The office door is shut, the blinds are closed, headphones are in place, and no one should dare to disturb me. I don’t have time for your issues. I’m an efficient administrator whose tasks are more important than our potential conversation.

I’m openly introverted. You know it, so get the hint: I don’t want to talk to you. When you see me outside my office, understand that I’m far too busy getting things ready for Sunday to make time for whatever is on your mind. After all, who needs relationships with people? You do your thing, and let me do my thing.

Man, what a bad attitude for someone whose job exists for people, right?

As I was sitting in my former pastor’s office one day, he asked me what my biggest weakness was. Eluding eye contact, I told him, “I hate people.” This accompanied one of my many speeches about why I preferred to avoid some people because of their attitudes, motives and mannerisms.

He quickly pointed out that loving people is imperative for pastors. I didn’t care. I went about my normal routine and neglected people.

few things are more personally rewarding or eternally significant than loving people with Christlike affection.

One Sunday as we were on our way to church, I looked at my wife and told her that I felt no one cared about us at our current church. Refusing to consider that perhaps I was the problem, I decided to play a game. I purposely didn’t say a word to anyone on Sunday. I wanted to see who struck up a conversation with me.

No one did. They walked past me. I walked past them. Pfft, I knew it, I internally muttered. No one wants to talk to me anyway.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into a couple of years, and my attitude grew worse. I worked hard and efficiently. I communicated well when I needed to communicate. I boasted about being introverted, hoping it provided an excuse and explanation to others that I was born this way and didn’t desire companionship. I almost convinced myself, but as I floated on a spiritual island, I realized I was drifting toward the shore of ministry burnout.

I’m happy to report that I’m no longer that guy. It wasn’t easy, but I have developed a genuine love for people. God led me to take four steps of faith that transformed my life, heart and ministry. 

I Entered a Life-Giving Atmosphere
It was time for a change. I gave a good breakup speech: “It’s not you, it’s me.” My wife and I left the church we had served for three years, sensing we needed a fresh start.

We felt God moving us to serve under a specific leader. We visited the church one Sunday and felt something different in the air. It was a life-giving church. We packed our belongings and moved to an unfamiliar city, leaving behind our ministry positions to take on jobs in the secular workforce.

Being in a life-giving atmosphere with a healthy church organically began to heal me. I saw joy on people’s faces for the first time in a while. I encountered new people on a weekly basis. For the first time in a while, I saw people accepting Christ. I felt alive again because I was in a life-giving church. 

I Talked and Shook Hands after Services
I was getting spiritually healthy, and church was fun again. However, I was still the guy hiding in the back before and after service.

On one of my first Sundays at our new church, my pastor challenged me to go into the lobby to interact with people. Believe it or not, this was one of the biggest steps toward allowing God to change my heart.

At first it was awkward; you could say it was an introvert’s worst nightmare. But, after a few months it became second nature. It forced me to interact and make small talk with people. That small talk gradually led to a few longer talks. Those longer talks eventually led to friendships.

To this day, I look forward to talking in between services. In some cases, I’ll even miss the first worship song because I’m outside interacting with people. 

I Spent Time in People’s Homes — and I Listened
After a year of working in the marketplace, I accepted a ministry position. I did something I had never done at my previous church: I got to know the people. I realized I had previously been so busy doing church work that I didn’t see the need to connect with people. I had functioned as the admin and systems guy, letting the lead pastor worry about the people.

I knew this time needed to be different. My job was to lead our team leaders, so for the first three months, most of my week involved one-on-one interaction with people, getting to know them. We met in restaurants and, in some cases, their homes. I sat and listened to their stories, testimonies and ideas. We laughed and prayed together, and before I knew it, we all felt close.

Those relationships have only grown stronger over time. 

I Made Friends
Beyond serving people, I realized I needed something else: friends. My former isolation had convinced me that I disliked people and didn’t need them. This time around, I became intentional about meeting new people, most of whom were new attendees in our church.

For the first time in ministry, I had friends. If being in a life-giving church makes you feel alive and energetic, then having friends makes you enjoy people more.

The more I’m around my friends, the more I’m changing my heart and perspective regarding others. You want to know what I’ve noticed? It started with one friendship and grew from there. One friendship turned into five, and now on my calendar almost weekly there’s a large red box on Friday that says, “Fun with friends.”

Every one of these actions took a step of faith. I had been on the verge of burnout as personal insecurities led me to avoid of people. I knew that if I didn’t change, my ministry calling and career were over.

A life-giving church atmosphere helped me become spiritually healthy for the first time in a while. Shaking hands and making small talk helped break the ice, but investing in others’ lives opened my heart and allowed me to love people and experience the joy of Christian fellowship.

The old Matt thought that time spent with people was time wasted because I had church administration and systems to run. And while I still have those responsibilities, I’ve learned to schedule time for others. Along the way, I’ve discovered that few things are more personally rewarding or eternally significant than loving people with Christlike affection.

“But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).

It may sound cliché, but if I can learn to do it, you can, too.