Sometimes I'm not sure whether I'm a lifter who teaches Greek or a teacher who lifts weights. The two have become inseparable in my life. I cannot teach others to exercise discipline (in learning to master a truly difficult language) without teaching myself to exercise discipline (in learning a hobby as physically and mentally demanding as lifting). Dividing my athletic life from my intellectual life would be as easy as splitting a piece of plywood.
When I teach, I am the expert. When I lift, I become the student. When I write a book or even a blog post, I begin with an idea. Then I allow that idea to percolate. I will occasionally inspect it. If it stands up to scrutiny, a book or blog eventuates as a finished product.
What writing is to my intellectual life, lifting is to my physical life. You ask yourself, "Do I really need to be fit?" In my case, the answer is a clear yes. And when that certainty strikes you, you accept the challenge eagerly.
Neither writing nor lifting is easy. And no matter how well you do either of them, you are never satisfied. Regardless, the idea of effort is natural to both.
The Christian, for all he talks about heaven and the afterlife, knows that the here-and-now has infinite possibilities. He lives on full alert for the opportunities. Even if a man had no reason to believe in God, he would still invent a reason to get the most out of the game of life. The ancient injunction "Know thyself" still applies.
And the best way to know yourself is through an analysis of your God-given gifts and callings. Who I am is no mystery. I am a teacher. I am an athlete. Neither were accidental choices on my part.
A philosopher once said, "Man reveals himself through his body." Paul wrote, "And so dear brothers, I plead with you to give your bodies to God. Let them be a living sacrifice, holy -- the kind he can accept. When you think of what he has done for you, is that too much to ask?" (Rom. 12:1, TLB). The believer answers, "No, it is not."
When I draw a portrait, I am concerned simply with the physical aspect of the person.
Yet in that portrait, a person's soul reveals itself.
We are all, in the words of 1 Thess. 5:23, "body, soul, and spirit." Even the staunchest dichotomist will accept that we are at least material and immaterial beings.
My body shows you who I am.
Who are you?
Take a look in the mirror.