I love me some Jesus. I do.
Do you know me in real life? Then you probably know this already. You know that I believe that Jesus is the only son of God, who lived to show us what our loving Creator was like, died to show how deeply He wanted to be with us, and came back from the dead to show how impossibly, miraculously powerful He is.
That’s what I believe.[As an aside, I don’t need you to believe it to be friends with you. I’d be thrilled if you did, but it’s not a requirement. I just need you to not be a complete jerk. Honestly, even if you are a complete jerk, I’ll probably still be your friend. I’m notoriously slow to make friends, and even slower to dump them. ]
Shockingly, I don’t believe stretching and deep breathing is incompatible with believing in and following Jesus. I believe it helps me sync up and slow down my body and my brain so I don’t smack into things as often. Smacking into things tends to make me curse, so that’s probably good for my spiritual wellbeing, on the whole.
If I’m stretching and breathing in a room that smells like incense, I’m usually grateful that it doesn’t smell like sweat, because sweat, quite frankly, stinks. Stinky sweat is especially bad when the teacher keeps insisting you BREATHE. MORE. DEEPLY.
I’m less grateful if there’s some sort of water dribbly thing in the room, because those make me need to pee, which is really inconvenient in the middle of a workout. (Note to yoga teachers out there: We can’t “relax into the pose” when we need to pee. Just saying.)
The brightness of the lights I can go either way on. On the one hand, dim lights make me less concerned about the size of my ginormous butt.
Then again, I like to be able to see well enough to avoid falling into (and potentially crushing) the tiny, flexible geriatric lady next to me. Which I know from experience is embarrassing, and prone to making you avoid the YMCA for a few weeks.
Then again, I felt extreme envy towards the geriatric lady, with her tiny butt and flexible-if-porous bones. So maybe I unconsciously wanted to squish her, which probably wasn’t very Christ-like of me. I’m pretty sure Jesus never thought “Peter, I hate you. All that lifting fishing nets has given you ridiculous biceps.”
So maybe Mohler has a point. Yoga promotes giant-butt-self-consciousness, which promotes envy of your skinny, flexible fellow classmates, and envy is a sin.
But by that logic, I’d have to stop going to church, too, because every Sunday I end up coveting my neighbors’ awesome outfits. Worshipping with mostly twentysomething hipsters is not great for your fashion envy character flaws. But I digress.
This is all, of course, my completely unprofessional opinion. I am neither a theologian nor a yogi. I practice yoga mainly with videos at home, having only been to a handful of real classes, thus I’m not a “real yogi.” I lack the necessary advanced degrees to have a valid theological opinion.
So really, it’s not that my opinion matters at all to either camp, yogis or theologians.
Will that stop yogis and theologians from dropping comments telling me how wrong I am? No.
The fact that almost nobody reads this blog will stop yogis and theologians from dropping any comments. 😉
Lastly, if Albert Mohler could kindly stop tacking on things I absolutely, positively have to agree with him about in order to qualify as a “real Christian,” that’d be just fantastic.