I am woefully afraid of board games. My idea of a good time is sitting back with my pals, eating, talking and laughing. But when someone brings out a board game, my lungs collapse. My skin goes pallid. And my stomach wrenches into a putrid explosion of awful. Every part of me wants to escape, to disappear. And if I am forced, coerced or generally expected to play, I find a way to lose quickly and exploit it.
I have ADHD. When I sit, my leg bounces. When I stand, I glide about. Reading is a chore, but I can do it. I can focus in conversation. I can even listen to a four-hour lecture and get by (if I’ve taken notes and brought a recorder). But pull out board games, and you will see my ADHD flare like the blueberry girl on the old Willy Wonka film. They are the only things that scare me in a group setting, and I avoid them at all costs.
How could a guy like that write anything valuable concerning a theology of play? Like Brandon, I wish to understand how God made me and others. Working with youth calls me to understand the world around me, to accept mysteries where they are present and to inquire deeply into things as simple and complex as play. I agree with Brandon’s critique of our performance-based society, the need for students to be free of those pressures and the merciful nature of Jesus to lay a gentle yoke upon those who follow him.
Yet, if he were here with me, I would ask him to offer a definition of what play is.[1] This would be helpful because our modern culture has its own definition of what play is. For that reason, a pure definition[2] would help give clarity to what he is trying to say. There are some things we might not consider play that actually are and other things that pose as play that we should reject. A definition could guide in determining the difference and set us on a right trajectory of thought.
This raises an important question. Does God really use play “to refashion the identities, passions and trust of teens…so that they can become prophetic agents of Christ’s self-giving love”? According to Brandon, God uses play to realign an individual’s “passions” so they mimic Christ’s passions. God liberates today’s teens through the “divine dance of play,” helping kids to see them for who they are. Essentially, play enacts the entire mission of God. But is that really the case?
I’m wary of how Brandon has shaped his theology of play because I think he assumes far too much how play in and of itself imbues the entire mission of God. One could almost believe that play is itself a gospel agent and that anyone who engages in it has interacted with the gospel. But where are the scriptural or historical-theological foundations for this? They feel absent, and instead, his theological system seems top heavy. Nevertheless, he begs the question: Where does play fit in the mission of God?
I propose worship as a better category in which to see play.
In seeing play through worship, we are invited to behold God, his nature and his awesome deeds and to mimic him in our lives. How great would it be to read an exploration of the Godhead, their community, their creativity—and their play?[3] As creatures made for worship, we find ourselves invited to mimic God’s creative deeds and to bring his mission into the world because, in mimicking God, our play has meaning. God transforms our pathetic play into something beautiful, something holy, something that shouts forth his mission.
Still, we cannot assume that every invitation God gives us to know him is heartily accepted by people. We are stubborn creatures. We love to refuse God’s invitations to know and experience. When we do, everything from play to work to preaching is devoid of any eternal meaning. If our gaze on God brings us to play (or to anything else), then God’s mission is present, and the gospel can be heard and seen by all; therein, our lives can be transformed.
By seeing play through worship, we are not starting with play as our source of meaning but God. And in gazing upon God, we find that everything, including play, finds deep, glorious worth.
I was just hired at my church. Every Tuesday, for two hours, some 40+ kids enter into this church to experience youth group. And I wonder: Is every part of this ministry, including play, infused with the gospel? I am grateful for the challenge Brandon’s words bring. Am I inviting my kids to know God better by infusing everything (even play) with its most profound and beautiful meaning? I want my kids to know how to worship God in all parts of their lives. The invitation is there, always. So, may the Lord give me wisdom to know how to lead my kids to know his voice and to infuse every part of their lives with his worth and mission.
[1] Some have attempted this to varying degrees of success. See the following introductions: Bonnie J. Miller-McLemore, “The Royal Road: Children, Play, and the Religious Life,” Pastoral Psychology 58 (2009): 505-19; Charles W. Kegley, “Theology 1939-1979,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 16 (1969): 119-27; Karl-Heinrich Bieritz, “Play.” Pages 4:240-41 in Encyclopedia of Christianity, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005.
[2] Much of my understanding of the concept of play comes from Johan Huizinga. See J. Huizinga, Homo Ludens (Florence, Ky.: Routeledge, 2008); also helpful is Lucien E. Coleman, Jr., “Religious Education as Play: A Ludenic Approach to Christian Learning,” Review and Expositor 70 (1973): 378-86.
[3]Again, here a pure definition of play would help our discussion. For my purposes, I’m using play as a means by which people can experience and express intimacy with God. It’s a working definition.
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