I have often said that you are not completely fit for life unless you are fit both spiritually and physically. That is why, as my family and staff know, my daily routine starts with Bible study. After that, I spend time praying—for patients, friends, family members, world problems and particularly for the United States, where we seem to have lost the spiritual foundation that made us exceptional.
At the end of an eight-hour day in the office, I walk to our fitness center and spend 30 minutes on the recumbent bike, followed by five to 10 minutes of circuit weight training. Once home, the first thing I do before dinner is take our two dogs for a walk. By the time I prepare for bed, I have focused on both the spiritual and physical disciplines of my life.
Why is the spiritual aspect of my daily life so important? First Corinthians 6:19-20 puts it in perspective: “Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So, you must honor God with your body.” We are also taught in 1 Timothy 4:8: “Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come.”
A book I authored in 1995 titled It’s Better to Believe (reprinted as Faith-Based Fitness) states, “I’ve always been a strong advocate of the need for regular physical checkups by your doctor—and the same with your spiritual health. There is no such thing as benign neglect of the soul. Frequent examinations and nurturing of the soul are absolutely essential. Otherwise, the growth and deepening of your personal belief system will cease. When your basic beliefs begin to deteriorate, the spark that keeps you motivated to exercise may also be extinguished.”
That’s what almost happened to me in 1974, a few years after my first book, Aerobics, became an international bestseller. I had begun to get more speaking engagements as a fitness advocate while trying to balance my growing practice, and I was inundated with new patients. Previously, I had succeeded fairly well in keeping my priorities in order: God first, family second, work third and physical fitness fourth. Although my Christian beliefs had helped me approach my life in this way, I found things were becoming topsy-turvy and unbalanced. Work had crept up to the top of the list, my family was at the bottom, my spiritual life was almost completely dried up—and my emotional condition and physical health were not in the best shape.
My regular prayer life had ceased as well as reading the Bible or even thinking much about God. It wasn’t that I was having any particular doubts about His existence, I just didn’t seem to have time to nurture my inner life. At the same time, I was also finding it harder to complete a good workout.
Although I was still trying to exercise regularly, the workouts, when I fit them in, left me exhausted or unsatisfied. Prior to that, a good run, scheduled consistently every late afternoon, would energize me well into the evening. Exercise sessions had become more sporadic. My energies were zapped by an increasing load of writing and public speaking while leading the fledgling Cooper Aerobics Center and Cooper Clinic in Dallas.
Then one day I received a phone call—a literal spiritual wake-up call—from Cliff Barrows, the song leader and master of ceremonies for Billy Graham’s Crusades. He asked me to speak on the platform at Mr. Graham’s next evangelistic event, which was scheduled for Rio de Janeiro in October 1974. He was aware of my connection with Brazil due to my physical training work with their 1970 World Cup championship soccer team.
“We want you to speak at that meeting,” Barrows said, explaining that I could describe my own spiritual journey and the way my faith interacted with my work.
“I’ll have to think about it,” I told him, but I proceeded to put any thought about Billy Graham or my spiritual life completely out of my mind.
Then, about six weeks before the crusade, Cliff called again. “I’m sending you a ticket to Rio,” he said.
That made me angry because I thought he was applying too much pressure. “I can’t go—there is no way I can go to Rio,” I said, and hung up the phone.
In the moment, I completely forgot about the patient sitting across from me as disturbing emotions welled up: first anger, then anxiety, then fear. It never crossed my mind to pray about what I should do. There was renewed despair about my father, who had just passed away. I thought about the encephalitis epidemic that had just hit Brazil—and I wondered if my refusal to speak at the Graham rally had anything to do with my being afraid that I might get the disease or even die if I went down there.
Perspiration poured down my face—evidence of the spiritual warfare that was going on inside. It was a classic anxiety attack. I must have seemed on the verge of some sort of personal health crisis because my patient asked, “Are you all right, Dr. Cooper?”
That brought me back to reality. I quickly assured him I was all right, even though I wasn’t. I managed to get through my patient’s exam, shut the door and tell my assistant to hold any further patients or calls for a few minutes. I knew I was in the middle of some sort of major turning point, and I was convinced if I didn’t resolve it fairly quickly, I could be heading for big trouble.
In some ways, I felt almost as though I had gone from Heaven to hell during the preceding few years. My dreams of helping countless people through aerobic fitness were being realized, and my career was well underway. But amid this success, something had been lost. God was no longer part of my daily life. I knew enough about myself to understand the dislocation I was feeling deep inside was a warning sign. God was trying to get my attention.
Then a kind of mental picture flashed before me, a scene of what I could expect if I continued on my present course: I was living life apart from God, and I even sensed I might be on the verge of some sort of catastrophe involving my children, my wife or my own health. A preoccupation with death—and serious questions about how well I had prepared myself for it—gripped me. Yet there was a way out. I didn’t have to continue on my present, self-centered path. Instead, I could choose to reorder my priorities and begin honoring God again.
I didn’t understand everything that was happening, but I did know that the right thing was to change my mind about speaking at the Billy Graham Crusade. So I picked up the phone and called Cliff Barrows.
“Something just happened to me,” I told him. “I don’t know exactly what it all means, but I’ll be there!”
When I put the phone down, my feelings of despondency and confusion were replaced by a calm certainty, a “peace that passes all understanding” (Cf. Philippians 4:6-7). I knew from experience that when I was in tune with God, there was a contentment that couldn’t be explained in human terms. That’s what I felt at that moment.
On Oct. 6, 1974, I spoke alongside Billy Graham to the largest crowd to attend an evangelistic service in the Western hemisphere—225,000 people filled Rio de Janeiro’s Maracanã Stadium. I am convinced that I would not be alive and healthy at age 93 without this major turning point in my spiritual life.
To benefit from all of these recommendations about achieving both spiritual and physical fitness, you have to consider it a journey, not a destination. For physical fitness, that must include at least 30 minutes of aerobic exercise, collective or sustained, most days of the week; and for spiritual fitness—prayer and Bible study on a regular basis and at least weekly participation in a local body of believers as my wife, Millie, and I have done for 64 years.
Speaking of the journey, I am in the process of completing my 20th book, an autobiography, which shares my life’s work devoted to preventive medicine and the fitness revolution, all possible due to my faith in God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I know I am glorifying God daily in both my body and my spirit. My hope is that all who read this article will follow these recommendations and be blessed with a long, healthy, active and Spirit-filled life as I have been. ©2024 Kenneth H. Cooper
Kenneth H. Cooper, M.D., MPH, known worldwide as “the father of aerobics,” is the founder and chairman of Cooper Aerobics in Dallas and chairman emeritus of The Cooper Institute.
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation.
Photo: Courtesy of Kenneth Cooper