Here are three simple tips to keep in mind when in the company of a narcissist. It doesn’t matter in which order you follow them, though; they’re more like general guidelines. Of course, the narcissist in question won’t realize that you’re catering to him; please, then, follow these criteria judiciously:
Wear reflective sunglasses so it will be easier for them to maintain eye contact with you.
Try to stand a foot lower than them so as to prepare for their condescending tone.
If you get the chance to reply, do so only in clichés because narcissists will only want to hear what’s expected and not what’s needed.
And always remember that the reason why narcissists repeat themselves so much isn’t because they don’t know you heard them the first time but because they don’t care that you hear them again.
We as good Christians should always keep the other person in mind, you know. Because, as Tim Keller tweeted, “Truth without love is imperious self-righteousness. Love without truth is cowardly self-indulgence.”
Do not love this world nor the things it offers you, for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you. For the world offers only a craving for physical pleasure, a craving for everything we see, and pride in our achievements and possessions. These are not from the Father but are from this world. And this world is fading away, along with everything that people crave. But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever. (1 John 2:15-17 NLT)
On a sunny day, grassy Christians bathe in the sunlight. The sun reactivates and reinvigorates their cells, and they let it warm them, change them, and grow them. While they maintain a portion of their own color, their translucence allows the influence of the true light to shimmer through.
Asphalty Christians remain black and rigid. They obstinately absorb the heat and sear any conscience that touches them. Instead of being pliable and flexible and open to new ideas, they stay like they are. Such quality of strength and integrity is admirable to a certain extent but not to the point of being so calcified that they can only be broken by a jackhammer.
It was the kind of night you could look up and see two different skies.
The first sky – the real sky – the far away sky – was at the top. It was the deep velvet violet everyone thinks about when they think about night skies between a fading warm spring and an impending hot summer. No diamond stars, just soft and deep rumination.
The other sky – the clouds, really – the closer sky – laid at the bottom. Just as soft but more overbearing, looming than the first sky. Spectral gray palates singed with halogen orange from suburban streetlights.
The wind was warm, too; hearty branches on lurching trees leaned back and forth anxiously. Leaves’ pale undersides carry the second sky – turning over, they carry the dark of the first sky, and they can’t decide for themselves, and the wind has better things to do.
To feel angry like heat lightning flicker with no rain for relief. To be too inadequate to rest and too apathetic to try.
To know God’s presence and not believe. To know his love and not obey.