Give your life away

 On June 1, 1930, Frank Laubach wrote a letter to his father while serving as a missionary to the Moros, a Muslim tribe in Mindanao. In his letter, he detailed a discovery that profoundly impacted his desire to live his life moment-by-moment in the presence of God. So what did he discover? "I must talk about God, or I cannot keep Him in my mind. I must give Him away in order to have Him." Those words are just as true today as they were almost one hundred years ago. 

So how exactly do we give God away? 

First, we need to be reminded how important we are to God. Scripture tells us that all people are marked with the image of God, created as unique individuals in His image. Please know that you are chosen by God (John 15:16), a beloved child of God (1 John 3:1), a friend of Jesus (John 15:15), God's work of art (Eph. 2:10), and are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). Each of these references represents a truth that you, me, and so many lost in darkness need to hear, many for the first time. 

Second, you have a unique testimony to tell. Think about it. No one who has ever lived has experienced life as you have. Your experience is unique: the time in history in which God ordained you to live, your family upbringing, your relationships, and your contribution to society. All that and more has culminated into a unique testimony others need you to tell. 

Last, your story is part of God's larger story of redemption. Along your faith journey, you have walked where others are now, and God wants to use you as their guide. As you go throughout your day, ask God to open your eyes to recognize the moments He is calling you to speak life into another soul. 

As we wrap up this reading plan, consider these words from M. Robert Mulholland Jr. "Everything that God has done, is doing, and ever will do in our lives to conform us to the image of Christ is not so that we may someday be set in a display case in heaven as trophies of grace. All of God's work to conform us to the image of Christ has as its sole purpose that we might become what God created us to be in relationship with God and with others." 

If you enjoyed this reading plan, you'll love my weekly devotional, helping you live on a mission for Jesus.

Graham Joseph Hill - Scripture

 There are few things more radical than believing that the living God speaks: still, now, through words on a page. Compared with the views of our age, it’s an astonishing conviction to believe that these words in Scripture, ancient yet alive, can pierce the noise of history and the chatter of our minds to reveal truth that heals, convicts, and remakes the world. For Christians, the Bible isn’t merely a sacred text among others. It’s the inspired witness to God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ: the Word through whom all words find their meaning.

The Bible isn’t a weapon. It’s not a political tool, nor a manual for domination. It’s the story of divine love breaking into human history: the record of God’s relentless pursuit of creation, culminating in Christ, who is both the center and the key. To read it rightly is to listen for the heartbeat of grace. To live by it is to be shaped into the likeness of the One who is Love.

Scripture as Living Word

When we say the Bible is the Word of God, we mean something astonishing: that through these words the Spirit still speaks. The same breath that moved over the waters in Genesis, the same voice that called prophets to justice and apostles to mission, now stirs in the hearts of readers who open the text in faith.

Scripture isn’t a static record of what God once said. It’s a living conversation between God and God’s people. The Word that became flesh continues to become voice through the pages of Scripture: beckoning, confronting, comforting, loving, and commissioning.

This means that reading the Bible is never a neutral act. It’s an encounter. The text reads us as much as we read it. It exposes our idols and illusions. It reveals both the glory and the poverty of the human heart. The Spirit meets us in its pages not to flatter but to transform: to turn hearers into doers, believers into disciples, and readers into witnesses.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105). The psalmist’s words remind us that Scripture isn’t a floodlight that removes all mystery. It’s a lamp: a humble flame that illuminates just enough for the next faithful step. The Bible guides us not by giving us control, but by calling us into trust.

The Authority of Love

To say that the Bible is the supreme and sufficient authority for faith and life doesn’t mean it’s a rigid rulebook. It means that all claims to truth, all doctrines, all moral decisions, all spiritual experiences must ultimately be tested by the story of God revealed in Scripture and brought to fulfillment in Christ.

But biblical authority is never authoritarian. It’s the authority of love: an authority that liberates rather than constrains. The authority of Scripture doesn’t crush human conscience; it awakens it. It doesn’t silence honest questioning; it sanctifies it.

Every true reading of Scripture leads us deeper into the mind of Christ, who is the final Word of God. If our interpretations breed cruelty, exclusion, or arrogance, they’ve missed the Spirit’s intent. “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6). The authority of the Bible isn’t about control but transformation: shaping us into a people whose lives reflect the love of God for the world.[1]

To trust Scripture as authoritative is to submit our imagination to its story, allowing it to dismantle false narratives of power and pride. It means letting the Sermon on the Mount interpret our politics, letting the prophets shape our economics, letting the Gospels reorder our priorities.

Authority, in biblical terms, means the power to give life. And Scripture, when read in the Spirit, does just that: it breathes life into weary bones and calls the church to rise.

The Freedom of Conscience and the Fellowship of Interpretation

Every believer is called to read and discern the Word of God. There are no spiritual elites who monopolize interpretation. The Reformers’ conviction that all believers share a “priesthood” wasn’t an attack on scholarship or tradition; it was an affirmation that the Spirit speaks to all within the fellowship of faith.[2]

To read Scripture “in the freedom of conscience” means that each follower of Jesus must engage it personally, responsibly, and prayerfully, willing to be shaped and corrected. But such freedom is never isolation. The same Spirit who illumines individual minds binds the community together. The church is the interpretive home of the Word, the space where believers discern truth not as private consumers but as a body seeking wisdom together.

The Bible is best read not in echo chambers but around tables: where diverse voices wrestle, question, and listen. Faithful interpretation requires humility: the willingness to be taught by the global and historical church, by the poor and the marginalized, by those whose experiences differ from our own.

The truth of Scripture isn’t fragile. It doesn’t need to be protected from scrutiny. It needs to be practiced in love.

The Bible’s Rhythm: From Hearing to Doing

The Bible isn’t meant to be admired from afar; it’s meant to be lived. In both Testaments, the pattern is clear: God speaks, people act. The Word calls us to obedience, not as coercion but as participation in divine life.

When Jesus tells the parable of the wise and foolish builders, he draws the line not between those who hear his words and those who don’t, but between those who hear and do them (Matthew 7:24–27). The Word of God creates disciples who embody what they hear.

Reading Scripture prayerfully means letting it form habits of mercy, justice, and humility. Reading it contextually means attending to its world so we can rightly interpret it in ours: hearing it first in the voice of ancient Israel, then through the Word made flesh, and finally in the chorus of witnesses who have lived its truth.

Reading it obediently means more than just moral compliance. It means surrender. It means saying, with Mary, “Let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). The goal isn’t mastery of the text; it’s the transformation of the heart.

The Bible as a Prophetic Mirror

When Scripture is read rightly, it turns our gaze outward as much as inward. It reveals the idols of our age: greed disguised as freedom, nationalism disguised as faith, violence disguised as justice.

The prophets understood that to know the Word of God is to be summoned into history: to confront oppression, to defend those experiencing poverty, and to seek peace. Isaiah’s vision of God’s Word going forth like rain that “doesn’t return empty” (Isaiah 55:11) isn’t about private spirituality alone. It’s about a Word that transforms economies, politics, and human hearts.

Jesus, steeped in Scripture, embodied this prophetic vocation. He announced good news to people experiencing poverty, freedom to captives, and sight to people who are blind. Every word he spoke was Scripture fulfilled, and every silence was Scripture waiting to be revealed.

To follow Jesus is to let that same Word shape our moral imagination. It means reading the Bible with the eyes of the crucified: seeing the world from below, from the perspective of those who suffer. When we read Scripture this way, it becomes not an instrument of dominance but a summons to solidarity.

“Isn’t my word like fire,” declares the Lord, “and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” (Jeremiah 23:29). The Bible burns away illusions. It breaks the hardness of heart that justifies injustice. Yet it also kindles hope: the fire that warms a world grown cold.

The Bible Points Beyond Itself to Christ

If the Bible is the Word of God, then Jesus Christ is its grammar and syntax. Every story finds its coherence in him. He is the thread that runs from Genesis to Revelation, the living exegesis of divine love.

The Bible points beyond itself. Its words aren’t an end, but a way: a lamp leading us to the living Word who speaks them. When we read Scripture apart from Christ, it becomes brittle and weaponized. But when we read through the lens of his life, death, and resurrection, every command becomes an invitation to love.

Jesus himself modeled this hermeneutic. When he walked with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, “beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself” (Luke 24:27). The result wasn’t intellectual agreement: it was burning hearts and open eyes. That’s the mark of Spirit-filled reading: not more certainty, but more wonder.

Every true interpretation leads us deeper into the mystery of the crucified and risen Christ. Every false interpretation forgets him.

Christ at the Center: The Logic of Redemption and Revelation

The logic of Christianity begins and ends with Christ. The gospel’s claim isn’t one truth among many, but the truth: that in Jesus of Nazareth, God has acted once and for all to reconcile creation to the Creator. There’s no salvation outside of him, not because divine love is narrow, but because divine love has become personal. “No one comes to God except through me,” Jesus said, not as a threat, but as an invitation to communion (John 14:6). In him, the fullness of God dwells bodily; in him, the human story meets its healing and its home. To confess Christ as Lord is to affirm that every path to truth, justice, mercy, reconciliation, healing, salvation, and peace ultimately finds its meaning in the One who is Truth itself.

This centrality of Christ shapes how we read and live the Scriptures. The Bible is a unified witness pointing toward the living Word. Every page, law, lament, poem, song, epistle, narrative, and prophecy finds its fulfillment in him. To read the Bible rightly is to read it through the cross and resurrection: to see its ultimate trajectory as reconciliation, not condemnation. When Christ is the center, interpretation becomes an act of discipleship: we discern together what faithfulness to him looks like in our time. His love becomes the hermeneutic through which we judge every doctrine, ethic, and public action. In a world prone to using Scripture for division or domination, the church is called to read the Word in the Spirit of Christ: to apply it in ways that heal, humanize, and proclaim the reconciling love that holds the cosmos together.

The Bible and the Contemplative Life

If Scripture shapes discipleship, it must also shape our prayer. The contemplative tradition teaches that reading the Bible isn’t about acquiring information, but about transforming. Lectio divina (the ancient practice of sacred reading) invites us to slow down, to listen, to allow the Word to descend from the mind to the heart.[3]

We read, meditate, pray, and rest, not to master the text but to be mastered by it. The Word becomes flesh in us as we sit in silence, allowing divine truth to permeate our being (John 1:5 and 14).

In a world addicted to speed and slogans, contemplative reading is an act of resistance. It reclaims speech as sacred and silence as fertile. It reminds us that revelation isn’t grasped by argument but received by love.

To read the Bible contemplatively is to hear God’s whisper amid the noise of empires. It’s to let Scripture train our attention until we can recognize the voice of Christ in the cry of the poor, the beauty of creation, and the quiet ache of our own hearts.

The Bible and the Life of the Church

Scripture doesn’t form solitary spiritual leaders only: it forms a people. From Israel gathered at Sinai to the church gathered around Word and Table, the Bible creates community.

Every time believers read Scripture together, something sacramental occurs: the Spirit joins lives into a single story. Across languages, centuries, and continents, the Bible becomes our shared songbook. It gives us a grammar of hope when our own words fail.

When the early church heard the Scriptures read aloud, they responded not with applause or critique but with obedience. They believed the Word wasn’t only to be heard but also to be enacted. Their communal reading led to a shared life: one of generosity, forgiveness, and radical hospitality.

That’s the test of biblical spirituality: not how much we know, but how well we love. Scripture’s authority is vindicated when it produces communities of compassion that embody God’s reign.

Reading the Bible in a Wounded World

Today, the Bible is often co-opted to justify nationalism, misogyny, exclusion, and greed. It’s used to wound rather than heal. But the same text, when read in the Spirit of Christ, can dismantle these distortions.

To reclaim the Bible for discipleship, we must return to its prophetic and pastoral roots. The Word of God calls us not to power but to servanthood, not to certainty but to compassion. It draws us into solidarity with the oppressed, challenges our privilege, and reminds us that love of God is inseparable from love of neighbor.

Reading the Bible faithfully in this age of polarization means resisting the temptation to use it as a weapon in tribal battles. It means reading it as a pilgrim, not a gatekeeper. The Word was never given to justify our fears; it was given to set us free.

In a time when truth is cheap and outrage sells, the church’s witness will depend on how we embody the Word, not in slogans, but in lives that echo its melody: mercy, justice, humility, and hope.

The Word That Became Flesh, Again

At the heart of Christian discipleship is imitation: becoming like the One we follow. The Bible is the Spirit’s primary tool for this formation. But the end of Bible reading is never mere knowledge; it’s Christlikeness.

When Scripture takes root in us, it begins to incarnate again. The Word becomes flesh in our speech, our choices, our compassion. Our communities become living commentaries: interpretations written not with ink, but with lives of grace.

To live biblically, then, is to let the story of God rewrite our own. It’s to see every stranger as a neighbor, every enemy as a potential sibling, every act of mercy as Scripture fulfilled.

A Word for Our Time

The Bible’s relevance isn’t that it answers every modern question; it’s that it draws us into a story big enough to hold every question. Its truth isn’t formulaic but relational. It doesn’t give us certainty; it gives us communion.

Our task isn’t to defend the Bible as if it were fragile, but to let it defend the world from despair. In its pages, we hear again the ancient, defiant hope: that light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

When we open Scripture, we open the door to that light. We listen for the voice that speaks creation into being, justice into chaos, peace into violence. And if we listen long enough, that voice begins to shape us until our own speech becomes creative, truthful, and kind.

A Prayer for the Word to Take Flesh Again

O God who speaks still,

teach us to hear your Word amid the noise of our time.

Strip away our idols of certainty and control.

Let your Scriptures burn in us as fire, not a weapon.

Turn our reading into repentance, our knowledge into love.

Make us a people who don’t merely quote your Word,

but embody it;

in justice that rolls down like water,

in mercy that never ends,

in faith that walks humbly with you.

Let your Word once more become flesh among us,

and let the world see in your people

the living proof that your story is still being told.

Amen.

Bibliography

Augustine. On Christian Doctrine. Translated by D. W. Robertson, Jr. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1958.

Guigo II. The Ladder of Monks and Twelve Meditations. Translated by Edmund Colledge and James Walsh. Kalamazoo: Cistercian, 1979.

Luther, Martin. To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation (1520). In Three Treatises. Translated by Charles M. Jacobs. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970.

The Kingdom is Like

 “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”

(Matthew 13:44) 

Have you ever gone searching for treasure? Not the kind buried in sand or marked by a red X, but the kind Heaven hides… deep beneath surrender.

As a child, I imagined chests of gold and maps with weathered edges. But no glittering coin or crown compares to what the soul finds in Jesus Christ. Nothing.

The kingdom of heaven is not measured in trophies. It’s not stored behind glass or guarded by banks. It’s hidden—in the field of yielded hearts. Waiting for those willing to dig.

When that man found it, he sold everything. Not out of duty…but joy. He knew what it was worth. He didn’t pause to calculate. Didn’t cling to what was comfortable. His eyes were set on one thing… that field. That treasure.

Jesus is that Treasure. The Pearl of Great Price. The One who outshines every star and eclipses every sunrise.

Search every mountain, sail every sea, gather earth’s finest gems—and still, all of it fades beside Him.

Hold a rose in sunlight, breathe in its beauty—it’s lovely, yes. But He is lovelier still.

Touch a flawless diamond, let its light dance between your fingers—still, it pales beside His radiance.

Taste honey fresh from the comb—sweet, but not like Him. His presence is the sweetest thing the soul will ever know.

He is the One the heart aches for.

The One whose voice quiets storms.

The One whose eyes burn with holy love.

You could hold the world in your hands—silver, gold, empires—and yet feel empty. But one whisper from Jesus fills every corner of your being.

He is our Wondrous Treasure.

So what will we do with a Treasure so priceless? Will we tuck Him away among other priorities? Or will we, like the man in the story, joyfully surrender all—reputation, ambition, control—just to have more of Him?

Is He your everything?

Does your heart leap at His Name?

Do tears fall when His presence draws near?

Listen.

You can almost hear His footsteps through the fields of eternity.

The Lover of your soul is coming closer.

He’s searching for hearts willing to let go of all—to hold on to Him alone.

“For her proceeds are better than the profits of silver, and her gain than fine gold.”

—Proverbs 3:14

He is Wisdom. He is Beauty. The everlasting inheritance that never fades.

When the merchant found the pearl of great price, he stopped searching for lesser pearls. So must we. Once you have found Christ, there is nothing left to chase. He is the end of every longing, the answer to every cry.

And yet—oh mystery of grace!—though He is the Treasure, we were the ones He gave everything to redeem. The Great Merchant of Heaven saw something of worth buried in the dust… you.

He sold all He had.

Laid aside His glory.

Paid for you with His blood.

What a wondrous exchange—

The priceless for the broken.

The perfect for the flawed.

Love for ashes.

No wonder we sing:

“Lord, You are more precious than silver.

Lord, You are more costly than gold.

Lord, You are more beautiful than diamonds.

And nothing I desire compares to You.”

Nothing. Nothing I desire compares to You.

Let that truth rest deep inside you now. Everything else fades. Riches rust. Beauty wilts. Glory passes. But Jesus remains.

The Treasure of all treasures. The Pearl that outshines eternity.

He stands before you now, offering Himself freely—but asking for everything.

Will you buy the field?

Will you let go of the lesser pearls?

Will you whisper, even through trembling lips—

“You, Jesus, are enough.”

And when you do…

your heart will become a field blooming with costly gold.

With Love,

Steve Porter

www.morningglorydevo.com

A B Simpson

 I will close with the fitting words of A.B. Simpson:

Once it was the blessing, Now it is the Lord;

Once it was the feeling, Now it is His Word.

Once His gifts I wanted, Now the Giver own;

Once I sought for healing, Now Himself alone.

Once twas painful trying, Now tis perfect trust;

Once a half salvation, Now the uttermost.

Once twas ceaseless holding, Now He holds me fast;

Once twas constant drifting, Now my anchor’s cast.

Once twas busy planning, Now tis trustful prayer;

Once twas anxious caring, Now He has the care.

Once twas what I wanted, Now what Jesus says;

Once twas constant asking, Now tis ceaseless praise.

Once it was my working, His it hence shall be;

Once I tried to use Him, Now He uses me.

Once the power I wanted, Now the Mighty One;

Once for self I labored, Now for Him alone

Once I hoped in Jesus, Now I know He’s mine;

Once my lamps were dying, Now they brightly shine.

Once for death I waited, Now His coming hail;

And my hopes are anchored, Safe within the veil.

—

Taken from From Eternity to Here (David C. Cook, 2009), pp. 291-305.

Remembering Dallas Willard

 A Bridge Between Worlds: Remembering Dallas Willard

by Mark A. Scandrette

Hi all. My friend and colleague Mark Scandrette wrote this reflection after Dallas transitioned into Glory; it was originally published in either Sojourners or Christianity Today, but has long been out of print. I'm sharing it now for two reasons: One, I sometimes feel like a fish out of water in this group as an unapologetically progressive, contemplative/esoteric, Peace Church-influenced apprentice of Jesus who receives much value from Dallas's life and work; Mark speaks to his underappreciated role as a bridge-builder so well. And secondly, because I think many of you will enjoy this tribute. Grace and peace.

I’ve spent the last week reflecting on the life of one of my most important influences,  Dallas Willard, who passed away on May 8th. The morning he died, I awoke early with a  sense that he was gone, and later discovered that my good friend, Gary Black, had  been with him in his final breaths.  

I became familiar with Willard’s work in kingdom theology and spiritual formation in 1998  during a dramatic transition in my life. Willard’s broader and more cosmic understanding  of Jesus Christ and his message helped me adjust my lens on faith to the pluralist  context of San Francisco. In Divine Conspiracy I discovered language for what I long  thought true about the present availability of the divine life. His earlier book, Spirit of the  Disciplines, became something of a primer for the journey of integration I’ve sought to  experience and share with others.  

As a person, Dallas became an important part of the early development of ReIMAGINE. Our team participated in forums and intensives he taught in Southern California.  Because of my cofounder Dieter Zander’s connections, Dallas spent time with our little  group in San Francisco on several occasions.  

In person, Dallas was his message: utterly calm, centered, humble, present, quietly  engaging and profoundly wise. Because of this I tended to refer to him as “the buddha-like one.” As a young man of action, urgency, ego and emotion I felt like a bull in a  china shop whenever I was around him. At a large conference I helped organize, I tried  to convince Dallas to wear a court jester’s hat onstage. “We are going for a holy fools  sort of thing,” I explained. He declined by saying, “I’m still working on the holy part.” I  wanted strategy, tactics, drama and demonstrable evidence and was often frustrated by  Willard’s deceptively simple responses to my agitated questions. Gradually I’ve come to  understand that Willard’s radical calm and modesty came from his confidence in the  absolute goodness of God expressed in this moment. 

As a young man I asked Willard how a community might experience the reality of God’s  kingdom. His reply became the mandate of our work over the past 12 years, “a group of  people should simply look at what Jesus said and did and try to do those things.” We  eventually designed a years worth of curriculum, exercises and Learning Labs based on  this premise, informed by his understanding of the dynamics of spiritual formation. In  retrospect, I think I’ve put more energy into the action or method, without fully realizing  the inward journey required for substantive change -- the daily, moment by moment  surrender to the love that is making all things new.  

I understand that Willard’s theological work is largely ignored in academic circles.  Though a trained philosopher, his theological writings speak more to the soul than the  scholarly mind. Despite his sophistications, and though many find his writing dense,  precise and difficult, he wrote and taught with the heart of a pastor. In some of his  writing and teaching I detect a cultural myopathy that at times verges on antagonism  towards contemporary society and culture. I am challenged by the semi cloistered and  deeply private life he lived, which I believe funded his considerable and at times  prophetic contributions. 

At times I’ve been critical of what I considered to be Willard’s “quietist” approach, though I’ve come to understand that his lack of overt social justice  rhetoric came from a thorough commitment to secrecy. I am challenged not to shout  about every small act of compassion I perform. I have friends who wrestle with gender  identity and sexuality who interpreted his responses to their earnest questions as  conventional and lacking nuance. Yet who of us is not limited in our perspective by our  age, milieu and life experiences?  

At times I’ve resisted formal association with “the Willard school” because so many of  his most zealous “fans,” in my estimation, grasp for knowledge of his work without  seeking or possessing his kind of knowing-- a wisdom way of being that came from  silence, solitude and quiet surrender. These are not ideas to be understood as much as  realities to experience.  

For me Willard serves as a bridge between the simple “biblical” faith of my upbringing,  the wisdom tradition of the mystics and the challenges and opportunities of new  consciousness emerging in the 21st century. I am deeply indebted to the strength of his  ideas and the example of his life.  

Character Develolment

 https://open.substack.com/pub/robkhenderson/p/improving-character-is-easier-than?r=43vew&utm_medium=ios

Rob Henderson

Personality is more malleable than IQ. 

It’s hard to make people smarter. 

But this isn’t true for being responsible. Or polite. Or punctual. Or respectful. Or law-abiding. Or hardworking. Or reliable. The unglamorous virtues that keep lives on track. 

Personality psychologists are interested in how people differ from one another. What explains the differences in behavior, achievement, and motivation across individuals? 

These are the Big Five personality traits:

Openness to Experience. People high in openness tend to be more creative and entrepreneurial, seek out new information and perspectives, and are more likely to get tattoos or piercings. They’re also more willing to relocate for school or work, compared with those who score low on this trait.

Conscientiousness. People who score high on this trait are industrious and tend to excel in school and at work. They are punctual, report greater job satisfaction, save more money, stick to exercise routines, and hold themselves to high standards.

Extroversion. Compared with introverts, extroverts enjoy social attention and are more likely to take on leadership roles. They tend to be more cooperative, have more friends and sex partners, and be more socially active. They also tend to drive faster and more recklessly—and get into more car accidents.

Agreeableness. Agreeable individuals tend to avoid conflict and prefer negotiation and compromise. They value harmonious social environments and want everyone to get along. They typically score high on measures of empathy and spend more time volunteering or helping others. They’re more likely to withdraw from confrontation and care deeply about being liked.

Neuroticism. The hallmark of this trait is emotional steadiness: how much a person’s mood fluctuates. Those low in emotional stability (i.e., high in neuroticism) tend to react strongly to everyday setbacks and minor frustrations. Those higher in emotional stability are generally less prone to anxiety and depression and bounce back more easily from stress.

You can remember them using the acronyms OCEAN or CANOE. If you take a Big Five personality test, you’d receive a score for each of them. 

Openness

Conscientiousness

Extroversion

Neuroticism

Agreeableness

The Big Five were not discovered by starting with a grand theory. There was no hypothesis predicting in advance what the five traits would be. Instead, they were discovered through brute force empiricism. Early researchers gathered large amounts of data and used statistical methods to find the patterns.

One of the most important methods used is called the lexical approach. The idea is that language reflects what humans care about. Since so much of our daily speech focuses on ourselves and on other people. The language we use has evolved to capture common differences in personality.

By analyzing large bodies of language, researchers found that certain words cluster together in predictable ways. These clusters point to underlying personality traits. When you run the numbers, you find that five consistent categories keep showing up.

Another way to study personality is simply to ask people to describe themselves. You can use questions, phrases, adjectives, and so on. When you statistically analyze the kinds of descriptors people use for themselves, the results once again cluster into the same five categories.

For example, words like confrontational, gregarious, and talkative tend to clump together using statistical techniques. These all fall under the broader category of extraversion.

You can also use informant-reporting methods. Instead of asking you to describe yourself, I could ask your friends, family members, teachers, or coworkers to describe you. Interestingly, the results from self-reports and other-reports tend to be fairly similar. Different researchers using different methods have independently arrived at the Big Five personality traits, which gives the model additional credibility.

Personality is relatively stable but it is more malleable than, say, intelligence. With focused effort there can be small to moderate levels of change. The most powerful factor that seems to change personality is age. Longitudinal studies show that personality traits continue to develop throughout adulthood. There is a 1 standard deviation increase in conscientiousness from young adulthood to middle age. Most people's neuroticism declines by about 1 standard deviation from young adulthood to middle age.

Broadly speaking, the five-factor model is relatively stable across cultures. It performs well in developed countries. However, it is less consistent in developing nations and in small-scale traditional societies. Researchers have not reliably found the five traits in non-student adult populations in places like Bolivia, Ghana, Kenya, Laos, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and Macedonia, among others.

Part of the reason may be cultural. WEIRD societies—Western, educated, industrialized, rich, and democratic—tend to emphasize individualism and self-expression. These societies encourage people to reflect on and develop their personal traits. In contrast, kin-based communities focus more on the group than the individual. In those contexts, people often have less interest in expressing or cultivating their unique traits.

Take the Tsimane, a farmer-forager group in Bolivia. Their personality traits don’t align with the Big Five. Instead, researchers identified two main dimensions. First, interpersonal prosociality, which refers to the tendency to build rich social relationships. Second, there’s industriousness, which involves working hard at practical tasks like weaving or hunting.

In modern, egalitarian societies, the differences between individuals are amplified. In traditional, resource-poor societies, those differences tend to shrink. 

People in WEIRD societies live in one of the most permissive social environments in history. That environment allows underlying genetic predispositions to express themselves. And yet, paradoxically, we also live in a society more committed to the idea of the blank slate than perhaps any other. We encourage the belief that people are shaped entirely by environment, while living in a structure with the wealth and freedom to allow underlying genetic differences to express themselves in a way no other society has ever done. 

With all that said, the Big Five is still a valid and reliable model for understanding personality in modern, developed countries. That doesn’t mean all traits are obvious or activated all the time. Just because someone has a trait doesn’t mean you’ll always be able to see it.

Take intelligence. Some people are more intelligent than others. But you won’t always know who’s smart just by looking around. You need the right situation to bring it out. Next time you’re in a crowded place, ask yourself: who here is the smartest? You can’t really tell until intelligence becomes relevant. Until a situation demands it.

The same logic also applies to physical traits like obesity. Decades ago, very few people were overweight. You could look around and ask who might be prone to obesity, but the environment at the time didn’t allow for that trait to be fully expressed. There simply wasn’t enough cheap, abundant, highly processed food available. So you wouldn’t have known who carried the underlying propensity.

The expression of traits depends on the interaction between biology and environment. And this isn’t just about health or behavior. It applies to the way research psychology works too.

There is another personality framework that has been gaining traction. It’s called the HEXACO model. This model includes six dimensions: Honesty-Humility, Emotionality, Extraversion, Agreeableness, Conscientiousness, and Openness to Experience.

There’s a lot of overlap between the Big Five and HEXACO. But the Honesty-Humility factor is perhaps the most notable difference. It isn’t included in the traditional Big Five. 

Honesty-Humility refers to how sincere, fair, and unselfish someone is in their dealings with others. It sounds similar to Agreeableness, but the emphasis is different. 

Agreeableness is about how likely you are to tolerate or cooperate with someone who might exploit you. In contrast, honesty-Humility is about whether you’re the one who’s inclined to exploit others.

It’s not yet clear whether HEXACO will eventually replace the Big Five as the dominant model. The dust hasn’t settled. It’s too soon to tell.

Scientific careers are hard. You can spend years on a project, hoping for significant results. If the study doesn’t yield much, it can feel like a waste of time. I once knew someone who tried to predict academic performance using a measure of personal values. The project didn’t go anywhere, and his student ended up not receiving a PhD, despite working hard for years.

This raises a broader issue about how to approach a PhD program in psychology or any social science. You can take a risk, try something new, and potentially make a breakthrough. But the risk of failure is high. If the idea doesn’t work, you may not publish, and you might not even get the degree. Most psychology PhD students never publish a single peer-reviewed paper. At many elite programs, publishing is usually expected to receive the degree.

The alternative is to play it safe. You can build on existing work, make incremental progress, and improve your odds of publication and graduation. But the tradeoff is that you probably won’t produce anything groundbreaking. That was the path I chose. I took the cautious route during my academic work and channeled my creative energy into writing and other side projects outside the university.

Anyway, you can see the foundations of personality in very young children. Temperament, how easily they cry, how quickly they’re soothed, how willing they are to follow rules. These are all early indicators. The signs are there from the beginning.

It’s important to note here that claims about the importance of personality aren’t just self-reports. Results on a Big Five personality test can predict real-world outcomes.

People with higher conscientiousness scores tend to get better grades in school and earn more money (even when controlling for IQ). There's a negative correlation between intelligence and conscientiousness, but this is driven entirely by orderliness. People have suggested this is a compensatory effect where people who are less intelligent are more motivated to be organized.

Relatedly, men with wives who score higher on conscientiousness tend to earn more money, even when the men’s own level of conscientiousness is controlled

Students who are low in agreeableness are more likely to cheat in their classes.

People who score high on extraversion and low on conscientiousness are more likely to engage in risky sex (e.g., lots of partners, no condom use)

People high on neuroticism and low on conscientiousness are more likely to abuse substances or become addicted to gambling

People who are high on agreeableness and extraversion are more likely to engage in volunteer work

People who are high in openness and extraversion are more likely to relocate for work

Again, personality is more malleable than IQ. 

Several studies have found that when people behave in a more extraverted manner, they report being happier. This doesn’t work for intelligence. You can't just ask people to act smarter and expect them to suddenly behave in a more intelligent way. But you can do it with personality. 

You can't make someone smarter with rewards and penalties. But conscientiousness, extraversion, and other personality traits are responsive to incentives. Material rewards like money can sometimes do this. And so can social tools like expectations, obligations, shame, or judgment. These can make people more or less punctual, orderly, hardworking, sociable, and so on.

Which is interesting. Because we spend a lot of time, attention, and resources into improving people’s academic aptitude. Usually with very limited success.

But we don’t invest nearly as much into getting people to improve their character, which is more within the realm of possibility. If you shame me for being dumb, I can’t do much about that. If you shame me for being lazy or impulsive, there’s room for change. 

It’s hard to make people smarter. Intelligence is stubborn.

But this isn’t true for responsibility, or politeness, or punctuality. It isn’t true for being respectful, law-abiding, hardworking, or reliable. These aren’t glamorous traits. But they are teachable. And for just about everyone, they are reachable. And they matter. The quiet virtues that keep lives steady and on track.

John Quincy Adams

 I remember in February 1848, a friend asked the 80-year-old John Quincy Adams how he was doing. He replied with this memorable, extended metaphor: 

"John Quincy Adams is well, but the house in which he lives at the present time is becoming dilapidated. It's tottering on its foundations. Time and the seasons have nearly destroyed it. Its roof is pretty well worn out. Its walls are shattered and tremble with every wind. I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it pretty soon. But he, himself, is quite well, thank you". 

We will all end up there someday but until that time I choose to live to the hilt every situation I believe to be the willl of God.

- Michael Sprague