Thursday, May 15, 2008


You’ve heard the common saying that it is dangerous to pray for humility. I rarely pray for such noble things, and have not done so any time recently, but I did experience a very humbling situation last week.

It happened when I was at Wayne Grudem’s house (yes THE Dr. Wayne Grudem) one evening with a group of friends. A couple of us followed him to the garage to help with some tables and chairs. In the midst of this mundane task a discussion on the interaction between politics and religion ensued and our time in the garage was greatly extended. During one of the fringe moments of this discussion I noticed he had a pull-up bar, something I’ve considered purchasing, mounted on the ceiling. When I asked him about it he said, “Why don’t you give it a try?”

I hesitated, not wanting to make anyone else in the room fell extremely un-athletic, but before I can respond he says “Here – I’ll go first.”

No he didn’t do it. He just issued a pull-up challenge, and then he had the guts to go first (a BIG no-no in any challenge – always go second).

My first thought as he jumped on the bar was “You’re in trouble old man.” A 60 year old research professor against a 34 year old who works out 4 days a week? Vegas would give up gambling for those odds.

But I watched in horror, as he picked up speed with each rep, and I began to wonder how this was going to turn out. He dropped off the bar after pounding out 12 reps (though he said he only did 10 – I didn’t argue). Then he remarks in passing “gosh, I haven’t done those in a while. Your turn”

Now – no problem – all I have to do is beat 10 right?
I can do that in my sleep.
I’m almost half his age.
No pressure.
I probably won’t even break a sweat.

So I stepped up and did all I could.

The results…..

Wayne Grudem –11 (I split the difference with him).
John Majors – 9.

Now, I could give a long list of reasons why my arms and back were tired going into it. I could explain the physics behind how the elevation change between the drive from my house to his affected my performance. I could speak of the Jedi mind tricks he was obviously playing on me. And I won’t even mention that I thought I saw him hold up one of my papers and feign a tearing motion (you think you can intimidate me? Bring it on!)

But would all those excuses help lessen the pain of my loss?

1 comment:

Mr. Majors said...

what a great post