Can Everyone Shut Up About the Enneagram Already?

For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

 

The cult of the enneagram is alive and well in my heart. I’m writing this more telling myself to stop constantly bringing up this theory of personality than scolding others. In this case, I’m “that guy.” But I think I need to rethink about the Enneagram instead of shelving it entirely because we are all getting tired of it.

Let me explain.


My first “holy crap, this explains my entire life” moment was when I first read the Highly Sensitive Person self-help book. Elaine Aron cracked this code of describing approximately 20% of the human population. A 10,000 foot description of these folks (yours truly) are that they, unsurprisingly, are highly sensitive. But not just in the type 2 or type 4 emotional way.

It is sensitivity to lights, sounds, stimulation, smells. It is an inclination to really, truly, biologically need to introvert away from the hustle and bustle of contemporary life. It is, in more enneagram-y language, a deep sense of shame for having such deep feelings.

Before this knowledge, before this insight, I was lost. Trapped in a state of constantly contemplating and feeling and dwelling on big feelings and big thoughts. Making friends was near impossible. Extracurriculars were rare. Video gaming for hours a day was a refuge. The ultimate escape dawned on me more than once.

Yet somehow I knew the Father understood. Somehow I knew Jesus loved me. Somehow I knew the Spirit wanted me to stick around even when I didn’t.


I thought I was a type 6 for a year. I kinda feel really dumb for mistyping. I’m more Eeyore-y than Eeyore. I was dead quiet during adolescence except for Bible class where I didn’t know how to be quiet. My parents called me Charlie Brown (cartoon patron saint of 4s) when I was little. I’m not kidding.

But I resonated with the fear of the 6. And I connected with not trusting myself or my own judgment. I thought because 6s were brave and fearful, strong and weak, wise and foolish, that that proved I was the type. Ironically, this initial mistyping with 6 has made it easier to empathize with the plight of the 6 even though I’m definitely a 4.

I think this is a better way to understand yourself and your number and other people and their numbers then what I still keep on doing years into knowing this stuff.

For awhile, I focused too much on explaining away, usually in a dismissive way, why people around me did what they did. For example, I assumed my best friend rarely disclosed his feelings and often is content in silence based on my assumption of his number as opposed to asking him why directly. More explicit profiling; I assumed my sister took charge on vacations and often looked to argue about something because of her type instead of asking her directly why.

The common thread is I assigned a reasoning for the behavior of those around me based on their number rather than asking them directly and with candor.

This isn’t what the Enneagram is for. It is intended to increase knowledge about yourself and “the story you’re living into” as Ian Cron would say while also increasing compassion for others based not on your assumption of their number but on the questions and experiences you inquire about them.

The distinction is subtle but still drastic. Telling a friend they are chill and low key because they are a 9 is much less mature and encouraging than telling them their presence matters and asking them why they think that it doesn’t.

Instead of a posture of labels, and therefore a desire for control of comprehending others, we ought to have a posture of understanding, therefore letting go of our need to control how we experience others.


I’m surprised the Enneagram became so popular with Christians. Historically, it’s not very WASP-y (White Anglo Saxon Protestant). It looks a lot like a pentagram. And it seems to indicate that people don’t just sin because they’re bad but more because they are hurt and confused.

Regardless, I’m glad it took off. It’s torn the roof off of my self-loathing. Its told me I’m more than what I’m feeling. And it’s consistently said “seriously?!?” when I assume nobody likes me when there’s not an iota of evidence for that claim.

But where do we stop? When are we done learning from it? And what should we talk about when we talk about it?


First answer; I’m not sure if we ever should stop. The fad will die and a cooler personality system will steal its thunder, but if learning more and more about it helps you be a better version of yourself, it seems silly to stop even if everyone is sick of it.

Second, again, I doubt we will stop learning from it. It always finds ways to teach you more about who you think you are versus who you actually are. Humans are complicated. And prone to error. Further, it seems life progresses for most of us in a pattern of three steps forward and two steps back OR two steps forward and one step back. Put simply, we learn, change, and grow slowly. We can’t expect to progress in any aspect of life at such a rapid pace and the same applies with this theory of personality.

Last, when we talk about the Enneagram, we should talk about ourselves. The theory doesn’t contend that there’s nine kinds of people. It contends there are nine stories people tell themselves about who they are, and since we all have different circumstances, that explains grave differences even between people of the same number. It stands to reason, then, that we should never assume anything about anyone because of their “number,” particularly if they aren’t sure of their number. Writing this convicts the crap out of me. Even if I’ve listened to a billion podcasts and read a million books, I don’t know someone because they are “like a type 3 I know” or, worse, a “type 1 I don’t like.”

Everyone is unique. All of us have a different story to tell. We might find nine categories that repeat, but even in those repeating stories will likely come a ton of variation. Therefore, let’s use a tool for what a tool is used for. Since this tool has to do with personality, let us use it to find out who we really are. And let’s stop pretending like we know who others are simply because we know (or assume we know) their number.