I spent nearly the entire month of January this year preparing for, and then participating in, a workshop for women in church leadership in Dallas, Texas. The workshop (to be led by Suzanne Stabile) was on the Enneagram, a tool for self-understanding and spiritual growth. (It's a dicey thing, trying to understand the personalities of others. Best to concentrate on the person whose spiritual growth you can actually do something about.)
This means I spent about a month reading and re-reading a book, "The Road Back to You" by Suzanne Stabile and Ian Kron, and trying to figure out my number.
What was my number?
There are online tests you can take to determine your Enneagram number. But it's not recommended that you rely exclusively on those. (I'd taken a test, maybe three years ago, and found out I was a 2 with a 3 wing, but done absolutely nothing about it, and couldn't even have given you a clue as to what that meant.) It's recommended that you read extensively about all the numbers, and that you listen carefully to see what resonates with you. And by "resonates," they mean something along the lines of "convicts" you (in that old-time-religion way). "Skewers" might be too strong. Might not. But it is acknowledged that your number will probably make you cringe, because the Enneagram reveals our motivations in the form of the childhood wounds that shape our personalities, wounds to which we are still responding, and around which we are still organizing ourselves.
To give you a sense of what those childhood wounds are, and why this work feels so important, here are brief descriptions (courtesy of Ms. Stabile and RevGal JS). As a child you may have learned...
It's not okay to make mistakes.
It's not okay to have needs.
It's not okay to have your own feelings or your own identity.
It's not okay to be too functional or too happy.
It's not okay to be comfortable in the world.
It's not okay to trust yourself.
It's not okay to depend on anybody for anything.
It's not okay to be vulnerable, or to trust anybody.
It's not okay to assert yourself.
Each of us carries one of these wounds around with us, and we respond to life through the lens that wound provides us.
What was my number??
I'll admit it: I had a rough month. I found myself very invested in knowing my number before the workshop, and when I hadn't really narrowed it down to my satisfaction, I felt like I'd failed. (A very 3-ish thing--3 is "the achiever"). But it wasn't just about the workshop. I kept thinking about those wounds, and as I did, scenes from my childhood came up... things I was remembering for the first time. To be clear: it wasn't Dickens. I had a good childhood with parents who were both good and human. But... there's a reason they call them wounds. And in the face of those scenes. and reflecting on the nature of my own wound, I kept thinking about my relationships. I thought about my relationship with my partner (who actually watched this whole process with, first, amusement, and then, a little bit of alarm... I was obsessed, and she got worried). I thought about my relationships with my children (had my childhood wound limited my ability to be a good mother? Had I inflicted wounds on them? Yeah, probably.). I thought about my relationship with my congregation, both the entire community and at the individual level (am I authentic with them? am I anxious with them?).
This all felt very important, as if I were on the verge of some discovery that could be the key to my truly being a better person in all these relationships. I love my partner and my kids... I so want to be my best self with them and for them. Pastors who don't have sufficient self-awareness can be incredibly destructive in congregations. I don't want to be that pastor; I want to help the congregation and its individual members to thrive.
What was my NUMBER?
Once in Dallas, through intensive teaching sessions with Suzanne, and conversations with my pal and roommate (I'm looking at you, KC), and the many other women attending, I finally arrived at my number. (Guess what? I'm a 2 with a big ol' 3 wing. That is, the Helper, with a side of Achiever/ Performer.)
Now that I know my number, what difference does it make? For me, it's chiefly about noticing. At different points in my journey as a pastor, I've been given opportunities to notice my own responses and reactions, and to ask myself what was going on inside me as different conversations, interactions, scenes played out. Now I am noticing when the particular motivation of the "helper" nudges me in one direction or another. I am noticing how I do when I'm reasonably well, happy, and rested, and I'm noticing how I do when I'm in a bad mood, or haven't had enough sleep, or am recovering from the flu (as has been the case this past few weeks). I'm noticing the distress it caused me when I had to miss two Sundays (and a Wednesday in between!) when I was sick (the Helper wants to know: will they still love me?). And I'm noticing when my helping self seems to spring from the best, as well as the less-than-best, of myself.
And noticing means I have an opportunity to understand myself, and an opportunity the next time to change my behavior, or to lean into it, or to simply be.
It sounds like a small thing. It's not. This is the beginning of work I will be doing the rest of my life. I am so grateful I had the opportunity to begin.
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| What a journey! Labyrinth courtesy of a beloved member of STA's congregation. |
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