This semester I'm getting buff. I don't care what you say. I'm tired of the skinny jokes. I don't care if you think I have the body of a 12yr old boy, because I know for myself that I am capable of getting bigger. Regardless of the fact that I haven't gained any weight since sophomore year of high school (my drivers license weight might be more than I weigh now) and despite the fact that I can eat a crapload of food and not gain a single pound, I am determined to bulk up. Mario Lopez ain't got nothin on me baby!!
Hecka old school...
Anyways, one step I'm taking this semester towards my buns of steel is a PE class. Holla! Resistance training. It's legit, trust me. But on the first day, I show up at the gym expecting a big buff white guy to come inbut like, after about 20 minutes, no one shows up. We're just waiting there around the exercise machines like wtf is going on here. And then right when I'm finna bounce outta there because I was getting impatient, she walks in. Our resistance training teacher and purported fitness expert is... a skinny Chinese lady that seriously looks like she could be my aunt or something. She comes in rockin a jacket and some freakin 4inch heels and I'm like, you gotta be kidding me right? THIS is the person who's gonna get me to LL Cool J status? Yeah right...
So like, the lady takes role and turns out her name is Toni Mar and she talks a bunch about eating right and working out. So far, I'm not quite sold. Then... Oh man, it's crazy. She takes off her jacket and exposes these BIGOLE GUNS (/gigole buns) dude. It's ridiculous. Like you can see the veins and everything. I mean, she's not like disgustingly buff, but her arms are pretty dang ripped. And I'm like, omg Toni Mar you're my idol. The woman can probably destroy me.
These days, when I show up for resistance training, I would trust Toni Mar with my life. Haha.
Anyways, I've been thinking a lot about this lately, how I really expect and want God to be one way, when He's probably the complete opposite of what I'm looking for. I'm asking God to make me buff, to answer my prayers, to solve all my problems. I'm doing all the exercises, but I know I'm doing them wrong--I don't see the results, I'm not getting any buffer. I want God to be the big buff white guy, to work miracles, to show me how crazy buff he is and what amazing things he can do. But God just comes in, barely noticable, as this skinny chinky lady and I'm like, God, are you freals? Jesus, this has got to be a joke or something. There is no way I'm gonna grow spiritually with this workout plan. Things keep going wrong, I'm tired, I feel inadequate, and THIS is what's gonna bring me closer to you? It's not worth it. And here I am, a small group leader in a college fellowship, trying to help other people get spiritually buff when I can barely do it myself.
...But soon enough, God will take off his jacket and his guns will be revealed in all their glory. We'll bow down and I'll forget that I ever doubted him and what He's capable of. But for now, I'm tired and I'm doubting myself. I know God is capable of miracles, even the miracle of using a jabroni like me to teach His word.
If Toni Mar can make a scrawny Asian kid a little bigger, God can take a cynical fool and make him into a temple of the Holy Spirit. Real talk.