We walked up stairs into a small, blue room. A woman was sitting behind the desk and welcomed us warmly as Kenyans were passing by – freshly changed into workout clothes with a look of excitement on their faces. Michelle and I were with her friend Emily who lives in Tigoni, a small tea town outside Nairobi, Kenya. We were on a fitness adventure, unsure of what we were getting into. A “workout class” was what we signed up for, and Emily had a sly grin on her face accompanied by the words “you’ll love it.”
We walked into a room with windows looking out on the town, a big mirror in the front of the class, and a sign that read: “Sweat is fat crying.”
The clock struck and 90’s music to a techno beat started playing. Loudly. The class teacher closed the windows, and started moving. We were urged to follow along. All the members (who evidently take this class regularly) hopped into the workout on beat and started following the leader. We were in for a treat.
Clap clap. One two three. Lift. Kick. Turn. Twirl. Thrust. Jump. One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve…
Just think about what it smells like in a room full of very sweaty people. With minimal, if any deodorant. Without air flow. Jumping and turning and kicking and bouncing around. In a small room. For an hour.
Michelle and I do fitness as a profession, and those Kenyans really crushed it. We were the most sweaty we’ve maybe ever been, and our little sweat oceans on the floor smiled at us with approval.
When class started, we looked around and all the faces in the room were strangers. When class ended, we were hugging each other, high fiving, and throughly enjoying congratulating each other on surviving. Not just Michelle, Emily, and I as our little white American girls group, but with all the locals! We had been paired up near the end of class and counted for our partners. We cheered each other on. We held each other’s feet while the other partner did sit-ups. We were in the same arena. Going for the same prize.
Have you ever walked in some place feeling completely unsure? Can you feel the warmth of leaving a room feeling known, cheered on, and accepted? I certainly did in that moment as we descended the stairs and emerged onto the dusty street.
WOW. What a learning point for me.
I’ve been taught, “laughter is universal.” Laughter crosses cultures and breaks down barriers around the world. But, I learned in that hour of jumping, sweat is also universal.
In Tigoni, sweat helped Michelle and I feel accepted into the “new.” It also created a common bond from which we were able to encourage each other to keep going. To keep pushing through.
How often do you see someone in the same arena and cheer them on? How often are our commonalities overlooked because of competition or personal gain? What if we put ourselves in the same room with people we didn’t know and didn’t have anything in common with and found one thing to bring us together?
The affirmation I received during and after that exercise class, far around the world from my home, has fueled my heart to connect with people through different avenues. In a workout, sitting in an airport, at a coffee shop, passing along the sidewalk. Also, I realize it is important to place myself in diverse situations to learn a new name or to give a new hug.
Maybe that’s why I’m so concerned for the American church. I’ve noticed the American church standing in a room full of people we already know. In comfort. In programs and activities hosted inside a building. Not with people in a strange place, where we clearly are the minority and where we are kinda uncomfortable.
Do we as the church believe God creates common bonds among people, cultures, and languages? I do. And, I am affirmed of my place in Watkinsville, GA where I am able to lead people through workouts for a living (sweat) as well as my church community here in Athens. But, I’m also convicted to take a step out of my normal to be in different places doing different things.
I’m called to step out from the comfort of my home gym, of my job, of my inner circle and learn how to be that person who finds herself boxed in a room with ten Kenyans who leave feeling accomplished, accepted, and loved. And, praying for everyone as we part ways.
I challenge you, reader, to choose a new _______ this week. A new space. A new adventure. A new coffee date. A new routine. Choose the new in order to speak life into someone you ordinarily wouldn’t bump elbows with.
The Joy of Serving 