crucifixion

I almost gave up rolling in jiu-jitsu for Lent

I’ve been struggling with a shoulder injury, which I sustained in jiu-jitsu, for quite some time. Last month, however, it took a significant turn for the worse. Normally, I simply train around my injuries, which, considering I’m almost forty-seven, may be why my shoulder has never really healed. The nagging and progressive nature of this injury has had me worried, though. 

As we entered the season of Lent, it occurred to me that it may be a good idea to give up rolling (sparring in jiu-jitsu) for Lent. Considering the fact that rolling is my favorite part of jiu-jitsu, I knew that this was going to be a big sacrifice for me. In fact, aside from when I was in a car accident nine years ago and when we were in the lockdown phase of covid, this would be the longest I have ever not rolled since I started jiu-jitsu in 2012. 

In the beginning, it was relatively easy because my shoulder and neck were in so much pain that the idea of rolling was actually frightening. As I started to get better, however, as a result of rest, foam-rolling, stretching, massage, and multiple visits to a chiropractor, I began testing the waters a little bit on the mats. 

At first, I tried only flow-rolling and only with purple belts or higher. After a few classes of that, I tried only playing guard and asking my partners to reset back to neutral if and when they passed my guard. Then, I started rolling with people but not submitting them, telling myself that it’s not rolling if I’m not using submissions. 

A dozen loopholes and self-justifications later, I realized that I had broken my Lenten vow. Then came the excuses. “I’m not actually Catholic,” I told myself, “My church doesn’t preach or practice Lent.” 

“Does God really care whether or not I roll?” I asked. 

“It’s just jiu-jitsu,” I said, “What’s the big deal?” 

But I could feel that something was off. My spiritual condition began to suffer and I just didn’t feel right. At first, I thought it was simply the fact that I’m in pain almost all of the time from my shoulder, but I knew there was more going on than that. 

Then I recalled the story from Matthew 26:36-46 when Jesus took his disciples to Gethsemane to pray. He tells them that “[his] soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death (38)” and asks them to keep watch with him. He goes off to pray three times and, all three times, he comes back to find them sleeping. Jesus is about to be crucified for the sins of the world and his disciples couldn’t even stay awake to keep watch with him for an hour. 

As I recalled this story, my heart sunk. I couldn’t even give up rolling for a month. That’s how weak I am. That’s how easily I give into temptation and how quickly I “fell asleep” while my Lord and Savior prepares to be crucified so that I may be saved. Jesus gave his life for me and I couldn’t even give him a month of my time and faithfulness. Thank the good Lord for his forgiveness and mercy. Heaven knows I do not deserve it. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations on God and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

It’s hard to drive like a jerk while Jesus is on the radio but it’s not impossible.

It’s hard to drive like a jerk while Jesus is on the radio, but it’s not impossible. In fact, I realized today that I do it quite often. Realized may not be the right word, however. It’s more like I was informed today that I do this quite often and I was unable to deny it. 

While driving back from a day-trip to the beach with my family, I found myself getting annoyed at another driver who was driving aggressively. My instinct, an unfortunate result of spending too many years driving in and around Washington D.C., was to match his aggression. When he started to pass me, I began to speed up. As I did, I was struck by the irony of the situation. 

On the radio, I was listening to Christian music. “How can you drive like a jerk,” an inner voice asked, “While listening to music about Jesus?” As soon as this thought crossed my mind, I began to slow down. I really don’t want to drive like a jerk. I know it’s not safe or even necessary, and I am sure not being a good representative of Christ in the world when I do. 

I remember hearing author Seth Godin say once that it’s not that the other driver cut us off that’s the problem, it’s the story we tell ourselves about the other driver cutting us off that’s the problem. We tell ourselves stories about the driver, we tell ourselves stories about ourselves, and we tell ourselves stories about why the other driver doing this thing to us. But these stories are mostly pride’s way of justifying our un-Christlike behavior so that we don’t have to change. 

Pride is a powerful tool of the devil and I’m as susceptible to it as anyone. That’s one of the many reasons I need Jesus. Left to my own devices, I will always choose to retaliate against perceived slights and challenges to my ego no matter the risk to my life, the lives of those in the car with me, or the lives of the other driver. But Jesus challenges this mentality and this behavior. 

Jesus asks me to do better, to make better choices, and to treat others better. He asks me to love my enemy, even my imagined enemies, and even my enemies on the road. In a strange way, I should really be thankful for aggressive drivers because they present me with an opportunity to practice this love of my enemies through the example of Christ Jesus who, even while he was dying on the cross, asked God to forgive his persecutors and all of us along with them. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.