I’m reading this amazing book by Mark Buchanan called The Rest of God: Restoring your Sabbath by Restoring your Soul. The chapter I just finished reading talked about playing.
He writes, “I grew up in a home with no religious influences, so I have no inkling about how those who ran these Sabbatarian homes thought. But my guess is that they were beholden to the grimmest form of utilitarianism (usefulness). My guess is that they figured since we spend six days in unbroken usefulness, we should spend one in unbroken restfulness. My guess is that rest was the only alternative they could imagine to work. But what about play?”
I think sometimes we idolize rest so much that we forget how nice play is. Adults tend to lose our playfulness and get caught up in the swirl of ‘to do lists’ and we forget how refreshing it is to just waste time. To not have a schedule or a deadlines, no rushing about from one thing to the next. We forget how restful it is to play hard, to do what we love and waste time doing it. When we stop enslaving ourself to chronos and enjoy kairos (read earlier blog to understand those greek words).
“That’s just it: we were both glad to be alive. A day like that puts that in you. And more: it makes you feel alive, alive in every joint and marrow, alive inside and out. In everything - the food you eat, the people you meet, the trees around you, the conversations you have - in everything, a day like that sharpens your sense. It makes you thankful and amazed. It makes the taste and smell and color and texture of everything intensely vibrant. It heightens the meaning of every last little thing. It’s that you tasted life and came back for more. It’s that you did something for no reason other than the sheer pleasure of doing it.”
The beauty of play is that it makes you feel alive, every sense in your body is on fire. I’ve had moments like this in my life, and they come in many different ways.
I went cliff-diving a couple of years ago and faced my fears of falling from heights. That moment when your feet leave the safe and solid ground and you’re suspended in the air, your stomach has no where to rest. And then you hit the water. You plunge ten or twenty feet into deep, cold, refreshing water. It surrounds you for a couple of seconds, enveloping you in its refreshing grip. Then you kick off the bottom, break surface and gasp for air - there are few things more exhilarating.
I learned to snowboard back in Washington, it’s hard and it’s long hours spent falling on your face or your butt. But it’s fantastic. You learn to seamlessly glide down a gigantic mountain while taking in the breathtaking view of the scenery bellow. You curve left, curve right, and repeat all the way down. There is a rhythm to it, like riding a bike; and when you get that rhythm just right, it becomes as easy as breathing.
“But play is also subversive. It hints at a world beyond us. It carries a rumor of eternity, new from a kingdom where Chronos and utility are no more welcome than death and Hades and the ancient serpent. When we play, we nudge the border of forever.”
It’s said that laughter is the best medicine. And it is; for those of us sick with utilitarianism, or coughing up schedules, or allergic to deadlines. We need to play more, to play harder, to laugh and enjoy life. To experience life to it’s fullest and sharpen our senses of this beautiful world God created for us. Enjoy His creation and play, nudge eternity. And maybe when we’re done we’ll be less tired, less hungry, less thirsty. And maybe we’ll be able to see God more clearly, to hear His voice more often, to bask in His glory more accurately.
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