While trekking the streets of Washington DC last week, I found a small, discreet studio on a busy street. The clouded glass blocked visibility from the street, but thin, black font was neatly printed on the glass: the bar method.

I’ve heard so much about this relatively new exercise phenomena and my interest was piqued. I scribbled the phone number down and called when I got back to my hotel room.

The next morning at 6:50am, I walked through the clouded glass door and paid for my very first bar method class. The bar method is a hybrid of ballet, pilates, and yoga using little or no weights during the workout routine. My usual workout routine includes various cardio-intensive exercises like kick-boxing, running, or cycling and 27 buckets of sweat.

Understand my frustration when I’m grasping a ballet bar and clenching my gluteals together while plie-ing into various stances. The experienced students looked graceful and lean. I looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. The instructor would call my name in a gentle voice or come by to reposition my shoulder, my ankle, my hips, or my back every five minutes. Up higher, Bianca. Out further, Bianca. Much tighter, Bianca. 

By the end of the class, I hadn’t broken a sweat. I hadn’t gasped for breath. I hadn’t even taken a drink of water. I left class thinking it was all in vain… until I sneezed. Yes, the achoo-hand-me-a-tissue kind of bodily function. A couple hours later while thinking I should have run to the White House for my morning workout, I sneezed and my whole body immediately felt the higher-further-tighter reminders of my instructor. It worked?! The method really worked.

I tend to see the world in black and white, right and wrong, sweat or no sweat. But sometimes the littlest movements make the biggest difference.

Just like the small, repetitious moves I made in class, sometimes our small, repetitious decisions to choose right things makes the real difference. I want to pay penance, beat myself up, workup a sweat in trying to do good, be right, and live a life of spiritual health. But where do we see that as a biblical practice? The only place we see the acts of legalism and rigidity is in the Pharisees. Do right, do more, do better. 

But what if the small things really matter? What if the small things are the very things we need to make balanced changes in our life?

I’ve had a shift in my approach to health. If we worked out together, I wouldn’t yell at you to you to work harder, push faster, and do more. I would tell you, Up higher, friend! Out further, friend! Much tighter, friend! You may not feel the effects immediately, but in time you will be leaner, stronger, and more flexible when life stretches you uncomfortably.