A Good Book With A Terrible Name

I borrowed (or, rather, was lent) a book on personality types (the study of which, I've learned, is called "personology"). It's by David Keirsey, who is known for his temperament sorter, which is both a simplification of the Myers-Briggs type index and an extension of it. You can see his website here. Unfortunately, while he is a good writer and a brilliant personologist (hard to say that without giggling), he appears to have acquired his aesthetic taste for web design from myspace, thankfully without the background that doesn't move as you scroll the page, which is, while we're on the topic, officially the worst legal and quasi-ethical use of the internet since Al Gore invented it. Oh well.

The book is called "Please Understand Me II". Without bothering to look it up, I can surmise from the title that the original (it's not clear if it was just "Please Understand Me" or if, intended to be part of a series of revisions from day one, it was presciently labeled "Please Understand Me I") that it was probably published in the 70's or maybe the 80's. It may be the worst title of any book I've ever opened.

But it's fascinating inside. Here's the thing that has grabbed me the most so far: my motives are relatively altruistic. I want to do what's right, and I want what's best for the people around me. I miss the mark sometimes, but that's the mark I'm aiming for.

I had figured that everyone more or less operated on those same principles, but sometimes people became confused or had odd ideas about what was actually good. But I always believed that if you gave someone enough chances, gave them the benefit of the doubt, and encouraged them to do and be their best, they would get there eventually.

Well, it turns out that not everyone works that way.

I guess I should have known that by now. But it leaves me in a difficult position: how do you believe the best about people knowing that their best, as they understand it and pursue it, may not turn out to be something worth believing in? Or how do you live without believing in the potential of the people around you?

I'm not sure I like either option much.

And then the question of faith comes into it: I don't know if I'm drawn to Christianity in part because it fits the moral ideals that are part of my natural character, or if my character (or personality) has been formed by the ideals of my faith. In fact, I am not sure about the reality or the impact of the former; I am certain of the truth and significance of the latter. I have no doubt that I have been changed and shaped by my faith and by a God who intends me to be more and more like him, as well as more fully who he created me to be as an individual.

For those following along, I am what Dr. Keirsey would call an Idealist. But the present focus for the Guardian type tends to be a stoical, often pessimistic resolution. For Rationals, it is pragmatic and generally self-satisfying by whatever means are most efficient. For Artisans, it is primarily hedonistic and very short-term. These would not seem to be quite as comfortable a fit with the basic tenets of Christianity: to love and obey God first, to love and care for others second, and to put your own needs and desires in a trailing position.

So what happens when someone whose primary focus is on fulfilling immediate, hedonistic desires comes in contact with a God who demands that others must come first, and that the absolutes of conduct and character cannot be subverted to achieve an end? Does their character change? Does an "SJ" become an "NT" in time? How is God's plan worked out in the variety of creation of humanity, and how close (or far) from his design is what we see today?

It's a lot to think about. And an interesting book.