On November 15, 2015, UFC Women’s Bantamweight champion Ronda Rousey entered her sixth title defense against heavy underdog Holly Holm. Just 59 seconds into the second round, Holm shocked the world when she landed a left kick to Rousey’s jaw, knocking the champ unconscious and ending her three-year reign on top of the sport.
MMA fighting moved on. The sports world in general moved on. The fans moved on. Rousey, however, didn’t. She appeared on the Ellen DeGeneres Show on February 16, 2016, delivering these brutally honest words:
Honestly, my thought in the medical room, I was sitting in the corner and was like, "What am I anymore if I'm not this?" And I’m literally sitting there thinking about killing myself. In that exact second, I'm like, "I'm nothing. What do I do anymore? No one gives a s--- about me anymore without this. [edited for profanity]
Confession time: my initial, gut reaction when I heard this on ESPN, was to roll my eyes. “Get over it,” I muttered, probably accompanied by some complaint about how much professional athletes get paid to win or lose at a “game” (we Christians are especially self-righteous when it comes to professional athletes).
But then, it hit me. Once I cut through my smug self-righteousness and stopped thinking about Ronda Rousey - the defeated ex-champion - I thought about Ronda Rousey - the human being. I get it. Because I’m just like her.
Really, I am. Now, I haven’t contemplated suicide, but Rousey’s question, “What am I anymore if I’m not this?” is exactly the same question I’ve asked myself in recent months. I search for meaning in what I do. I define my worth by my performance in various avenues of life. I am a preacher. I am a teacher. This extends to my roles as husband and father as well. I extract worth from perceived successes in these various arenas of life and think less of myself when I fail in one of these areas.
The thing about this thinking is that it’s not unnatural. In fact, it’s the way of the world. The way of normal, everyday life. We are defined by what we do. We search for happiness, meaning, and acceptance in our performance. It even manifests itself in the church. My Twitter feed is an endless barrage of “Ten steps to being a better pastor.” Blog after blog after blog tells me what successful preachers do (or don’t do) and what unsuccessful ones do (or don’t do). Each Sunday, most Christians receive yet another checklist from the pulpit, the Bible being primarily used as a moralistic guidebook in the never-ending rat race to "live the abundant life."
So yes, I'm like her. The very fiber of my being is inundated with performancism. Guess what? You’re just like her too.
Things will really start to look up for you when you get that promotion. Your life would be complete if he’d call you back. If your kids can turn out okay, then you’ll have officially “made it.” The merry-go-round never stops. There’s always more people to please, more steps to follow, and more goals to achieve. And when everything you’ve worked for, you’ve built yourself up to be, you’ve defined yourself as being, is taken away with a kick to the jaw, how can you blame her for a fleeting thought of despair?
Here’s one thing I’m learning about Jesus, and one reason that Ronda Rousey is closer to the Gospel now than she was ten seconds before getting her lights knocked out. I’ve been taught most of my life that Jesus is in the business of helping us set goals, achieve dreams, become stronger, and become successful. I don’t believe that anymore. I’ve sinned, suffered, and struggled too much already. I’m terrible with to-do-lists and can’t do the “ten steps to a better life” sermons anymore. Instead, as life has knocked me on my back I’ve realized something different about Jesus: He’s in the business of allowing us to get knocked out. He brings us to the absolute end of ourselves, where we are laying flat on our backs, watching everything into which we’ve placed our meaning fade to nothing.
We realize how sinful we really are, and how we can't seem to shake it. We devastatingly face the fact that the promotion doesn't satisfy. The person we married didn't fulfill the deepest longings of our soul. We realize the pulpit checklists are as futile to the preacher as they are to the parishioner. We stare up at the lights, watching the championship handed to another, and just soak in the defeat and despair.
It’s then, only then, do we hear a voice. It says, “Come.” He reaches out His nail-pierced hand and makes an offer…
Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light. - Matthew 11:28-30 (NKJV)
He looks like He's been through His own fight. He's got the scars to prove it. But there's something kind in His eyes.
For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. - 2 Corinthians 5:21 (NKJV)
In his book, It is Finished: 365 Days of Good News, Tullian Tchividjian says this:
The gospel declares that I don’t need to save myself, defend myself, legitimize myself, justify myself, or free myself. The gospel frees me from the obsessive pressure to avoid the judgment of joylessness, the enslaving demand to find happiness. What I need and long for most has come from outside of me in the person of Jesus. (April 1 reading)
“What am I anymore if I’m not this?” I am His.
Adam
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