No, staying fit takes work, and churches faced with overpacked pews are urging Christians to shed those extra pounds.
By SHARON TUBBS
Published July 11, 2004
[AP photo]
Fitness trainer Donna Richardson, front, leads line dancers doing the “gospel slide” at the Mega Fest Christian conference at the Georgia Dome in Atlanta recently. Richardson urged attendees to live more active, healthier lives, despite trends to the contrary.
[AP photo]
Fitness expert Donna Richardson is part of a growing industry that is encouraging Christians to lose weight. Some Tampa Bay area fitness trainers are also taking part.
Moses led the Israelites through the wilderness surviving on heaven's manna and quail. The Book of Exodus doesn't say so, but with that diet and all the walking and building tabernacles and such, it's unlikely they were fat.
Their Christian descendants are not nearly as active or buffet-deprived, though. Sunday school classes snack on cream-filled doughnuts. After-church fellowship means fried chicken dinners with plates piled high.
Obesity is an epidemic in the United States. And experts say the problem is at least as bad among the faithful.
Kenneth Ferraro, a sociologist at Purdue University in Indiana, found in a 1998 study that a higher percentage of Christians were obese when compared with nonbelievers and Jews.
Christian leaders see the evidence in their pews and sometimes in their church budgets. The Southern Baptist Convention initiated a wellness program encouraging weight loss after linking medical claims from ministers and church staffers to stress and weight problems.
The headline on the latest issue of the Christian magazine Charisma asks: Why Are We So Fat? It's a question ministers and researchers can't answer definitively. Some speculate that food has become a staple of Christian fellowship. Others say restrictions on alcohol and drugs may have left Christians with one spiritually acceptable vice: food.
"We have a health crisis," says fitness trainer Donna Richardson. "You look around the church and you're getting spiritually and mentally stronger. But we're not taking care of our temple," referring to a biblical passage that regards a Christian's body as a temple where the Holy Spirit dwells.
She is part of the fast-growing Christian fitness industry, a genre of spiritual books, exercise videos, nutritional products and workout regimens.
But the movement takes weight loss to another dimension, a spiritual one. Leaders say that obesity is not only unhealthy, it's ungodly.
* * *
About 100 Christians from across the country stand in a circle inside Atlanta's Georgia World Congress Center for a 7 a.m. workout. Their peers who flocked to Bishop T.D. Jakes' recent four-day Mega Fest are still in their hotel beds.
Richardson, whom some may know from the Platinum Buns of Steel video series, is promoting the fall release of her latest exercise program, Sweating in the Spirit. In the video, gospel singers Yolanda Adams, Kirk Franklin and Shirley Murdock exercise with Richardson to upbeat praise music.
Murdock, an R&B songstress-turned-gospel-singer who admits she needs to shape up, is with Richardson this morning. She leads the circle in prayer.
"We present our bodies, a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto you," Murdock says. "Thank you for another opportunity, Lord, to fine-tune these vessels. We don't want these vessels to break down and your treasures not get out to the people. . . . Give us a hunger, oh God, to exercise, oh God! That we see it, not as a hindrance, but praise unto you."
After the amen, the group forms rows across the auditorium. They move side-to-side, swinging arms and stomping feet. They lift their arms and hands in praise to God, following Richardson's directions.
"And praises go up. Go up. Go up. And jump. Jump. Jump. And shoulder lean. . . . And one, to the right. And two, to the left. . . ."
They cool down, and Murdock takes the microphone again. "Does anybody feel better?"
"Yeah!" the crowd intones, some waving their hands as if to testify in church.
"I feel younger," Murdock says. "I feel rejuvenated!"
Mikita King, 33, of Birmingham, Ala., is still fired up when the session ends. "It was very powerful, very uplifting," she says, waiting in line to shake Richardson's hand.
Steven Wilkins from Melrose, Mass., stands to the side. He has lost about 150 pounds, he says, exercising to Christian videos and looking to the Bible for guidance.
When he was overweight, he wasn't "walking in my purposed desire," he says. He likens it to refusing the inheritance of a will. God has certain blessings for his followers to inherit, but Christians won't get them if they are burdened with weight and the health problems obesity brings, Wilkins says.
Now, the gospel singer says he can project better when he sings. He has more self-esteem, is confident and can talk to people freely about God.
Felicia Matthews from Boling, Texas, didn't know the Sweating in the Spirit session was for exercise when she put on her makeup and her red pants suit and showed up this morning. But she quickly grabbed one of the T-shirts handed out by co-sponsor St. Joseph's Aspirin and started stepping to the beat.
The 34-year-old preacher's wife says she needs to lose about 25 pounds. After this, she says, she hopes to start an exercise ministry in her church. Christians usually think about preserving their bodies by not being promiscuous, not drinking or smoking, Matthews says. Now she realizes there's more to it. "When we don't take care of our bodies, that's a sin, too."
* * *
When Ferraro, the sociologist at Purdue University, began studying religion and obesity, he expected people of faith would be slimmer than nonbelievers. That's usually how it is when it comes to many health issues. Religious people are less likely to smoke and drink, so they routinely come out healthier.
Then he analyzed the results. Christians, especially Southern Baptists and fundamentalists, were more likely to be overweight than nonbelievers and Jews.
"We were surprised," Ferraro said by phone.
He is currently working with a team of sociologists on followup research that includes people surveyed in the first study.
"We've actually observed that people who belong to certain denominations were more prone to obesity over time," he said.
Why?
Ferraro had no definite answers. It could be that churches pay so much attention to sins like alcohol abuse that obesity is overlooked. Also, pastors might not want to embarrass members by preaching about weight when obesity is so easily identifiable. Another factor, he said, may be common practices in churches to use food for fellowship.
"Think of all the potluck dinners and doughnuts that come into Sunday school classes."
The second study will likely be released next year. Preliminary analyses show that many of the obese Baptists are those who stay home and watch religious TV, rather than going to church every Sunday, Ferraro said.
Curtis Sharp, the Southern Baptists' executive officer for denominational and public relations, hadn't heard of Ferraro's studies. But the denomination has nonetheless noticed a problem and taken steps to combat obesity. The most common reasons for health claims among 28,000 ministers and staff members in the denomination's medical plan are stress and problems related to lack of exercise and excess weight, Sharp said. Many prescriptions are for illnesses with those same causes.
The denomination created a wellness program four years ago. It includes a wellness center at the Southern Baptists' annual meeting, where members can have their height, weight and blood checked. Two years ago, leaders decided to reserve one morning at the convention for a 1-mile or 5K walk, Sharp said. Baptists get T-shirts and a healthy breakfast of fruit or cereal bars - "no doughnuts," he said.
"I think people are becoming more and more aware of it," Sharp said. "But again, pastors have busy schedules and because of those schedules, they may neglect their fitness exercise."
In a sense, food is part of the culture. "You don't go (often) to a Baptist meeting without a meal," Sharp said. "There needs to be a caution there to be careful about what you eat."
Yet Baptists are not the only believers who should cut back, said Dr. Kara Davis, an internal medicine specialist who has an office in Hammond, Ind., and lives in a Chicago suburb. Her husband, Bishop Lance Davis, leads a nondenominational congregation outside Chicago where a number of members are overweight.
Davis wrote Spiritual Secrets to Weight Loss and teaches a weekly course at the church. The Holy Spirit gives Christians the power to be disciplined and consistent in their diets and exercise, she tells them.
Weight loss is also important to Christian evangelism, she said. She wrote in an article for Charisma:
"When we continue to walk in defeat, gaining weight instead of losing it, declining in health instead of improving, leaving each doctor's visit with more prescriptions than when we arrived, our witness to the power of the Holy Spirit is marred. God forbid the unsaved say of us, "If God can't help her close the refrigerator, how powerful can He be?' "
But even Davis' church has strongholds when it comes to food. It's common for New Zion Christian Fellowship to have a big meal for members after service on Sunday.
"We want to maintain fellowship, and the meal is a way to enhance the fellowship."
The typical menu? Fried chicken, greens or string beans, salads, dressing, cake or sherbet for dessert and fruit and vegetable trays.
"It's not what you call a health-conscious meal," she said. "But I'm working on it."
* * *
The need for weight loss in Christendom is gradually gaining mass appeal. Some high-profile preachers have successfully shed pounds, including Pentecostal Bishop T.D. Jakes and TV evangelist Joyce Meyer. Both now routinely mention weight loss in their sermons.
Jakes on resisting evil temptations of his favorite desserts before losing 100 pounds:
"I looked at that peach cobbler, I said, "You know you a lie!' . .. I may be stabbed to death, but I won't be spooned to death. . . . I almost cussed sweet potato pie out!"
Meyer on people who want to lose weight but never do anything about it:
"We need to throw away our wishbone and get some backbone. . . . Well, I wish I wasn't overweight. I wish my house was clean. I wish I was in ministry. I wish I felt better. . . . You won't feel better on the couch eating doughnuts all day. . . . You have a responsibility not to abuse your body. Living on candy bars and potato chips and soda pop is abuse."
When the preaching is over and it's time for action, in step Christian fitness trainers. They are showing up in churches across the country.
Last year, Neale Davis started a class at his church, Mt. Calvary Seventh-day Adventist Church in Tampa. Soon, Davis had a small group coming weekly for exercise and strength training. He recently started a second class at Jesus People Family Worship Center, also in Tampa. Davis charges $100 for 10 sessions of his class, which includes personalized meal plans and the use of small weights.
"I look at people who have addictions to food and people who are trying to fight the battle of the bulge. It's a spiritual battle to me," said Davis, who is also a middle school teacher.
"For example, you wouldn't go into one church and throw all kinds of junk into it. There's a certain reverence in the temple," Davis said. Christians should regard their bodies the same way and stop dumping junk food into their "temples," he said.
Craig Campbell, 38, started "Boot Camp" at Skycrest Baptist Church in Clearwater, attracting a number of people who are not church members. Three times a week at 6 a.m., Campbell cranks up songs by Christian artists such as D.C. Talk and Newsboys. Participants bring their own dumbbells and pay $40 for five weeks.
Back in Atlanta, Richardson has finished her class and is preparing for another feat. Whenever she speaks about weight loss, she insists that the crowd do some type of activity to get church people used to moving.
Mega Fest is no exception. Later in the day, she sits on a raised platform, listening as Jakes ministers to a packed Georgia Dome. After two hours of preaching and praying, Jakes calls Richardson to center stage.
Richardson is going to try to break the Guinness World Record for the most people in a line dance, he tells the crowd. Onstage, she demonstrates what she calls the "gospel slide," a line dance she choreographed. A theme song for Mega Fest blares from speakers throughout the dome, and Christians stand and mimic her moves.
"And praises go up," Richardson says. "And left. And right."
"This," she yells above the excitement, "is the power of God's people moving their bodies!"
The previous record was held by the Hong Kong Dance Federation when 12,168 people danced to Baby Likes to Rock It for seven minutes, 40 seconds. The official tally for Richardson's spiritual slide was not in at the time of publication, but her people say they broke the record with more than 40,000 Christians dancing in the spirit for 10 minutes.
“And praises go up. And left. And right,” says Donna Richardson as she leads tens of thousands of Mega Fest attendees in the “gospel slide,” which she choreographed. “This is the power of God’s people moving their bodies!”
