Farts and the Arts.

I've been in ballet classes since I was four years old. Other than my first year of university and my five years in Montreal, I've always taken ballet classes. I currently take advanced adult ballet classes at the NBS on Mondays and Thursdays.

Monday nights are a dream. I take an intermediate/advanced class that is more intermediate than advanced, and quite below my skill level. Not gonna lie. I rock in this class. It's mostly older people, who either started ballet as an adult, or who used to be teachers but have long since retired. They love me. On Monday nights, I. LOVE. ME! Tonight, one lady even told me I was a "vision and a delight to watch."  LOL.

But on Thursday nights, I take an advanced class where everyone is around my age, and it's definitely WAY. OVER. MY. HEAD.  Two of the girls in my class trained professionally in Russia (!) at the Bolshoi (!!!), and two other girls studied at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet.

Now, lest you think I am good at ballet, I am not. I know I am a perfectionist, and a bit of a jack-of-all-trades who usually does better than average in most things (it's the asian way!). But in ballet, I am average. Probably a bit below average. Mediocre at best. When I first started Thursday nights, I tried to switch out of it because I was so constantly and consistently lost. But, the teacher said the challenge would be good for me.

photo credit: giphy

Anyways, this class was really bad.  For those of you who haven't taken ballet, there are many great things about it (obvs, or I wouldn't do it), but it isn't the most grace-filled environment. It is highly disciplined and highly competitive.  I would turn the wrong way; sometimes I would miss a turn or step completely. I once even fell flat on my face after a jump.  The teacher started saying things like, "Lydia, you can go last, so you have time to think about the exercise."

photo credit: giphy

Almost two years ago, I would feel sick to my stomach every time Thursday evenings rolled around. I wanted to stay in the class, because I knew the challenge would be good for me, but I also hated looking dumb for an hour and a half each week.

THEN.

One week. The unthinkable happened. We were going across the floor individually doing grand allegro (huge jumps), and my stomach was gurgling. I was ridiculously nervous. But grand allegro tends to be what I am the best at. And then, as I launched myself in the air...

....

A huge fart, that sounded louder than a fog horn, escaped from deep within me. It wasn't one of those polite toots. It was a rumbly, earth shaking, butt-flapper, bazooka bottom, ROAR.

doodle credit: me

I cannot begin to tell you how embarrassing that was.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my teacher's startled face. Her eyes were bigger than those scary Korean girls who get plastic surgery.

Had I been with friends, I would have stopped to make a joke and to acknowledge it, but in ballet, you don't stop half-way through an exercise. So I kept on going. Didn't acknowledge it. Couldn't acknowledge it. But I know everyone had heard it..and I knew they were thinking, "Man, terrible dancer girl will henceforth be known as the girl who farted."

The embarrassment of me farting hung in the air far longer than the stench.

For weeks after that moment, I dreaded going on Thursdays even more. I was already really terrible at it, but now I knew I was also known as farty girl. Friends tried to console me, but really, they would end up agreeing with me. Yup. Mega embarrassing. Nope. No one is going to forget that moment for a long time.

One day, I was reading a verse in Galatians, where Paul writes, "For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?"

I know it sounds really dumb, that something as trivial as a fart would crush me so much, but as I read that verse, I was really convicted. Why was I always so nervous to go to ballet class?  Why did it matter so much that I sucked? Why was that laughable, embarrassing moment so crushing for me? Why did it pulverize my soul so much?

It was because I wasn't doing ballet as a way to worship God. All I cared about was the approval of man. God used a seriously funny moment (albeit the MOST embarrassing moment, to date) to point out a huge idol in my life. Tim Keller has this great quotation:

" If you love anything more than God, you will crush that object under the weight of your expectations."

Farting in ballet class made me realize that I cared more about the approval from man than I cared to worship God out of His approval. I often worry greatly about what other people think, even when I already have the approval of the Greatest on my side-- an approval, which thankfully, doesn't hinge on being good at ballet or good at life.

So... why am I telling you about my farts?

In the past few months, I've gotten numerous texts/emails from women reading this blog and saying that the number one thing that prevents them from going to the gym or exercising is looking dumb and looking like they don't know what they are doing when they're at the gym.

The platitudes that are oft given: "Don't worry, no one knows that they're doing!" or "Everyone has to start somewhere! Don't worry if you look dumb!" These are true statements; I often go to the gym and see something like this:

But these things don't address the heart. Because ultimately, the reason why we need not worry if we look dumb, the reason why we don't need to feel embarrassed-- even if we don't know how to use a treadmill-- is because there is someone who already approves of us. Going to the gym and keeping fit is just another way to worship God and enjoy who He is. Sometimes, we do this by laughing at ourselves,  other times we do this by humbling ourselves and asking someone else how to use the machines.

These days, I go to ballet class on Thursdays, and I care a lot less about what people think about me. I'm less focussed on myself and more focussed on allowing even my mediocre movements to be worshipful. It's freed me up a lot. I enjoy the classes more, I've made some friends, and I'm slowly getting better in the class. I'm now only lost about 40% of the time. haha.

At the end of the day, going to the gym (or to a ballet class where I'm probably known as the farty girl) isn't about me. It's not about how I look or how I perform. It's about worshipping the One who loves me assuredly...even when I play the tuba with my butt.