Jeremy L. Berg

For many years my weekly rhythm has included soaking in a hot tub at a local fitness club with a good book in hand. At times this bubbling water has become a sacred place I’ve dubbed my “Holy Hot Tub.” On several occasions, I found myself struggling to finish a sermon on a Saturday evening, starting to panic that my scattered thoughts would never come together. Distraught, I’d slam shut my laptop and drive to the club in a desperation. Just 20 minutes in that hot tub would often elicit a flood of inspiration and clarity, and I was ready to preach after drying off.

Now my soaking habit can be contrasted with another fitness center habit I have yet to form: actually working out! From my comfortable spot in the jacuzzi I can see people upstairs moving and sweating on the machines. This has been the source of no small amount of guilt and self-loathing. It would do me well to get off my butt, get on the treadmill and get my heart pumping. I’ve joked and justified my behavior by quipping, “I go to the club to relieve stress, and you can do that by working out or by relaxing in the hot tub.” And there’s both an active way and a passive way work up a sweat.

Today, as I toweled off after 20 minutes of reading Walter Brueggemann’s commentary on Exodus in the hot tub, I pondered the contrast between running on the machines and soaking in the tub in spiritual terms. Instead of beating myself up for being more of a “soaker” than a “runner”, I began to see the need for both in the spiritual life.

Now, I don’t want to justify my lack of exercising. I really admire those who work out and keep fit. I need to grow in that area. Yer, let’s admit that when it comes to the spiritual life, American Christians are more prone to celebrate spiritual runners than spiritual soakers. Those considered the most committed to Christ are those who are engaged in the most religious activities: attending church, volunteering in a ministry, serving in the community, going on mission trips, reading their Bible, doing their devotions. Church leaders encourage their people to “run hard after God” and not become merely passive spectators in the pew. Likewise, we consider healthy churches those offering the most programs and “doing” the most in the community.

This is all good as far as it goes. I’ve preached my share of sermons intended to jolt people into action, get them off their butts, and “run with endurance the race set before us” (Heb. 12:1). Church shouldn’t be passive entertainment, but an hour at the spiritual gym exercising our heart, soul, mind and body, grappling with demanding teachings that stretch and strengthen our spiritual muscles. The Apostle Paul often athletic metaphors urging Christians to “fight the good fight,” to “run with patience,” to remember we “wrestle not with flesh and blood,” to be “working out our salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12).

That said, let me balance the scales and make a case for the need for more spiritual soaking in our overworked, overly active culture. I like the language and image of immersion and soaking in spiritual formation for several reasons.

First, soaking recalls our baptismal initiation into this new life. The journey began by being stripped of our old life, plunged into regenerating waters, and wrapped like a warm towel with a new identity. Why not let regular soaks in a tub remind us of our baptismal identity.

Second, soaking is a way to slow down, sit still, contemplate and pray without distractions. Like many, I struggle to stop moving and just sit still in my everyday life. We’re always on the run, and there’s always the noise of a thousand distractions. I began my hot tub routine when the kids were young and it became a little daily escape from the busyness and noise of this joyful yet all-consuming part of life. Moreover, the pool is one of the few places I do not bring my phone and therefore a rare escape from that ever-present preoccupation. (By the way, two groan-worthy trends these days driving me crazy are bluetooth speakers cranking loud music on the golf course and people bringing their iPhones into the hot tub.)

Third, soaking reminds us we have been plunged into a reality that is external to and greater than us. We often focus on trying to get more of God, His Word, His life, His Spirit, His power, etc. into us. Nothing wrong with this, but it’s good to be reminded that we are not at the center of reality. We are plucked out of our own busy little universes and immersed into God-reality–plunged into grace, marinating in agape love, afloat in a pool of divine provision and protection, massaged like jets by God’s enduring promises. The weight of the worries we bring into the water lighten as the gravity lessens. My first couple minutes in the water is often spent closing my eyes, lowering my ears just under the water to silence the noise in the pool, and letting my body float like a bobber just below the surface. While the New Testament teaches the reality of Christ in us on occasion (Col. 1:27), the most enduring theme of the New Testament is our life now “in Christ” (mentioned 180 times by one counting!).

While most of us don’t have a literal hot tub to soak in, we can each find our own way to sit still and soak in God’s presence. Your Holy Hot Tub might be a prayer walk, yoga mat, a fishing boat, daily devotions, listening to music, walking the dog, or a hammock by the lake.

Photo: Soaking in Christ reading the Desert Fathers in the Boundary Waters (2019)

Ultimately, we are called to be both runners and soakers in Christ. Some of us are more naturally disposed to one or the other. Those who are naturally active need to learn how to slow down and soak in God’s presence. Those who are natural contemplatives sometimes need help putting their faith into action. I suppose this entire reflection has us enjoying a free day pass at Mary and Martha’s Fitness Club & Spa. Be sure to spend time with both women: doing spiritual pilates and pumping iron with Martha and then soaking in the presence of Jesus in the Holy Hot Tub with Mary.