Akeem was a classmate of mine in graduate school. It was his first time in America, and the first time he had ever been outside his African homeland. His language skills were perfect, his academic prowess was enviable, and his ability to connect with people and make friends was remarkable.
For the first few weeks he was excited about his new adventure, but he soon became homesick. For several weeks, his energy seemed to slide toward depression. It was subtle, but he hadn’t heard from family or friends since arriving. (This was in the mid-1970s, before email and instant communication.)
But one day, he danced into the classroom with a large bag and a huge smile. He had finally received a box from home, filled with notes and treats from family and friends. The bag contained his favorite snack, which he wanted to share with his fellow students. Inside were about one hundred fried black beetles, each about two inches long. His mother had prepared this crunchy delicacy for him, and he ate them like potato chips.
We were excited for him, but he got to eat all one hundred by himself.
We thought he was crazy and couldn’t imagine how someone could eat big, black bugs. But he often commented on American cultural issues that he couldn’t understand. For instance, it was hard for him to comprehend Americans growing and mowing a lawn. “In our country,” he said, “we don’t have enough water to grow food. Here, you plant an entire yard, water it and care for it, then you harvest it . . . and throw it away. I don’t understand!”
Good point. We take our culture for granted and assume that it’s right. We see how other people live and think they would be much happier if they lived the way we do. But it’s really not a matter of right and wrong; it’s just different. It’s away from our set point, so it makes us uncomfortable.
It’s not just our tastes that are different; we’re unique as well. We’re most comfortable with our own set point. We assume that everybody else would be more comfortable if they were just like us and did things our way.
Extroverts assume that introverts would be happier if they were more outgoing. Introverts think that extroverts need to calm down and be more reflective. Who’s right?
Donna and Phil love their friends but subconsciously think they could all use a little “touching up”:
We have our set point where we’re the most comfortable, so it’s natural to assume that others will be comfortable there, too.
But other people are thinking the same thing about us.
Different by Design
We’re all different, and it’s not a mistake. God never intended for everyone to be the same, even though it might seem to be more comfortable. Just as there is variety in nature, there is variety in people.
Relational pain doesn’t usually come from the areas where we are alike, but from those areas where we differ.
Imagine going to an orchestra concert and finding that the only instruments being played were violins. No brass, no percussion, no woodwinds—only violins. While a violin can produce a mesmerizing sound, we would quickly grow tired of a concert with no other instruments.
The reason we enjoy a concert is the variety of sounds that blend together. As a group, an orchestra produces a combined sound that no individual instrument can make. But in that process, you can still hear the individual instruments. It’s unity in diversity; it’s difference by design.
The people in our lives are like an orchestra. They’re all unique, and together they provide richness to the music of our lives. Some of those people seem crazy, while others bring energy. Each makes their own “sound” and they blend together to create a symphony.
Crazy people are like a tuba gone wild. They ignore the sheet music and begin playing their own tune, overpowering the rest of the orchestra. All we can focus on is the loud, brassy tuba, and it ruins the concert for us. How can we control the tuba?
We’ll talk about that in future chapters. There’s one basic principle that applies, though: the tuba will always be a tuba. We can’t change it into a flute; we have to deal with it as a tuba.
When dealing with crazy people, we can’t change their temperament. Whether we like it or not, it’s who they are. If we try to turn them into something they’re not, we’ll only be frustrated.
We can influence other people’s behaviors and choices, but we can’t change their temperament. “Can a leopard change its spots?” (Jer. 13:23). The obvious answer is “no.” Asking an introvert to become an extrovert is like asking a golden retriever to become a spider monkey. It might seem like a good idea, but it’s not going to happen.
Donna and Phil’s friend Sarah will always be quiet, so they can seek creative ways to discover her deeper thoughts—perhaps through a relaxed lunch or a series of emails. Tom can learn to worry less, but he will always have the sensitive, analytical personality that looks at all the details of every situation. Barry and Linda will always be outgoing socialites, but they could be influenced to learn ways of reading the reactions of people they encounter.
When we try to influence others, we need to focus on their actions and attitudes, not their temperaments.
Heal Thyself
We can’t change the way other people are wired. But it’s important to accept the way we’re wired as well. We can change our behavior and our attitudes, but our wiring is part of our DNA.
I remember reading a study years ago in which a hundred Hollywood celebrities were asked one question: “If you could change anything about yourself (height, looks, personality), would you do it?” The response was unanimous; all one hundred said yes.
These are the “perfect” people whom everyone wants to be like. We assume that if we could look like them and be like them, our lives would be perfect. But every one of them wanted to make a change.
Healthy relationships are based on truth. If we’re going to be successful in dealing with the crazy people in our lives, we have to start by dealing with ourselves. We have to recognize the difference between things we can change about ourselves and things we can’t. If we can change something, we need to act. If we can’t change something, we need to accept it.
The High Cost of Forced Change
In 1999, Gallup researchers Buckingham and Coffman studied how corporate managers developed their people. The traditional view was to test employees to discover their areas of strength and weakness, then provide training in their areas of weakness to bring them up to speed. A lot of energy and dollars were spent over the years trying to make people equally competent.
They found one major problem with training people to overcome their weaknesses: it didn’t work. They might be able to function better, but they never excelled in all areas as a result. Their research revealed that everyone has unique strengths that are hardwired into them, and other areas that are hardwired out of them. The reason people were weak in certain areas wasn’t because they hadn’t been trained; it was because those strengths simply weren’t part of their temperament. You can train them all you want, but their weaknesses will never become strengths.
The outcome of this study was simple and logical, but dramatic. It led to a three-step approach to management:
In other words, let people be who they are instead of turning them into identical copies of each other.
Making It Personal
The place to start in managing our relationships is to recognize and accept each person’s uniqueness. We’ll need to decide how to handle their actions and influence their behavior, but it has to be in the context of how they’re wired.
The greater challenge is to celebrate our own uniqueness. Like the Hollywood celebrities, we all have areas we’d like to change. We can do something about certain areas (our attitudes, our choices, our habits). But we can’t change our temperament. It’s hardwired inside of us and is part of the design for our lives. When we focus on changing the unchangeable, we’re inviting frustration and disappointment to rule our lives.
Let’s say we have a conversation with someone, and he starts presenting his point of view in a quick, logical sequence. It bugs us that we always think of the perfect response a half hour after the conversation has ended. We think, I wish I could think of what to say during the conversation so I could respond logically and forcefully. I always feel like he’s going to win every argument, no matter what.
I struggled with that for years. I never seemed to know how to respond while the conversation was taking place. I would avoid confrontational situations because I knew I was going to feel backed into a corner. I always wished I could change to be more aggressive and clear-thinking in the moment.
But I realized that I’m not wired that way and never will be. As an introvert, I’m what is called an “internal processor.” I take information in during a conversation, process what I’ve heard when I’m by myself, and respond clearly later.
Most introverts are like that. We listen carefully to what’s being said, then ponder it for a while. It takes longer to formulate our responses, but those responses are usually well thought out and reflect deep thinking.
Here’s how I’ve learned to respond: “OK, I’m listening. I’m with you. You’re making some really interesting points, and I need some time to think through what you’ve said before I respond. Let me take a couple of days and get back with you. You deserve a thoughtful response, and I want to do that. I’ll jot down some of my ideas and send you an email. Then, let’s talk again.”
This lets me operate from a position of strength, not weakness. I don’t need to feel frustrated because I can’t think quickly in a conversation. My strength is thoughtful reflection, which is probably an area of weakness for another person. When I accept that part of my temperament, I can utilize it to manage my craziest relationships without being intimidated. It doesn’t mean the other person is going to change. It simply means that I don’t have to feel defeated because of his uniqueness.
Fully accepting our own temperaments and the uniqueness of others can minimize the impact of drama in our lives.
Tips for Temperaments
Learning to accept everyone’s uniqueness (including our own) doesn’t mean they won’t bring craziness into our lives, or that we have to agree with them or overlook their behavior. It simply means we start from an honest foundation. Once we’re able to accept the way a person is hardwired, we’re free to make healthy decisions about how to interact with them.
Here are some basic principles to keep in mind during the process:
“So, why can’t everyone be like me?” Because they’re not us, and we’re not them. We’re individually crafted and unique. Hope for healing in crazy relationships begins with understanding ourselves and others, doing what we can to influence, and accepting the things that aren’t changeable. As Reinhold Neibuhr prayed, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.”[5]