“…you are shockingly fit.” These are the words from a young man who happened to be in the weight room at the same time I was in the fall semester of 2021. Of course, this was a semester in which COVID containment measures were plentiful. Student times were separated from faculty and staff times in our wellness center. Consequently, the student wasn’t supposed to be in the gym – I distinctly remember his attire. He had on white, calf-high socks, classic Birkenstocks, basketball shorts, and a short-sleeved button-down shirt – not exactly the ubiquitous Under Armor or Lululemon of most 20-something gym-goers on our campus. Nevertheless, I smiled and thanked him for his compliment.
I confess that being observed by others is a bit unnerving. My formal education is in exercise physiology. I was a collegiate athlete, and I do participate in regular exercise, so the gym isn’t as intimidating for me as it can be for others. However, I’m also well into my fifth decade of life, and, like many of my quadragenarian (and older) friends, anonymity in a fitness facility is my strong preference. I have told myself that this was simply a one-off and that students could care less about someone their dad’s age exercising alongside them. Unfortunately, in the past few semesters, a few more students asked me about my training regimen. I say “unfortunately” because the idea that I was chugging along in relative obscurity was being challenged. It made me feel more uneasy.
I realize that getting compliments from students about (their perception of) my fitness level should be encouraging. Yet, I still find myself preferring privacy. This preference extends itself to other areas as well – I really enjoy napping and have a unique eating pattern, but for some reason, I don’t feel particularly comfortable sharing that information. These feelings have caused me to reflect on the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 11: “Do as I do, for I am doing as Christ did.” As a pastor’s kid from rural Ohio, “doing as Christ did” feels like a noble exhortation, but “do as I do” sounds a tad haughty to my Midwestern ears. Why didn’t Paul simply say “Be like Jesus”? Wouldn’t that have not been a safer, clearer command over against “Do as I do”?
To be fair to Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, he did tell them to be imitators of God (5:1). But I think Paul’s inspired words to the Corinthians contain some pedagogical wisdom for us as educators. Whenever I choose to share part of my story with my students, in or outside of the classroom, they are often captivated. Last semester I was giving a primer in my general health course on healthy sleep behaviors. Two of my male students were enthralled in hearing that one’s sleep schedule significantly impacts one’s sleep quality and feelings of energy upon waking. Their interest was piqued by assertions and some data, but they were fascinated by my own story. I explained how I had been working hard to schedule my day to allow for an early bedtime and an early rise. These allowed me time for a morning training session and I explained that this was a brand-new pattern for me as I am decidedly not “a morning person.” Several students looked at me wide-eyed as I described getting up around 5:30 AM to train on the weekdays given my life stage and family dynamics. It is hard for most of my freshmen students to fathom getting up at 5:30 in the morning, mainly because a 9PM or 10PM bedtime is unconscionable. These personal anecdotes provided a great springboard into larger concepts of the good life, FOMO, navigating life as a freshman with less parental oversight, discipline, prioritization, life balance, etc.
As I reflect more on sharing parts of my story with students, I’ve come to realize that this, in a way, is my way of encouraging students to “do as I do.” I don’t phrase it as Paul did, but I maintain the same telos. I’ve lived decades more than they have (virtually every student I have is “traditional”). I’ve balanced schedules which included—when I was their age—academics, athletics, and a job. Now, with a wife and four school-aged children, I have substantially more time-intensive blessings in my life. In short, I have gained wisdom through an amazing spouse, friends, and family who are older and wiser than me, through the indwelling Spirit and study of the Word, and through simply navigating life. In my teaching then, I am attempting to share the wisdom I’ve gleaned not only by providing compelling data from large meta-analyses on health behaviors and the benefits thereof but by providing examples of behaviors that I believe will lead them closer to the good life.
Doubling back to the virtue of humility, I feel compelled to provide more of the story with which I began. The interestingly attired student in the gym did suggest I had a good level of fitness, however, he qualified that comment with “You know, for a faculty member, you are shockingly fit.” I think he was trying to compliment me, but as we faculty aren’t exactly known for our physical prowess, I may never know. And, while I still prefer exercising privately, I hope I can be an example to our students in my small ways (and the Lord knows, as do my students, that my life has plenty of examples of how not to live well). Similarly, as we begin our new years and new semesters, with all their traditional prioritization practices and goal-setting, may we all work out our faith and let our Light shine before our students, not just telling them how they might live well, but showing them personal examples of how to glorify God in heaven.
