There are moments in life, often quiet ones, where a light flicks on. Suddenly, patterns you’ve lived with for decades snap into focus. For me, discovering the Enneagram wasn't just about finding a number; it was like finding a key to rooms inside myself I didn't even know were locked. It’s become an indispensable tool in my spiritual journey, helping me move from shame towards a deeper understanding of myself and the unconditional love of God.
The Enneagram, for those unfamiliar, is far more than just another personality typing system. While systems like Myers-Briggs describe how we behave, the Enneagram delves into the why – our core motivations, fears, and desires. It outlines nine fundamental ways of seeing the world and navigating its challenges. As Richard Rohr often emphasizes, the Enneagram isn't about boxing people in, but about showing them the box they're already in, so they can find their way out into greater freedom and encounter the Divine.
My own "box" is that of a Type 3, the Achiever, with a strong Wing 2, the Helper (3w2). On the surface, Threes are often seen as driven, adaptable, and success-oriented. We want to be valuable and admired. The Two wing adds a deep desire to be liked and helpful, often focusing energy on meeting the needs of others. Sounds pretty good, right? Productive, helpful, involved.
But digging deeper, especially with the insights of teachers like Don Riso and Russ Hudson who map out the "Levels of Health" for each type, reveals the shadow side. The core fear of a Three is being worthless or without inherent value. The compulsion is to perform, to achieve, to present an image of success and competence to earn that value. The Two wing can amplify this by making connection and approval contingent on being indispensable to others.
Now, layer onto that framework the experience of growing up as an overweight, gay kid in Iowa. In an environment where fitting the mold felt paramount, my inherent Three-ness went into overdrive. The message I internalized, consciously or not, was: "You are different. You don't quite belong. You must prove your worth. You must achieve, excel, and be incredibly helpful and likable to compensate for the ways you don't measure up." My identity became fused with my accomplishments and the image I projected. Shame wasn't just an occasional visitor; it felt like the wallpaper of my inner room. The fear of being truly seen – flaws, insecurities, and all – was terrifying, because I fundamentally believed that if people saw the real me, beneath the achievements and the helpful smile, they wouldn't find anything worthwhile.
Discovering the Enneagram, specifically through the compassionate and psychologically astute lens of writers like Helen Palmer, who emphasizes self-observation without judgment, was revolutionary. It gave me language for the constant, exhausting engine of performance humming beneath the surface. It explained:
The Chameleon: Why I adapted so easily to different environments, sometimes losing myself in the process. (A 3 seeking admiration).
The Productivity Drive: Why my self-worth felt so tied to my to-do list and external validation. (A 3 fearing worthlessness).
The Need to Please: Why saying "no" felt like a personal failure, and why I felt responsible for others' happiness. (The 2 wing seeking connection/approval).
The Deep Shame: It named the underlying fear driving the performance – the fear that without the mask of success and helpfulness, I was inherently lacking.
This self-awareness wasn't an instant fix, but it was the beginning of freedom. Understanding why I felt compelled to perform allowed me to observe those compulsions with more compassion. Instead of beating myself up for feeling the need for validation, I could recognize it as the pattern of a Type 3 trying to navigate the world.
This is where the Enneagram becomes a profound tool for spiritual development. It helped me see how my type structure was impacting my relationship with God. I had unknowingly projected my 3w2 patterns onto the Divine. I related to God as someone I needed to impress, someone whose love and approval had to be earned through spiritual achievements, service, and presenting a "good Christian" image. The idea of grace, of unconditional love simply given, felt foreign because it bypassed the performance/reward system I operated under.
Learning about my type allowed me to:
Recognize the "Mask": To see when I was performing for God instead of resting in relationship.
Name the Shame: To understand its roots in the Three's fear of worthlessness, compounded by personal history, rather than seeing it as ultimate truth about myself.
Create Space for Grace: By noticing the drive to achieve, I could consciously choose to pause, breathe, and remember that my value isn't dependent on my output, but is inherent because I am loved by God.
Practice Self-Compassion: To treat my struggles and compulsions not as failures, but as invitations to lean into God's love and find my true identity there.
This journey out of shame and into a felt sense of God's love is ongoing, but the Enneagram has been a faithful map and guide. It illuminates the specific terrain of my own heart, showing me the pitfalls (performance, vanity, deceit) and the path towards integration and wholeness (authenticity, self-acceptance, hope).
This is why I believe the Enneagram can be such a gift to the Church. When used wisely and compassionately, it moves beyond mere labels. It fosters profound self-awareness, which is the bedrock of spiritual growth. It helps us understand why we sin, why we get triggered, why we struggle in certain relationships. It builds empathy, allowing us to see others not just through the lens of their behavior, but through the lens of their core motivations and fears. Imagine congregations where people understand their own compulsions and can offer grace to others navigating theirs. Imagine small groups where vulnerability is deepened because people have the language to describe their inner world with more clarity.
The Enneagram doesn't replace scripture, prayer, or community. It's a tool, like Rohr suggests, for discernment and transformation. It helped this former overweight, gay kid from Iowa begin to untangle the knots of shame and performance, and step into the liberating truth that he is loved, deeply and unconditionally, not for what he does, but simply for who he is. And that's a truth worth building a life on.
