on gymnastics
August 8, 2008 was the opening of the Beijing Olympics. It was a day I had waited eagerly for since Carly Patterson stole my heart in the 2004 Olympic Women’s Gymnastics.
After Carly, I started gymnastics classes, read gymnastics books, watched all the videos and checked out everything gymnastics from the library over and over again. I breathed gymnastics. I dreamed of making it to the Olympics. My pre-teen journals are full of prayers to be noticed by my coaches, to accomplish the next skill, to win medals. I felt the bounce of the floor in my sleep, day-dreamed of circling the bars and gracing the beam.
Things changed in 2008 when, at 13, I decided to give up gymnastics because I felt that God did not want me invested in something shallow, with no eternal value. For years, this story of surrendering gymnastics for Jesus was my testimony, my all-in moment. I was confident in my decision, and never looked back, until now.
Looking back, I know my Olympic dreams were never viable anyway; I’m about a foot taller than the gymnast who enraptured me at the Beijing Olympics. And looking back, I am still glad I chose to pursue other things because the life I’ve lived has been astounding and I am grateful.
But looking back, I also have begun to see that when I gave up gymnastics for God, I gave up much more. I gave up that deep connection with my body. I gave up the affirmation of doing something just because I loved it. I shut down some very natural, physical part of me and told myself that was what God wanted.
So just a few weeks ago, 13 years after my choice to leave gymnastics, I went back. I stepped back into the gym for an adult class, and a crazy feeling washed over me. I only know how to describe in physical terms: my toes wanted to point as I walked, just like Nadia Comaneci. My hands remembered their positioning. When I ran across the floor and tumbled into a round-off, it felt exactly how it had felt in my mind for the past 13 years.
I am not going to the Olympics. But I’ll be working toward something worth far more than a gold medal. I can’t exactly name it yet, but it might be embodiment, acceptance, wholeness, joy.
one of those unsung painful things from a childhood in conservative christianity (you and i met at Teenpact so we had similar backgrounds i believe) is the fact that the church has a tendency to assign a natural love/passion in a child for something like gymnastics, or bees, or the Spanish language, or literally anything that's not the Bible itself.... as "loving the world". Or some kind of twisted passion for shallow things. Something that we have to give up, in the guise of dying to self, for the glory of God. If we are allowed to keep it, it's twisted in such a way that it can be used missionally. Taking this field for Christ, etc. That pure love of something that i remember as a kid- i felt it for music and singing - is treated as a deep flaw and poison- something that you love more than God. Everything i started to love, i was immediately worried i loved it more than i should. Hobbies, books, pets. Nothing could come before God, and I didn't know how not to love these things that were a lot closer than God was. I wept over my pride in my voice and singing and music. I felt deeply (according to everything i was taught) that the best way to serve God might be to give up this thing that I loved, for Him. (sidenote: when did this asceticism infiltrate conservative Christianity- was it always there? you would know better than I). I never gave up music but it was tormented for so long. i was lucky- music is an easy avenue to traditional worship. I was on the worship team. So many passions aren't available in church, and they are seen as distractions at best. it makes me so sad that kids are taught to distrust their heart and their instinctive loves and passions. I really hope gymnastics is something you can take back and find joy in again!
ReplyDeleteShelby this is so beautiful! I am so glad you're reclaiming things that bring you joy.
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