Wednesday, June 21, 2017

What Kevin Hart, Kendrick Lamar, and Jesus teach about humility

"Everybody wants to be famous, but no one wants to do the work."
-Kevin Hart

I'm waiting for my Zumba class to start. Actually, I'm waiting to see if anyone will show at all. It seems most of my experience as an instructor has been in small facilities with small class sizes: like 2-3 people kind of small. That's a far cry from the image many people have of being a fitness professional. As with most things, there's expectation and then there's reality.

What do people expect? Well, they expect the sexy and the glamorous because fitness is so "in" now. They expect thousands of Instagram followers, fitness videos on the explore page, and beach boot camps in Cozumel. They expect their athleticism to earn them sponsorships and discount codes on high end Lululemon gear, especially the cute mesh leggings that are all the rage right now. Maybe if they're in the dance fitness world, they expect to be "Zumba's next rising star," (yes, that's actually a thing), be on DVD covers, and to lead stadiums full of neon clad enthusiasts in single, single double. Low key, that's kind of what I expected.

Expectation is quite different than reality though. Reality is humbling and perhaps it should be. Without realizing it, a touch of arrogance had snuck up on me. It's hard for it not to in a world where everyone is their own "brand" and everybody wants to be great. This attitude, of course, is nothing new. Social media is new, but the human desire for fame and glory is not. Take the disciples for instance.

In Mark 9, Jesus asked them what they had been arguing about on the road. They didn't say anything because they had been arguing about who among them was the greatest. Even without them responding, He discerned their hearts and said, "If anyone desires to be first, he shall be the last of all and servant of all," (v. 35). To me, this sounds like the divine precursor to Kendrick Lamar's, "Be humble, sit down" message of 2017.

Don't get me wrong. The glory moments are cool. I anticipate one this weekend- on stage leading a crowd of easily 50+ people in dance. But those moments are few and far between. And they aren't the moments that make someone great. It's in the moments of obscurity. It's in the times when I'm not really feeling it, lead a solid workout anyway, and make a single person's day. Maybe not even that. Maybe true greatness is expressed when I push aside all the presumed specialness of my gifts, degrees, and credentials and clean the mats. Like literally bust out the cleanser, the towels, and start scrubbing. In fact, maybe I'll pause now and do that.