I am a clown. Now, I know that this will not come as a surprise to many people! I tend to walk on the weird side and am completely OK being a fool for Christ. However, the kind of clowning I am referring to is Christian Clowning. White faces to signify dying to oneself to "put on Christ". Movement and music to convey the message God choose to give to his people. I am blessed to be inparted with this gift.
I have taught many people clowning, some willingly and some unwillingly. It's always fun to watch the reactions as I teach someone who is not graceful to be graceful. I have had the opportunities to work with some amazing people who had a gift for this ministry. I have also been challenged to work with those whose response to my teaching led others to believe that they were being held against their will.
Perhaps the best compliment that I have ever received came from a young man who, after completing a very somber song about the crucifixion and resurrection, told me "You've found my inner clown!". I tuck that away in my heart for darker days.
In all travels to teach clowning and all of the people that I have had the chance to be in ministry with, I have stumbled across a contagious, fast-growing affliction. It seizes the victim and renders them unable to raise their arms in praise. I have named it SAS, "Saggy Arm Syndrome". It strikes without regard for age or gender. SAS can be transient depending on the sleep deprivation level and snack intake. I am working diligently to form a foundation whose sole focus will be to irradicate this disorder and am looking for a date to schedule a walk to raise awareness of SAS.
My strong feelings come from my firm belief that God made most of us with the ability to raise our arms straight up to praise Him. God gives us everything; we can give Him all of our praise. I am not only the head of SAS, but I am also a sufferer.
The biggest clowning ministry program we share is our Good Friday service. Hours of preparation and practice are put in to depict Jesus' ministry, crucifixion and resurrection that bought our salvation. For too many years, I had taken for granted the ability to raise my arms all the way above my head and walk. That all ended this year during Holy Week when I decided, in a moment of irrational thought, to start my personal training sessions. As I walked into the gym for my first session with my personal trainer (PT), he asked me if I was ready for this. I gulped and honestly said, "no". Never has a truer word been spoken! PT worked me so hard that day I almost didn't make it to the car. That was a walk in the park compared to the tight muscles and pain I enjoyed throughout the rest of the week. Every day brought a new ache and I tried everything to get some relief - cold packs, hot packs, ibuprofen, prayer - to no avail. The second session, which fell on Maundy Thursday, PT showed me some stretches that helped me bend my arms and my legs. By Good Friday, I was marginally functional and ready to put on the white. I am not proud to say that I did succomb to SAS that week. It was a dark day for me. However, PT did promise that the first workout would be the toughest. PT needed to see how far I could be pushed. Every workout after has been easier than the first day. I have still had workouts that have left me tired and/or sore, but I compare them to the first day and realize it's only mild discomfort.
Due to PT's schedule, we have begun training one day a week at 6 a.m. Yes, that's right -- in the morning. This is not ideal, but the up side is that I am at the gym for half an hour before I realize where I am! This week I wandered in to the gym, hopped on a stationary bike to warm up and await further instruction. I didn't have to wait long. PT announced that we were going to do some bench pressing today. I would have been less surprised if PT had told me that I was going to learn how to build a combustion engine! If my training sessions have taught me (and PT) anything, it's that I have very little upper body strength. I am impressed at just how weeny I really am. I am now very envious of children going across the monkey bars supporting all of their body weight with their arms. I got up and followed PT to the weights. After some basic instructions, which included "don't drop it on your throat" - which was an important safety tip - I was handed the bar. Without extra weights added to the sides, the bar weights 45 pounds. That means 22 pounds per arm. (I am not really sure where the other pound goes. I'm still looking for it. I will keep you posted.) PT lowers the bar and I use every ounce of arm strength not to drop it on my throat! Wow, 45 pounds is really heavy when you are laying on your back supporting it with your non-existent arm muscles. I did some reps and the bar wobbled as I hoisted it up and down. I am sure it wasn't pretty, although it may have been humorous to bystanders. Push ups from a standing position and more weight lifting with a crazy, bendy bar were interspersed with three minutes on the bike. After the abdominal weight machines, I was dismissed to cool down and start the rest of my day.
Oh my gracious! My arms didn't really hurt, but the muscles were so fatigued that I could barely lift my gym bag and carry it to the car. At home, I jumped in the shower only to find that I had Stage 4 Saggy Arm Syndome. It was easier to lower my head to my waist to shampoo and condition my hair than it was to raise my arms to reach my head. Good thing I don't have a long, involved hair styling routine or I would have had to call in sick to work!
One of my coworkers laughed at my inability to take off my jacket and reminded me that it might not hurt too much now, but wait until tomorrow. Those prophetic words floated to the surface of my consciousness the next morning as I tried to use my hand to shut off my alarm clock. Good thing I had washed my hair the day before because that would have been categorized in the same column as climb Mt. Everest and throw a dinner party for 500 people serving only laffy taffy and spray cheese.
As uncomfortable as my shoulders, back, arms and hands were for about three days, I also took satisfaction in knowing that I was once again making strides toward a more overall fitness level. In many parts of our lives, we don't grow and move forward unless we stretch ourselves beyond our comfort zone. Our faith walk will never move forward if we are unwilling to travel past what we can see. Our palate will never expand if we are do not try new tastes. Muscles will never develop if we never work them. Knowledge will never be acquired if we don't learn new and exciting things.
The phrase I use to let my clowns know that they have gone an amazing job of leading worship is "there is no SAS in sight". Arms were raised; hearts were raised as we praised an awesome God. We gave it everything we had and pushed our comfort zone a little further than we had ever ventured before. It simply means, well done.
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