Have I sought the conviction of the Holy Spirit? Do I trust that He has made me a new creation? Do I trust His power to sanctify me? When I am hurt, or on edge, or wonder what others are thinking, have I brought that to Jesus to process, or have I chosen my own understanding and the ramblings of men in psychology text books, or worse yet, Google articles? Who do I trust to define who I am?
Jesus says that I am a daughter of the Most High – I am chosen, royal, holy, and His possession. Why does it bother me so much when others don’t recognize that? How is that revealing my pride?