A God Who Plays | Part I of a new series

Taking our play more seriously

A “word of the year” is not something I’ve really intentionally done; not because I don’t find the idea charming, but because I don’t want a program to randomly generate a word for me. I like to listen to my year and let it weave together the strands and make the tapestry itself. 

Sometimes, through prayer, the word was painfully obvious; emerging quickly and making itself known. But other times, I found myself surprised at the stunning clarity of its beauty only after it’s over. 

This year a word emerged with the flowers in the spring– play–and it’s been…well, playing in mind ever since. 

So consider this Part I of my first series here on Substack on the theme of play explored through the lens of motherhood, creativity, and faith.

Merry Christmas by Viggo Johansen (1891)

‘Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.’ 

Children need to be taught many things–how to read, how to blow their noses, how to use the toilet, to name only a few– but children don’t have to be taught how to play. 

I often marvel at my children’s ability to begin a game anytime and anywhere. 

That clothing rack in the department store? The perfect place to play hide and seek. 
That open field? The ideal spot for a game of tag. 
Mom and dad’s bedroom closet? The beginning of an adventure in Narnia. 

A child’s sense of wonder at the world around him readily extends an invitation to play–to engage in an activity that is done for no other reason but for the pleasure and delight of doing it. 

However, as we get older and become more burdened by expectation and responsibilities, we often lose some (if not all!) of our playfulness. Deadlines and chores, meetings and commitments, trials and sorrows weigh us down. 

We feel compelled to monetize our passion projects. We dull our senses with the constant refreshing of our social and news apps. We write off play as a waste of time or look upon it with nostalgia of years long past. 

But I think there are few things we should take more seriously.

We were created in the image of a God who plays and only by reclaiming this identity can we become like the little children and inherit the kingdom of heaven. 

In the Beginning it was not so…

Before time itself existed, God had an appetite for play. He needed nothing; he was and is whole and entire unto Himself. He is simply perfect. 

Yet in what might be described as a fit of divine playfulness, an act of profound freedom and love, He created the world and all within it; the earth, the sea, the stars, the birds of the air and the animals of the land–and us. We, who add nothing to God’s perfect nature, were made and were found Good by the God who fashioned us.

When [God] set for the sea its limit,
so that the waters should not transgress his command;
then was I [Wisdom] beside him as his craftsman,
and I was his delight day by day,
playing before him all the while,
playing on the surface of his earth;
and I found delight in the sons of men.

(Prov 8:29-31)

God made us for no other reason than God wanted to share his freedom with us. 

When God molded mankind from the clay like a child does play-dough and breathed His life into us, He separated us from the rest of creation.

He made us in His Image and Likeness and in doing so, granted us a share in the freedom He enjoyed at the beginning of time and that He will enjoy forever–the freedom to create, to rest, to love and to play. (After all, can any true friendship be forged without play?)

He declares that we are not slaves who have neither the time nor the freedom to play but rather children who can laugh with their Father as they roll together in the grass. 

Sin has marred our understanding of who we are and therefore undervalued the importance of play. God has, as Chesterton calls it: “the eternal appetite of infancy” while we “have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

But intentionally choosing to engage in moments of play can bring us back to ourselves. To play–to be filled with delight in something good but small and unnecessary–is a grace given by God so that we might see ourselves through His eyes. Play helps us relearn who we are and who God is; it allows us to exercise and rejoice in our freedom as children of our Heavenly Father. 

We must return to this spirit of playfulness God has given to us. 

The Freedom to Play

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger in The Spirit of the Liturgy writes: “Play is a kind of other world, an oasis of freedom, where for a moment we can let life flow freely. We need such moments of retreat from the pressure of daily life if its burden is to be bearable.”

Again, slaves have no time to play. An inability to play, whether because of a lack of time or attention, in some way is a form of spiritual bondage that if left unchallenged will sabotage our ability to worship. We cannot allow our hearts and minds to be so tethered.

Of course, there must be virtue that goes with our play; Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas called the virtue of playfulness eutrapelia, which acknowledges that there is an appropriate time, place, and manner in which we are to play. Abandoning our work and responsibilities simply would not do. 

But play liberates us from the drudgeries of daily life, inviting us to return to our homes and our vocations with eyes that can more clearly see Truth, Goodness, and Beauty and more rightly love both God and neighbor. 

And truly, what family couldn’t benefit from a little more fun? What home couldn’t use a bit more jollification? Which heart couldn’t use a bit of permission to fully enjoy the freedom that is our birthright as a child of God?

I know mine could. 

So I propose that we turn and become like children once again.

Let us regard the gift of life we’ve been given with the seriousness it deserves, by making time to play. 

This series on play is just beginning, and it’s gonna be fun y’all. So if you’re new here please subscribe so you don’t miss Part II. I would also like to invite you to consider becoming a paid-subscriber of mystery and manners. Your donation will not only help me continue to write here on Substack but it will also go to help support our family in our work as parish missionaries.