“A black belt is just a white belt who never quit” is a popular proverb in martial arts.
It takes an average of 13 years to earn a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu (BJJ). Progressing is mostly about grit: not quitting. Those who endure to the end will be promoted.
BJJ found its way to the United States in the 1970s, where it grew steadily in popularity. But in the last 10 years, interest and participation in the sport have doubled.
I’ve had several friends invite me to get into BJJ, and I recently took the plunge. As a pastor and a BJJ newbie, I was surprised by the compelling parallels between the invitations and instructions of BJJ and men’s discipleship. The two key components are humility and hierarchy.
Humility
I’d been somewhat interested in doing jiu-jitsu since I heard Chadd Wright on Joe Rogan’s podcast. Wright, who does theology with the clarity of R. C. Sproul and the courage of a Navy SEAL, was asking Rogan about how he kept his ego in check after becoming “the most powerful man in media.” Here’s part of Rogan’s response:
Jiu-jitsu is humiliating. It’s humbling. But there’s a lot of power in that humbling. . . . Jiu-jitsu is a huge factor in my sanity and my ability to stay sane through everything. Dudes are strangling me all the time.
I believe humility is essential to true masculinity. And because authentic humility almost always comes through humiliation, Rogan’s response resonated with me. I’m predisposed to haughtiness, so I need to seek out opportunities to be the dumbest and weakest person in the room.
A longtime friend at my church who’s a brown belt (which takes an average of nine years to earn) invited me to join him at his BJJ school. In the first week of training, I got choked out so many times (once by a 13-year-old) that it hurt to swallow food. I found the medicine I was looking for.
My Instagram algorithm soon nailed me with this Jocko Willink quote:
[Many think] the hardest belt to get in jiu-jitsu is the black belt. But that’s actually not true. The hardest belt to get in jiu-jitsu is the white belt. . . . It takes the most amount of courage and humility to put on a white belt and . . . have all your little fantasies of who you thought you were and how tough you thought you were get totally annihilated; that is a big step. It’s the first step, and it’s the hardest step to take in jiu-jitsu.
To begin, you must admit what you aren’t; to continue, you must make peace with how slowly you’re progressing. Getting beaten up stinks, but signing up to get beaten up? That’s gutsy.
It’s no coincidence that two of the most influential men reaching male audiences (Rogan and Willink) promote BJJ. Men hate suffering but love having suffered. War stories, talking about how hard the workout was, and “back-in-my-day” sentimentality are all rooted in the desire to be someone who overcame something.
Men hate suffering but love having suffered.
Churches can learn from the rising appeal of BJJ. I know a lot of men resistant to the gospel message because it seems cheap and easy. Saved by sheer grace? “When something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is,” they say. Yet the call of the gospel, in one sense, is neither cheap nor easy. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer says,
Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.
Do you want to annihilate all your fantasies about who you are? Come to Jesus. Do you want to overcome yourself, walk the path of self-conquest, and discover the type of humility that comes from God himself? Repent and believe. Grace is a gift, yes, but you have to lose your life to find it. That first step is the hardest.
Hierarchy
Hierarchy gets a bad rap. Yes, it can become oppressive. But it can also be about honor. BJJ has five main belts: white, blue, purple, brown, and black. The progress map is clearly delineated. There are core competencies and rules about the time spent at each belt before you’re promoted.
At least at my school, you line up at the start of class. The professors (black belts) line up on one side. Then you line up by rank from brown and down to white opposite your superiors. In my first few months, I had to line up behind small children. Knowing where you stand isn’t an abstract concept in BJJ.
“Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands,” Paul warns (1 Tim. 5:22). Why? Elevating people into leadership who haven’t been tested over time is dangerous. Countless flameouts and ministry casualties have resulted from too-hasty promotion of untested men. There’s wisdom in observing potential leaders slowly mature, demonstrate grit, and exhibit the biblical qualifications of leadership over time.
Elevating people into leadership who haven’t been tested over time is dangerous.
I did CrossFit for 12 years, and I was pretty good. How much did that matter when I started BJJ? Not at all. Likewise, when men walk into the church, their career accolades, social media platforms, or relational successes shouldn’t count for much. When you first come to faith in Christ, you’re a white belt, and your default posture should be submission and giving honor. Everyone starts at zero.
“Gray hair is a crown of glory” (Prov. 16:31) because of the lifetime of experiences that shape and mature us spiritually. Younger men and new converts are to seek out insight (4:7) through mentorship and, without shame, embrace that they’re at the back of the line. Churches have what men most need: elders.
Don’t Quit
The Christian life requires endurance. Endurance presupposes suffering. We don’t just start the race but finish it (2 Tim. 4:7), remaining faithful through many dangers, toils, and snares. Increasing your pain tolerance is a vital component of a resilient Christian life; it’s “the one who endures to the end [who] will be saved” (Matt. 24:13).
Seventy-five percent of people who start BJJ quit before they get a blue belt. Ninety-five percent never make it to black belt. A black belt is just a white belt who never quit. Likewise, a wise, holy, Christian man is just a new convert who never quit.
The Gospel Coalition