“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”

1 Corinthians 9:25

It’s very hard to discuss self-discipline and ambition with peers who are attempting to recover genuine spirituality from legalistic tradition. Defenses raise up the minute you toss phrases like “spiritual discipline” or “goals.” Having been raised in the church and discovering as a teen that there’s power to be had in religious performance,I get this. It took me into my college years to realize that God wasn’t moved by all with my grocery list of spiritual accomplishments. Grace is tautological:He loved me because he loved me. I’m happy to be caught up in God’s circular reasoning. So why would I ruin a good thing with more unnecessary expectations?

But that’s exactly the discussion that Paul was attempting in 1 Corinthians 9. Paul spent much of his career sparring with believers who considered obedience to Jewish religious customs to a requisite for Salvation. According to these thinkers, you need to follow Jesus and maintain a long list of spiritual disciplines.

So isn’t it strange for Paul to mock legalistic only to turn around use the language of Olympic athletes… running long miles, boxing, beating your body? At first glance it feels like Paul is just swapping a tradition form of legalism for one of his own liking.

I’ve mentioned in another post that I’m working on my second black belt. My first black belt is in tae kwon do and I’m working on a second in a mixed martial arts system. I’m at a place in the training that I despise. I’m just past the halfway mark, and I have about eighteen more months of training to go. I remember the feeling from the last belt, the thought that I’ll never get there.

I’m not enjoying the training right now. Last Saturday I took a shot to the mouth. I still can’t bite into an apple. My incisors are chipped and I lost a filling. Not looking forward to explaining this to my dentist on Monday. I felt a pit in my stomach when I read text telling me to bring my gloves to the workout this AM. Fear never goes away. I’m hobbling around a bit today because my sparring partner missed the focus mitt and kicked my thigh (David, I’m close to being sorry for the names I called you this morning). I’m tired of the morning heavy bag workouts.

I’ve thought of quitting. The truth is, I’m never going to be a cage fighter. I’m forty-years-old and frankly, I’m just not strong enough excel in the sport.I’ve never aspired to having the pooh beaten out of me. So why put myself through this?

I love the game. I used to think MMA was this barbaric game for thugs. But it really is a thinking man’s game– it’s speed chess with gloves. The only way I get to play the game, even at a low level I do, is to make lifestyle changes. I can’t eat what I’d prefer to eat. I need to add muscle, loose fat, and work on my flexibility. Self denial increases my freedom.

So what is Paul doing?

He’s inviting people into an elite contest. Paul is suggesting that building the kingdom of heaven is as demanding as being an Olympic athlete. Kingdom building requires discipline and focused training.

Paul uses ominous language. It’s possible to disqualify yourself. Paul approaches spiritual disciplines with the same intensive of a runner who knows there’s only one medal waiting at finish line. Paul is being smug or self-righteous. He just know the truth; only a handful of people end their lives satisfied with the impact they’ve left on those around them. Only a few people die knowing that they’ve loved, created, or influenced enough.

So Paul takes the risk of being mistaken for being legalistic and tells the church to get control of how they spend their time, how they use their bodies, and what directions they point their lives.God has invited us to participate in the games.

We’ve been given God-shaped dreams. Yours might be to fight an injustice, or to create art. Yours might be to be an excellent parent, to reclaim a blighted neighborhood, or to write poetry that awakens people.

Paul reminds us that dreams mature into intentions and goals; goals must manifest themselves as objectives; and objectives must be achieved with energy and endurance.

(This is cross posted at Burnside Writer’s Collective)

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.

I’m sitting in front of my TV, watching CBS wade into the world of Mixed Martial Arts. It’s amazing that just a handful of years ago, this sport was unknown and unwelcome in many states.

This year I’ve begun to wade into Mixed Martial Arts training.

Don’t be too impressed. I’m nearly forty-years-old. I’m sporting a bit of a gut from years of being glued to my lap top writing books.

I few months ago I met a new family at guy. Making conversation, Will mentioned that he had a martial arts background. I’ve got a black belt in taekwondo. I asked him what his background and he listed seven or eight disciplines. What he didn’t tell me is that he was also a USMC combat instructor and ran one of the first UFC endorsed martial arts schools.

We decided that we both needed to get into shape. We met in the early morning to train and do some “light sparring.”

I’m trained in Olympic style fighting so my goal was to kick his ribs and head while avoiding getting struck. There are no points for punches. There’s no ground game, no grappling, or clinching. It’s fencing with your feet. What I learned, very quickly, is that Will had no such limits. He grabbed, kicked below the hips (a TKD no-no), and stomped on feet when he could. Oh, Will’s fighting tradition definitely includes a ground game.

I went home sore and in need of Aspirin.

Over the past few months I’ve been thinking a lot about the differences between our fighting cultures. Culture sets priorities. My fighting tradition is has been domesticated by Western culture and the Olympic committee. That culture shapes my goals– score more points than your opponent. Will’s fighting culture was birthed in the Marines. The goal was different– disable or destroy your opponent so you can go home at the end of the day.

Thinking about fighting has made me aware of how my cultural background shapes my goals, in ways that I’m not even aware of. I’ve got a church background , which provides an odd mix of being aware of God but also distracted by tradition. I’ve got thirty-nine years of experience living in a consumer culture. I’m a white suburbanite. Certainly all of those cultural influences shape my priorities. And I wonder how I can know which of the cultural forces is driving me at any given moment. When am I acting as a Christ-follower? Or when am I being an all too willing consumer?

Perhaps clarity comes when, like with my training with Will, I choose to engage people from different cultures and have to think more intentionally about my next move.

Larry Shallenberger is the author of Divine Intention: How God’s Work in the Early Church Empowers Us Today.