BJJ has taught me many things. I’ve learned truths like:
Gravity is undefeated.
Ego bruises easier than ribs.
A person significantly smaller than you can absolutely ruin your afternoon.
It has also taught me something deeper about spiritual formation.
Almost 20 years ago I found myself up to my neck in pastoral ministry, college studies, and family life. I also found myself incredibly out of shape and lacking a hobby. I looked around my peer group of pastors and saw some who golfed, some who played racquetball, and some who, well, didn’t do anything.
However, I had one friend in ministry who owned a mixed martial arts gym. I started lifting weights and training at his place, and the rest is history. After going through the Modern Army Combatives Program as a 30-something disabled veteran (another story for another day), I found myself hooked on Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ).
I’ve been training martial arts consistently since 2007 and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu since 2012. Over the years, I’ve learned that the mats have a strange way of exposing reality. BJJ does not care about your résumé, your degrees, your title, your social media following, or how good you looked during warmups.
One of the first things Jiu-Jitsu teaches you is that pressure reveals what training produced.
When someone is trying to choke you, isolate an arm, smash your guard, or apply relentless top pressure, you do not suddenly become more technical, more disciplined, or calmer than you actually are. You default to what has been formed through practice.
The same thing happens spiritually.
Conflict reveals formation. Leadership stress reveals formation. Suffering reveals formation. Fatigue reveals formation.
We often imagine spiritual maturity showing itself in ideal circumstances. More often, it shows itself in difficult ones.
Pressure rarely creates character from scratch. It reveals what has been shaping us all along.
That leads to a second lesson from BJJ: repetition matters more than inspiration.
My most successful techniques are not usually the flashy ones. Anyone who has trained with me knows about the “Serrano stall”, Kimura’s from side control or S-mount, and of course, random chokes from bad positions. These are the techniques I’ve practiced thousands of times. Repetition creates familiarity. Familiarity builds confidence. Confidence creates options under pressure.
Spiritual growth works much the same way.
Bible. Prayer. Worship. Fellowship. Accountability. Forgiveness. Evangelism. Generosity. Service. Rest.
These things can seem ordinary, even repetitive. Yet spiritual formation is usually built through repeated faithfulness rather than occasional emotional intensity.
I’m grateful for powerful worship experiences, meaningful conferences, and mountaintop moments with God. Truly. However, spiritual maturity is often built in quieter places: ordinary Tuesdays, difficult conversations, consistent obedience, and the slow work of practicing what we claim to believe.
Jiu-Jitsu also teaches humility remarkably well.
Actually, “teaches” may be too gentle a word. It imposes humility.
Some days you are the hammer, and some days you are the nail. At this stage in my life and journey I’m usually the nail!
There is no shortage of opportunities to discover both your strengths and your limitations when training BJJ. One day you feel sharp, technical, and composed. The next day someone catches you in something you absolutely should have seen coming.
It happens.
The mats have repeatedly reminded me of two truths that can coexist: I am stronger than I think I am, and I am weaker than I think I am.
Spiritual formation requires that kind of honesty.
Growth becomes difficult when we overestimate ourselves. It also becomes difficult when we underestimate what God is doing in us. Christian maturity involves humility without self-contempt, confidence without arrogance, and teachability without insecurity.
Nobody graduates from needing formation.
Finally, Jiu-Jitsu reminds me that community is not optional.
From the outside, combat sports can appear intensely individual. Yet nobody truly learns Jiu-Jitsu alone.
You need coaches who can see what you cannot see.
You need training partners who pressure-test your assumptions.
You need teammates who sharpen your skills, challenge bad habits, encourage growth, and occasionally humble you right on schedule.
The same is true spiritually.
Christianity was never designed as a solo endeavor.
We need people who tell us the truth. People who encourage us when we are discouraged. People who challenge blind spots. People who help us remain faithful when life becomes difficult, confusing, or exhausting.
Formation is deeply communal.
After years on the mats, I’ve come to appreciate something simple: the techniques that hold up under pressure are usually the ones built through ordinary, repeated practice inside a community of people committed to growth.
Spiritual formation works much the same way.
When life gets heavy, we do not magically become mature. We tend to fall back on what we have been training all along.
So, the question is not simply whether we are growing.
The question is: What are we training ourselves to become?
Dr. Carlo A. Serrano, President