Posted on
October 17, 2008 by
larry
Last night we tested a new crop of yellow-shirt fighters at our mixed martial arts club. The hour-and-a-half long test concluded with the fighters taking to the mats and grappling for fifteen minutes.
I felt for these guys. I had just taken this test in May, and from my perspective this entry level exam was as physically grueling as my taekwondo black belt test I took a half dozen years ago. Will, our instructor, is a former marine and was a MMA fighter before the UFC came along with their intrusive laundry list of rules (no eye gouges, no biting, etc). Will has this crazy notion that the bar needs to be set high from the very outset of training.
I had passed the test but felt like I had been used as chew toy at Michael Vick’s dog kennels for the next two days.
Will gave his motivational speech before the ground fighting and used the expected words– “manhood”, “protector”, “endurance”, and “gut check.” I was only half listening. But my head turned when he informed us that for we’d be ground fighting for one uninterrupted hour when we tested for our black shirts, and that fighting would come after we completed all the other elements of the exam.
My head turned because I’ve only been living my post-Doritos existence for less than a year.
There’s a common experience that writers with deadlines and pastors have: Feeling like you’re a rat caught in a maze, watching the walls close in on you. An escape route always presents itself at the last possible second, usually by tunneling through a family-sized bag of Ruffles. All the best ideas come after binge-eating. Shortly after earning that black belt I scored a pair of book contracts. Meanwhile the congregation I served experienced much growth to the point we had to build a new facility.
Gosh, I love chips.
Last winter, I looked at some photos of myself and was surprised by my bloated face, broad-hips, and narrow-shouldered frame. I dusted off the bathroom scales and was confronted with truth—dozens of extra pounds of truth.
It was about that time that I met Will and agreed to workout with him twice a week. Two months later, I had knocked the rust off my kicks and lost ten pounds. But I was still fat and had to consider the possibility that there was some mysterious relationship between my diet and my weight. I started keeping a food diary and limited myself to 1,800-2,000 calories per day. I now stress eat with carrots and Cliff Bars, which I’m sad to report, are two items which just can’t be called comfort food.
My experience of barely passing my yellow shirt motivated me to start jogging several times a week. Will and my private workouts eventually grew into a martial arts club. This led to a cast of weight lifters, former marines, and current state police officers enjoying the weekly experience of cleaning the mats with yours truly. I’ve added the beginnings of weight training to my regimen.
The result of all this exercise is that I’ve dropped a couple dozen pounds this year and have another to go. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll never mistake me for Chuck Norris. I’m a forty-year old pastor, husband, and father of three. My muscular structure is best described as “in-grown.” Eric Little ran and felt the presence of God; I run and feel lactic acid searing calf muscle. I come home most days and notice bruises on my arms and torso from boxing or grappling. Since I first started fighting, I’ve badly sprained an ankle, broken a nose, and sported a few black eyes. I’m no picture of indestructibility.
So, yes, I turned my head at Will’s announcement that I’d be fighting for an hour in what I’m guess will be three years in the future. I was surprised by the size of the challenge. But I was more surprised by my emotional response. There was no fear, no discouragement, and no panic; just a calm realization that someday I would be capable of fighting that long.
The Apostle Paul spilled a lot of ink comparing spiritual growth to physical training. He said that becoming like Jesus was like running a race or training for a fight. Paul wrote about being determined to win, but he admitted that the whole process of spiritual change was grueling. In Romans 7, Paul confessed he felt like he was at war with himself. I feel that way about my body every time I train. Paul wrote that become like Christ was like going twelve rounds with the part of him that had no intention of letting go of his self-centeredness.
Paul knew that physical and spiritual training is nothing like the montage scene that shows up in every Rocky Movie. You know the one: During the time it takes to play “Eye of the Tiger”, we see Rocky running through the streets of Philly, knocking down one-handed push ups, and throwing hooks into frozen sides of meat. The song fades and Rocky is fit, trim, and ready to make another comeback, all in 4:20 minutes.
Becoming spiritually fit is slow, unsexy work. Sanctification is a grind that lasts a lifetime which is why there is no adequate soundtrack to underscore it.
Paul was a realist and still he had the audacity to tell the believers in Philippi, that despite the ups and downs of living our their faith, that someday they would become complete. Paul didn’t say that it might happen or that he liked their odds. Paul was just calmly stating fact. He was that confident that God finishes what he starts.
I’m confident that in a few years I’m going to take to the mat and face that string of opponents– some of whom are state troopers and ex-marines (one is a former PSU starting linebacker)– most who will be stronger and younger, and I’m going to go the distance. I will become a black shirt in this fighting system. A lot of my confidence comes from my friendship with Will and being aware of the time and energy that he’s investing in me.
I’ve been connected to God through Jesus since I was a young child. But today I wrestle with pride, self, lust, and greed. Most days I wonder if I’m making progress.
But there’s Paul, saying that I will become like Jesus. I’m guessing that has everything to do with God, who like Will, is in my corner training me and cheering for me.
Larry Shallenberger is a pastor and writer in Erie, PA. His most recent book is Divine Intention: How God’s Work in the Early Church Empowers Us Today. You can visit Larry at www.larryshallenberger.com.