The Lord Who Loves Me, A Quiet Person
“You’re too quiet. You should speak up and make your presence known.”
These words from a former boss stung me. I had recently been hired at the magazine and had been attending press events and other informal meetings as their representative.
When I am with family or close friends, I can be rather rambunctious. I’m often the one cracking jokes, noticing if peoples’ plates were empty, and having conversations about anything under the sun.
But when I am alone in a room full of strangers, my natural tendency is to scoop up a drink, nibble on some food, and stand in a corner to observe everyone around me. (Human behaviour is fascinating; try this sometime.)
My former boss’ words made me feel ashamed of my personality trait. It seemed as if being quiet or introverted, and displaying attributes that made others think I was “too quiet,” was shameful.
This notion that quietness is embarrassing or undesirable lingered with me long after I left the magazine—and moving to a different country a few years ago compounded my struggle with being labelled as such.
Searching for myself in a new land
I am a Chinese woman who was born and raised in Singapore. Now I live, work, and play on the unceded traditional territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tseil-Waututh Nations. It is otherwise known as Vancouver, Canada.
At the beginning of my time here, everything felt new and exciting, and there were lots of beautiful places to explore, like snowboarding down Whistler Blackcomb mountain and traipsing across a suspension bridge at Lynn Canyon.
Time passed, and there were countless moments where I sought God for His guidance and direction on why He had brought me here in this place and time. It felt like I was frequently on the outside looking in, whether in social interactions or in more professional settings. And it felt like my reserved nature was inferred to mean passivity (when that was pretty far from the truth!).
When I entered theological school to pursue a Master’s in Christian Studies here, speaking up and sharing my thoughts in class was horrifically intimidating. My North American classmates sounded so polished and articulate, while I was always frantically scrambling to say something that hopefully sounded intelligent and meaningful. I much preferred to be quiet in most of my classes and to write my thoughts out rather than verbalize them.
But God moved (and continues to move).
In my second year, God led me to join the student council, where I was active in welcoming new students during the pandemic. An opportunity to be part of a virtual panel on faith and mental health also opened up and gave me a chance to share my story with fellow students.
This was something that I would never have imagined myself doing when I first embarked on my Master’s. What I came to realize, too, was that my underlying motives for participating in them was not because I wanted to prove others wrong and show people that I wasn’t as quiet as they thought. (The temptation to do so was very strong, though.)
I believe, with quiet conviction, that God heard the silent cries of my heart and opened up ways for me to recognize that my quietness was a strength. I grew to understand that He saw, knew, and loved me fully even if others did not. It was only from this point of right relationship with God and with myself that I was able to enter into healthy and Spirit-filled interactions with others and be confident and assured in my quietness.
One of my most foundational experiences during my Master’s program was a course on contemplative listening by Dr. Susan Phillips, who is a spiritual director, sociologist, and executive director at New College Berkeley. In her class, being quiet was not seen as shameful one bit. “Quiet” was not a word that was used to humiliate. Rather, to be quiet before God was something that we all collectively desired and yearned for.
The beauty of being quiet in His eyes
Being quiet, in the eyes of God, is something to welcome and celebrate in the Christian life. And while societal pressures to re-invent myself and make myself become more extroverted or engaging continue to persist, I have grown increasingly appreciative and grateful to be who God has made me to be: A person who listens and empathizes deeply.
“If you have ever been ignored or dismissed for being quiet or felt excluded from certain spaces for being “too quiet,” my heartfelt hope is for the Lord to assure you that your quietness is not “too” anything.”
Being quiet allows me to do that. It generates hospitality toward God and others. It reminds me that I am not the master of my own destiny. It humbles me because I don’t have to be the centre of attention all the time. What I can do—and love doing—is encourage space for honest, vulnerable conversations in a world that regularly discourages us from doing so.
If you have ever been ignored or dismissed for being quiet or felt excluded from certain spaces for being “too quiet,” my heartfelt hope is for the Lord to assure you that your quietness is not “too” anything. I pray that He will help you see your quietness as a gift from God that reflects His grace and glory as you walk ever closer with Him each day. I pray for continued transformation into Christ-likeness as you seek Him and journey with Him in every high and low, knowing that He is always for you and never against you.
I wonder if people saw Jesus as a quiet person and what He thought about it. I have a hunch He would’ve said “Thank you.”
