Most people encounter me at my best on Sunday. Clear in thought. Focused. Energized. What they don’t see is the weight that comes with pastoral leadership. The emotional labor. The constant decision-making. The responsibility of holding people’s grief, expectations, and crises, often without pause.
For a long time, I told myself exhaustion was part of the calling. That being tired meant I was faithful. But slowly, fatigue became my baseline. My drive diminished. Motivation faded. Then came the diagnosis that forced me to stop explaining things away: high blood pressure.
That moment confronted me with a truth I could no longer ignore. I was deeply committed spiritually, but physically depleted. I was investing time maintaining my home, my car, my work even my phone while neglecting the very body through which I live out my calling.
A sentence kept surfacing in my mind: You only get one of these.
That realization marked the beginning of a different kind of obedience.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF DISCIPLINE
My fitness journey didn’t begin with inspiration—it began with necessity. Pastoring is stressful work, and prayer alone wasn’t releasing the tension my body was holding. I needed structure. I needed discipline that translated into resilience.
Mornings became the battleground. I wrestled with a real tension: Do I begin with Bible study, or do I go straight to the gym? If I waited too long, telling myself I’d work out later, I often didn’t go at all. I had to learn that discipline doesn’t always come from ideal sequencing, it comes from decision.
Strength training became foundational. Cardio became therapeutic. The gym taught me what ministry often reinforces: progress comes from consistency, not intensity. One quote that stayed with me during this season came from Vince Lombardi:
“Every body suffers one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.”
I had lived with regret long enough. Discipline became the better pain.
FAITH AND FITNESS – A SACRED CONNECTION
Over time, the gym became more than a physical space, it became a place of formation. Not instead of God, but with Him. Some days I trained with worship music. Other days I worked in silence. Physical resistance has a way of surfacing internal truths quickly.
As fitness restored my energy and focus, my hunger for the Word returned. Discipline in the gym sharpened discipline in study. I learned how to sit with resistance instead of rushing past it, whether under a barbell or in prayer. The patience required to finish a workout began shaping how I prepared sermons and approached ministry.
Unexpectedly, the gym also became a place of connection. Conversations happened naturally. Mentorship unfolded organically. Leadership didn’t require a pulpit, just presence and consistency.
There’s a quote often attributed to Arnold Schwarzenegger that resonated with me during this season: “Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths.” I saw that truth play out weekly, physically and spiritually.
IMPACT AND INSPIRATION
The changes were gradual but undeniable. My blood pressure improved. My energy stabilized. My passion returned. I preached with greater clarity and recovered faster from emotionally demanding moments. Stress no longer settled in my body the way it once did.
What surprised me most was the mental impact. After establishing a strong rhythm of training, missing a workout affected me more than I expected. There was a morning when the schedule slipped and I didn’t make it to the gym. Nothing dramatic happened—but internally, I felt it. My focus was off. My patience shortened. It reminded me how much structure had become an anchor for my mental and emotional health.
That moment also forced an honest reckoning with identity. I was coming to terms with the reality that I was no longer the strongest man in the gym. That truth challenged my ego in quiet ways. Strength had to be redefined not as dominance, but as consistency. Not as comparison, but as stewardship.
My congregation noticed not in comments about appearance, but in presence. In endurance. In emotional availability. Some asked questions. Others quietly adjusted their own habits. I didn’t preach fitness from the pulpit but example has its own voice.
There are still challenges. Some mornings discipline has to override desire. But I’ve learned that stewardship isn’t about perfection, it’s about returning.
THE ENDURING STRENGTH
This journey has reinforced a truth I carry daily: You only get one of these.
We protect our investments, insure our assets, and maintain what matters yet often neglect the body God entrusted to us. For me, fitness became an act of obedience. Not vanity. Not trend. Stewardship.
The gym restored more than physical strength. It restored drive. Discipline. Passion. As I wipe down equipment and step back into meetings, counseling sessions, or sermon preparation, I carry this conviction with me: The strength required to serve others must first be sustained within.
True strength isn’t about how you look. It’s about how long you can lead, love, and serve well. Faith and fitness together taught me that one disciplined decision at a time.
This article © Pastor Jamaal Bernard. Reprinted with permission courtesy of epiMediaGroup, LLC. All of the photos in this article © epiMediaGroup, LLC / Courtesy of Pastor Jamaal Bernard.
