Closure

On the Myers-Briggs personality inventory, the last letter in the four-letter combination describing a person’s way of relating to the world is a J or a P. To make it rather simple, the P person is a perceiver, described as open-ended with a free-flow way of relating to the world. The P is not quick to judge, and could possibly be characterized as someone who keeps their options available and flexible. The J person, on the other hand, is a judger, not in a particularly negative way, but they tend to make decisions more quickly, bring things to closure, and know what they do and don’t like. While a P is open-ended, a J is focused and narrows down the options at hand, tending to be decisive. The P is a good person to make inquiries; the J is a good person to make summaries.

I am a J. And as such, I like closure. The world has a way of not granting closure, and thus, I wish to protest, at least mildly.

What is it like when a J person lives in a P world? It’s like walking in a dark room and bumping into things, but not being able to explain them despite the bruises. For example, it’s frustrating to me when someone comes into my life and “boards my boat,” but then slips away with no explanation. Most recently that has happened in a couple of circumstances. The first is disconcerting; the second is tied to hundreds of thousands of dollars.

With regard to the first example, I should set the stage by noting that I host a young women’s Bible Study group. For the most part we—naturally—study the Bible. But this year, at the suggestion of the young women in the group, we’ve been reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis and discussing it in reference to our lives as Christians. The women in the group bring friends from time to time, and the friends may come once or twice, and then fade off. That doesn’t bother me.

What bothers me is when someone comes more than once or twice, and seems a part of the group, but then suddenly quits coming with no explanation. In one case it was a woman with a physical disability who simply quit coming without a word, and I have fretted, wondering if we somehow offended her. When I wrote a kindly e-mail inquiring about how it was going for her, she didn’t answer at all. And yet I see her in dialogue with others. I feel bad about that. In another case it was a young woman who came for two years, and then simply faded away without explanation. She’s friendly when she sees me, but she never offered any closure. She could have said, “I have another opportunity, and that would work better for me,” or, “This just isn’t working for my spiritual needs right now,” and I would have been fine with that. I think. But why did she leave? I hate living without closure.

Here’s the thing: I’m a big girl, generally capable of having someone tell me that my project isn’t a fit for them, and remaining on good terms with them. It just seems impolite to wander off without a word, not letting your host know that you’ve got something else that takes priority and thanking them for their efforts. Am I too sensitive about that?

In the second situation, I have been working on a university-related project at the invitation of a friend overseas. All was going well until about two months ago, after we were well on the road for starting a new program. Our board of trustees had even kicked in with approval and enthusiasm. Suddenly my e-mail questions were not getting answered, and no matter how much we tried, we couldn’t get any response out of this person. Only this week, when I got really aggressive about calling via telephone and finally got a response, did I find out that two hurdles have emerged that make the project iffy.

And I have $200,000 budgeted to this project.

I know we’ll survive somehow, because I constantly trust my work into God’s hands. But I have a need for closure. What happened? What is this friend thinking? Has he simply been afraid to convey bad news? Does he think his currency with me is less if the project takes a nosedive? I still like him and have great respect for his work.

There are two things I’d like to say about all of this. The first is that people need to have the backbone to share bad news. It’s scary at first, but the truth is that the anticipation of giving bad news is always worse than the actual delivery of it. As long as you can give bad news in an empathetic, respectful way, articulating recognition of its cost to the recipient of the news, you’ll be okay. In fact, it very well could increase the likelihood of preserving the relationship.

Secondly, many people need closure. If something isn’t working for you, let them know how it isn’t working as you move on. If you have it in your power to discontinue an activity, a relationship, or your presence in their lives, it seems the right thing to do to offer them some kind of explanation that preserves their dignity while allowing you to disconnect. Be kind. We who are J’s would appreciate that.