You never imagined that it could come to this.

You have been married for years to your dear wife. You have been your beloved’s, and your beloved has been yours. Three sons and a daughter she bore you, four children that now watch you with a look you can’t describe. What an answer to prayer she has been. Your tears hold memories of life before the whispers came. Why is this happening?

You found out from your daughter. In disbelief you went to her with questions. The voice sounded the same, her hair framed her beauty as it always had, the dimple in her cheek and the birthmark on her neck remained where you left them. Yet someone else speaks as her mouth moves, telling foreign words of strange beliefs. The wife of your youth, your lovely doe, has become sick. An illness preys upon her soul. How did this happen? You resolve to reason with her quietly, surely she will snap out of it.

Time heats gentle persuasion into desperate pleading. She no longer follows Yahweh. She implores you and the kids to join her. There are gods elsewhere.

Days pass while leaving you in a nightmare from which you cannot wake. Her idolatry deepens. You would have preferred a grizzly death than see this day. You would have bid the stars crush you or the sea to swallow you before you witnessed her bowing to another than Yahweh. She is you, you are her, one flesh. Your rib has pursued death. And what is worse — you’re tempted to think — you know the Scriptures. You could turn a blind eye, but not a blind mind.

If your brother, the son of your mother, or your son or your daughter or the wife you embrace or your friend who is as your own soul entices you secretly, saying, “Let us go and serve other gods,” which neither you nor your fathers have known, some of the gods of the peoples who are around you. . . you shall not yield to him or listen to him, nor shall your eye pity him, nor shall you spare him, nor shall you conceal him. (Deuteronomy 13:6–8)

You shall not yield to her, listen to her, pity her, spare her . . . or conceal her. What then was the hardest thing you have ever done, you did: You brought your daughter and both told the elders her secret. The elders inquired and searched and asked diligently to be certain (Deuteronomy 13:14); she did not hide, did not yield. And again, you know the next lines,

But you shall kill [her]. Your hand shall be first against [her] to put [her] to death, and afterward the hand of all the people. You shall stone [her] to death with stones, because [she] sought to draw you away from the Yahweh your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. And all Israel shall hear and fear and never again do any such wickedness as this among you.

Never have you faced such a temptation to cast off Yahweh’s rule. You would give yourself to spare her. How can you sit by and watch her die, let alone be involved in her death, and even throw the first stone? Never has disobedience felt more right. Abraham brought Isaac up the mountain, and came down with him. This day would not end like that.

The community stands watching, waiting. “Your hand shall be first against her to put her to death, and afterward the hand of all the people.”

Cruelty, this is cruelty, the thought hisses into your mind. Before you can think it, she shouts, “The gods of the nations wouldn’t require you to stone your own wife!” Your eye, seeing through a flood, beholds the blurry shape of your dearest embrace, the mother of your children. And through the stillness your ear hears the word of your God, “Your eye shall not pity her, nor shall you spare her.” Your eye or your ear? Your wife or your God?

Could You Cast the Stone?

The scene is horrible even to imagine. It takes an emotional toll to consider. The rock in your hand, a mother, a daughter, a father, a husband, a best friend before you, the community surrounding you, and your God above. Moses knew this while writing,

If your brother, the son of your mother,or your son or your daughteror the wife you embrace (literally, “wife of your bosom”)or your friend who is as your own soul, entices you. . . .

Natural affection screams against the proceedings. This is not a faceless idolater but your beloved. The scene cuts the soul of all who see it; all who hear of it. It tests: to see whether we truly love Yahweh supremely or not (Deuteronomy 13:3). And it teaches. Teaches the fear of God and the proper appraisal of turning from the true God to other loves.

Have you, standing beside the solemn community, learned its lesson?

But God Isn’t Like That — Right?

The New Covenant is different from the Old. We do not execute false teachers or their apostates, do not “purge the evil from [our] midst” (Deuteronomy 13:5) by throwing stones. The closest thing we do — something just as serious — is church discipline and excommunication. When Paul tells the church at Corinth to “Purge the evil person from among you” (1 Corinthians 5:13), he means, “not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler — not even to eat with such a one” (1 Corinthians 5:11).

Yet, the difference between covenants is not the kind that some people want to make. Some imagine that the God of the Old Testament — the God who here would have idolaters and false prophets stoned — is somehow a bloodthirsty and brutal deity, while his divine Son, on the other hand, comes as the more moral, civil, and compassionate of the Godhead. They mention this Old Testament God with red face and ready-made apology. Reading this, they wonder, Why even reflect on such a text? This is not helping the gospel go forth.

“God values perfectly what we value imperfectly. He loves undyingly what we sputter to love and fail.”

Such reluctancies — in them and in ourselves — remind us of great news: God is not like you, not like me. He is more just, more holy, and more compassionate than we imagine, all at once. He is more appropriately tuned to reality than we. He values perfectly what we value imperfectly. He loves undyingly what we sputter to love and fail. He holds allegiances in perfect grasp, knows the weight of the crown upon his head, and legislates with mathematical perfection, despite our faltering algebra. That situation is horrible because sin is horrible, not God.

More Loving than God

Such texts help me (as I hope they help you) recalibrate my thinking and my feeling. They act as smelling salts to my sensibilities, confronting the weaknesses of my personality, community, and age. When I am tempted to imagine myself with a stone in hand, I feel my heart grow faint and shake its head. And when this occurs, when I let the text work on me, I begin to pray, “I believe, help my unbelief.” And I ask, Where are my loves crooked?

With my family, perhaps. I am not to lessen my love for family, but rather love God supremely, with my whole being. Christ reiterates that he will suffer no rivals (should we stand at the crossroad),

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. (Matthew 10:37)

Or, perhaps, with my God’s glory. In my imagining, I am more devastated by the consequence of sin than the affront of sin; more offended by the wages of sin than by the sin itself. I need to overhear how God teaches angels to feel about exchanging him for anything else:

Be appalled, O heavens, at this;be shocked, be utterly desolate,declares the Lord,for my people have committed two evils:they have forsaken me,the fountain of living waters,and hewed out cisterns for themselves,broken cisterns that can hold no water. (Jeremiah 2:12–13)

Or, perhaps, with my community. God shows mercy to the community through this hard lesson: “And all Israel shall hear and fear and never again do any such wickedness as this among you.” Others’ family members would fall if I lacked nerve to obey.

My “compassion” would value the creature over the Creator, high-handed rebellion over God’s glory, my wife’s unbelieving life over the faithful she would infect with her whispers of unbelief.

Let Goods and Kindred Go

Today, we are a people quick to trust our feelings, our judgments, our sense of things, with God somewhere comfortably in the background. Difficult texts like this remind us of the towering worth of God and the high allegiance of our calling. And such texts can test us, “to know whether you love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deuteronomy 13:3).

“We must decide now, as best we can and with God helping us, to never choose kin over King.”

One of Satan’s most successful snares is to infect faith through our closest relationships. Where God means for them to give life, he means death. We feel for those caught in the crossfire of a beloved’s war with God. But neither can we ignore the rotten fruit: pastors who change their minds on homosexuality because a son comes out; a Christian mother who capitulates on abortion because her daughter secretly procured one; a wife who concedes to universalism because her husband left the faith. Satan has robbed many through this backdoor.

A text like Deuteronomy 13 bids us decide now, as best we can and with God helping us, to never choose kin over King, should that dark day ever come. Though my heart be wrung watching him or her run after other gods, I will not. Although their sin twists my soul in knots I can’t untie, though the loss of that relationship pierces to the deepest part of me, and all the while the world’s gods taunt me that Christ is too narrow, too particular, that it’s not worth it — Lord, keep me yours.

Jesus is worthy to be our great love, and no less — a love we bend or break for none. Let God be true, though every loved one is false. Resolve now to sing to the end with Psalm 73:25–26,

Whom have I in heaven but you?And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.My flesh and my heart may fail,but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

The kind of man you hate reveals what kind of man you are. “But I hate him,” Ahab declared of Micaiah, God’s prophet.

Jehoshaphat, the righteous king of Judah, sat with Ahab, the wicked king of Israel, to deliberate one question: Should they go to war together against Syria? Peace had lasted three years with the pagan nation, but Ahab desired the strategic city of Ramoth-gilead for Israel. He questioned aloud to Jehoshaphat, “Do you know that Ramoth-gilead belongs to us, and we keep quiet and do not take it out of the hand of the king of Syria?” (1 Kings 22:3).

Jehoshaphat consents to fight with Ahab, but desires to hear first from the God of Israel. Ahab calls his four hundred prophets, who, with one voice, give their hearty Amen! “Go up,” they say, “for the Lord will give it into the hand of the king” (1 Kings 22:6).

The kind of men from whom you solicit counsel tells us what kind of man you are.

These men were no messengers of Yahweh, and King Jehoshaphat knew so. Diplomatically, he asks, “Is there not here another prophet of the Lord of whom we may inquire?” (1 Kings 22:7). To Jehoshaphat, four hundred counselors of any other god could not substitute for one man of Yahweh. There is one, Ahab reluctantly responds, Micaiah. “But I hate him,” Ahab gasps before discretion tutors the statement.

Why did Ahab hate the true prophet? “I hate him, for he never prophesies good concerning me, but evil” (1 Kings 22:8).

“The kind of man you hate can reveal what kind of man you are.”

Ahab loved the four hundred yes-men around him. He loved prophets feasting with him, prophesying pleasantries. He loved to hear his own positive thoughts returned to himself unaltered. He loved only affirming words, positive words — not the untamed and unpredictable words of God’s true prophet. The kind of man Ahab hated revealed the kind of man he was.

What Kind of Man Are You?

Now, to turn and see the story from Micaiah’s perspective (the point of this article): The kind of person who despises you also may tell you what kind of man you are. Ahab hated Micaiah because Ahab hated Micaiah’s God.

Wasn’t this because Ahab couldn’t comfortably untether the servant from his Master? Micaiah’s allegiance to the living God was not superficial — wasn’t a religious hobby to be picked up and put down. Ahab knew Micaiah didn’t serve the Lord just during office hours. His devotion went to the heart. Ahab would kill the prophet before he killed the prophet’s faith. Can the like be said of us?

This son of Imla was God’s man through and through. Whether talking to the false prophets or to the king himself, he was his Master’s man. Whether struck in the face and questioned by Zedekiah or thrown into jail by Ahab, he was his Master’s man. Whether Ahab invited him to feast at Jezebel’s table, or invited him for a wine-tasting from Naboth’s vineyard, or asked him about going to war with Syria — Ahab knew what he could expect from this lone prophet of the Lord: to deal with the Lord’s man. Ahab could expect God’s truth spoken through God’s messenger. And he hated him for it.

Confrontational Christlikeness?

So, we might then ask, do the right people dislike us?

What? you might think. If we are mature believers — truly humble and gentle and patient and loving and compassionate — will we really ever be disliked? Hatred and disgust may be reserved for those argumentative and obnoxious professors — but not us. Clanging cymbals, flies buzzing about the ear, hornets stinging any who disagree — these are rightly disliked. But we give the gentle answer. We listen and respect others.

Many Western Christians, it appears to me, are tempted with and indulgent in an agreeableness unknown to Micaiah. We stand ready to give the compassionate word, the soft encouragement, the positive uplift — but do not go on to ever risk anything that might displease. We are not disliked more because we do not say many things that are dislikable to the spirit of the age. Unbelievers at work or online or in our families feel free to parade their profanities and perversities before our ears and eyes without restraint, but it is ours, apparently, to keep quiet and let them perish out of politeness.

Nobody mistakes us for Jude, or Elijah, or Paul, or John the Baptist, or the Sons of Thunder. Or Jesus, for that matter. Zeal for our God and his house does not consume us. We avoid having to report, “the reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me” (Psalm 69:9). Jesus, in such whip-making, temple-clearing aggression, is not our choice brand of Christlikeness. Indeed, confrontational Christlikeness seems to them no Christlikeness at all — despite the New Testament’s consistent testimony to it.

Hated for the Master

Now, we need our gentle and beloved Johns. But we need to also acknowledge that our gentle and beloved John was also persecuted and exiled for being uncompromising with his Master’s truth. He wrote his last letter as a brother and partner in the tribulation, banished to “the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Revelation 1:9). Polish as we may, we cannot smooth over the offense of the cross.

So what am I saying? If no one dislikes you on account of Christ, it’s probably not because you have become greater, more endearing, more friendly to the lost than Jesus, the apostles, or the lineage of persecuted Christians and martyrs throughout church history. If no one dislikes you on account of Christ, it is likely because you have been too quiet about Jesus, too lukewarm for him, or too much like the world for them to notice the difference.

Was this not part of Jesus’s message to the disciples in the upper room?

If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you: “A servant is not greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. But all these things they will do to you on account of my name, because they do not know him who sent me. (John 15:19–21)

If we bear authentic witness to Jesus for long enough, the world will hate us. We don’t pursue their hatred, but we do prepare for it. Do you have a category for this? Do you expect pats on the head from those who would again nail your Master to a cross if they could? Should they treat us better than him? I have thought so — at least hoped so. My wrestlings in the quiet moment have been,

Must I be carried to the skiesOn flowery beds of ease,While others fought to win the prizeAnd sailed through bloody seas?

Are there no foes for me to face?Must I not stem the flood?Is this vile world a friend to grace,To help me on to God? (“Am I a Soldier of the Cross”)

“Woe to you,” Jesus taught, “when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets” (Luke 6:26). It is an ill omen for Ahab and his four hundred men to applaud. “What did I do wrong,” Socrates once asked, “that yonder villain praised me just now?” Spurgeon comments, “And so may the Christian say, ‘What, have I done wrong, that So-and-so spoke well of me, for if I had done right he would not; he has not the sense to praise goodness, he could only have applauded that which suited his own taste’” (“Citizenship in Heaven”).

The world’s hatred doesn’t always confirm our faithfulness to Christ. It may be owing to our own sin. But in this unruly world, we must consider, as Micaiah, that frowns, and even a jail cell, can be a better sign of fidelity than smiles and congratulations.

Love in a Hypersensitive Age

After a soft rebuke from Jehoshaphat, Ahab sends for the prophet of his disgust. When found, Ahab’s delegate preps Micaiah for the meeting: “Behold, the words of the prophets with one accord are favorable to the king. Let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favorably” (1 Kings 22:13). Speak favorably, Micaiah. Mind your tongue. Don’t worry — everyone else is doing it. Micaiah responds,

As the Lord lives, what the Lord says to me, that I will speak. (1 Kings 22:14)

As the Lord lives, what the Lord says to me, that I will speak. Is that my motto? Is it yours? Even when it will cost us?

A word to fellow pastors: We love to comfort our people. We love to encourage them. We love to bring them glad tidings of great news of God’s grace. This we not only must do — we get to do. We labor with them for their joy (2 Corinthians 1:24). And yet, in an age hypersensitive to hard words, we still must warn, must correct, must rebuke sheep and wolves out of love — come what may.

“Some curses can be compliments — and more than compliments, blessings.”

Just as we can find too much Ahab in the culture (and even in the church), we also might find too little Micaiah in us. But as Christ lives, what our God says, that must we speak.

Sacred Fools

David Wells, in his classic No Place for Truth, gives us the picture of the pastor in the modern world as “the Sacred Fool.” Refusing to “lead by holding aloft moist fingers to sense the changes in the wind,” this man stands beholden to his Master. Wells explains,

So long as they cloaked their advice in humor, jesters were able to say things to kings and princes that might have been fatal for anyone else to say. Happy was the king who had a good fool. And happy are those churches whose ministers are likewise emancipated from the bonds of class interest and social expectation, freed to expose the follies of modernity in light of God’s truth. (250)

What kind of men are we? Are we sacred fools for Jesus who have been liberated from class interest and social expectation? Are we the King’s men? Curses can be compliments — and more than compliments, blessings. “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man!” (Luke 6:22).

The kind of men who hate us will reveal what kind of men we are.

ABSTRACT: Sport and competition can easily arouse pride, insecurity, envy, and malice. Yet they also can afford opportunities to express a healthy, deeply human inclination to play. Play finds its roots in God himself, whose creation reflects not only exactness but exuberance. He created humans in his image to reflect, in part, his playful, non-utilitarian creativity. More than that, the saving presence of God often inspires expressions of play such as singing, leaping, dancing, and merrymaking. Christians play well in the midst of a broken world when they soberly acknowledge the reality of sin and sorrow, while at the same time remembering that Christ’s kingdom of joy is on the way.

For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, we asked Erik Thoennes, professor and chair of theology at Talbot School of Theology, Biola University, to offer a brief theology of play.

Western culture views sport in two drastically different ways. One has preserved within sport the healthy, joyful expression of the deep human inclination to play; the other has locked into a utilitarian understanding of sport that squelches play and its perspective-giving power. One appreciates the actual process of playing a sport; the other has sadly turned sport into an expression of human pride, insecurity, envy, and malice. As Christians, what will keep us from turning sport into something ugly rather than beautiful?

Sport is playful competition, or you could also call it competitive play. At the heart of a healthy understanding of sport is the proper balance between competition and play. To that end, a robust appreciation of play is sure to help. Among the many factors we could consider in answering the question of what it means for Christians to play the way God intends, in this essay I want to consider the necessity of keeping play in competitive sport for the glory of God. The main question I want to answer is, How does play help us to fulfill our created purpose in this beautiful yet tragically fallen world? First, we will briefly define play. We then will look at play in the Bible. Finally, we will consider play in light of God’s purpose in creation, humanity, and salvation history.

Defining Play

We can define play as a fun, imaginative, non-compulsory, non-utilitarian activity filled with creative spontaneity and humor, which gives perspective, diversion, and rest from the necessary work of daily life.1 In light of God’s sovereignty and faithful love, play for the Christian should demonstrate and encourage hope, delight, gratitude, and celebration.

Play and fun go hand in hand.2 One cannot truly play without a sense of good-natured humor and fun that at times invokes deep laughter. Play has the potential to totally absorb the player. Fun need not be frivolous, however. The sacred should never be trivialized by making fun a major priority, but freed slaves are inclined to sing, and play and fun are byproducts of expressing one’s freedom. Although fun is a necessary part of the definition of play, play is not the opposite of seriousness and can be very serious indeed.

Another aspect of play is that it is non-compulsory. Play must express freedom and therefore cannot be imposed on anyone. Humans are created to exercise freedom — and indeed, imposed circumstances often spark playful expressions of freedom.

“The value of play is elusive; as soon as you dwell on the pragmatics of it, it ceases to be play.”

Play is also fundamentally non-utilitarian. The pragmatic results of play must necessarily fade to the background, to an almost subconscious level, lest the pure playfulness of play be lost. Play may lead to accomplishing goals but does not depend on it, and it most certainly has the potential of accomplishing much if it is allowed to be more than merely a means to an end. The value of play is elusive; as soon as you dwell on the pragmatics of it, it ceases to be play.

True play includes imagination, creativity, and spontaneity. To play means entering a world of make-believe where the players act as if the agreed-upon rules, boundaries, and goals really matter and exist. This has parallels in the Christian life in that the exercise of faith and hope require a kind of imagination. While Christian faith is not based in a fictitious world of make-believe, it does require creatively imagining something God has promised in order to trust in him. Living with faith and hope leads to the kind of joyful discipleship God requires of his people.

Finally, play provides needed perspective, diversion, and rest. Like the arts, play can afford “counter-environments”3 that provide freedom from dwelling on the daily difficulties of life in a fallen world. Play should not serve to anesthetize Christians to life’s burdens, preventing them from engaging those burdens wholeheartedly; rather, it should provide a needed, hopeful Sabbath from their relentless presence.

Play and Competition

The inherent tension between competition and play does not mean they are unable to fruitfully coexist. Competition can increase the potential for true play, and play has the potential to heighten the enjoyment of competition. Sport requires a commitment to an imaginary world where the participants agree to act as though the made-up parameters of space, time, and the rules of the game really exist and matter. This is why we despise a spoilsport more than a cheat. The cheat acts as if the rules exist, even though he is trying to break them, but the spoilsport breaks out of the commitment to the imaginary world of play by scoffing at the very existence of the world that the game requires.

Competition intensifies the participants’ commitment to the world of make-believe where play thrives. Play keeps the competitor from losing perspective and seeing the final score as more important than playing the game.

Serious Play

Christians are commanded to live carefully and wisely and to make the most of the time we have “because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:15–16). Stewarding our time wisely and seeking eternal rewards should lead to a sense of peaceful urgency because the time we have is short (Psalm 32:6; Romans 13:11–13). We may think, then, that the Christian life affords no place for activities that seem so unessential as sport, play, and recreation. Certainly, for a Christian, play should never have a trivializing effect on life. God and life are not to be trifled with, and play in this sense has no place in the Christian life. If play serves merely to divert rather than to give hopeful perspective, it can actually prevent serious transformative engagement with a world badly in need of redemption.

“Play can serve to remind those who are burdened and heavy laden that there is rest and restoration on the way.”

An eternal perspective, however, should lead to both diligent, earnest engagement with gospel ministry and restful playfulness as we trust in the God who knows the beginning from the end. The sovereign grace of God frees Christians to seriously play even in the midst of the suffering all around us in this fallen world. Paradoxically, there is a vital connection between suffering and play. Those who most recognize the difficulty of life in a fallen world are often able to play and laugh best. Play and playfulness can serve to remind those who are burdened and heavy laden that there is rest and restoration on the way. These moments of emancipation can remind the faithful of the ultimate liberation coming when God makes all things new (Revelation 21:5).

Play in the Bible

The Bible never explicitly addresses play. The Bible is a mostly serious book that seeks to pull the reader from his sinful, God-ignoring sloth and distraction to an earnest pursuit of his Creator and then to holy living. But the seriousness in the Bible often sets the stage for the unbridled joy of knowing God — joy that is often expressed in playful exuberance. Most of the elements of our working definition of play — fun, free, spontaneous, creative, non-utilitarian — are found throughout Scripture, especially in response to the liberating, saving presence of God himself. This sense of play, it seems, has its origin in God himself.

Biblical words translated as a variation of “play” (sachaq, shaa, and raqad in the Old Testament, paizo in the New Testament) can also carry meanings of amusement, merrymaking, celebration, laughter, sport, delight, mocking, dancing, frolicking, leaping, and prancing. The most common kind of play in the Bible is the playing of instruments. Music, depending on the kind, can be a profoundly playful expression. Humans, animals, and creation itself are portrayed as having an indelible playfulness woven into them.

To understand play in the Bible, as we shall see, we also need to appreciate related concepts such as laughter, Sabbath, feasts, festivals, childlikeness, and music. These activities are impossible to do well apart from serious play. So, our study of play in the Bible will not be limited to passages where words translated play occur. Rather, we will focus on examples where main components of play are present. These occur most often when God’s presence, grace, and glory are most evident to his covenant people.

Playful God

God created the universe with amazing order. He also guides our lives in his wise providence, which assures us that nothing happens apart from his careful, perfect plan, which culminates in his glory and our good (Romans 8:28). But in the midst of God’s wise ordering of the universe and perfect execution of his purposes, he works with a creative, playful extravagance.

This is evident in both the creation itself and God’s interaction with it. The description of God’s creative activity in Psalm 104, for instance, gives us a picture not only of God’s awesome power and wisdom, but also of his abundant playfulness in his creative work — gushing springs, singing birds, wine that gladdens hearts, and abundantly watered trees all point to a fabulous display of lavish divine activity. As the psalmist describes the immense and powerful sea, the greatest sea creature of all, Leviathan, is said to have been formed by God “to play in it” (Psalm 104:26). This verse may even imply that God himself is at play with Leviathan in the seas he has created!4

The overwhelming artistic variety we see in creation indicates that there is not only an intelligent designer behind it, but also a playful artist. The sheer variety of tastes, colors, sounds, textures, and shapes in creation indicates anything but pure utilitarian motivation by its Creator. God is both skillful architect and creative artist. He does nothing based in need (Acts 17:24–25; Psalm 50:9–12), so creation, like play, is “meaningful but not necessary.”5 In creating and sustaining everything, and in accomplishing redemption, God’s pleasure and glory are his primary motives (Isaiah 43:7; Matthew 10:26; Luke 11:21; Ephesians 1:5, 9, 11–12). Creation is God at play, “a play of his groundless and inscrutable wisdom.”6 Creation, and life itself, become a source of pleasure and delight for those who delight in the Creator and the work of his hands.

We get glimpses of the playfulness of God also in Christ’s teaching, which often includes verbal sparring. Jesus’s parables frequently contain humorous exaggeration (the beam in the hypocrite’s eye, Matthew 7:5), word play (Peter’s new nickname, Matthew 16:18), and irony (asking whether the people who went to see John the Baptist had gone out to see someone “in soft clothing,” Matthew 11:8).

Play and the Coming Kingdom

The most stirring images of play in the Bible occur in attempts to express the joy and freedom experienced in the coming kingdom of God. One of the most vivid of these images appears in Zechariah 8:5: “The streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets.” God gives his people a beautiful scene of the eschaton to look forward to: children playing with uninhibited, unhindered freedom. Isaiah 11:8–9 offers a similar picture of the freedom to be found in the heavenly city. Fearless, childlike play, no longer inhibited by the effects of sin and the curse, is a key metaphor of Christ’s kingdom. Similar images of playful celebration and merrymaking abound in other prophetic glimpses of what the New Jerusalem brings (for example, Jeremiah 30:18–19; 31:4, 13–14).

“Fearless, childlike play, no longer inhibited by the effects of sin and the curse, is a key metaphor of Christ’s kingdom.”

One of the tenderest pictures of God’s deep care for his people is found in his promise of a restored Jerusalem. He likens it to the care of a compassionate mother for her little baby (Isaiah 66:12). In the restoration, God provides the security and freedom a child experiences while playfully dandled on her mother’s knee. These images call to mind Jesus holding up a child as the prototype of the kind of person to whom the kingdom of God belongs (Matthew 19:14). Jesus calls his followers to an attitude of childlike dependence and trust in God, and this kind of trust invariably leads to childlike play as we see God’s fulfilled covenant promises.

Playful, spontaneous exuberance sparked by God’s presence and blessing is also vividly displayed in David’s joyful worship when the ark of the covenant was returned from the Philistines. David looks downright childlike as he celebrates the symbol of God’s abiding presence reentering Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6:5, 14, 20–22). David’s celebration epitomizes key elements of our definition of play. His enthusiastic, exuberant dancing and leaping was free, creative, fun, and non-utilitarian, and it demonstrated and encouraged hope, delight, gratitude, and celebration.

David’s playful dancing and leaping mirrors other responses of joy over God’s restoring power and presence (Psalm 87:7; 114:4; Isaiah 35:6; Malachi 4:2; Jeremiah 31:4, 13; Luke 1:44; 6:23; Acts 3:8). One would be hard pressed to think of a less practical, less constrained, less mandatory, less boring activity than leaping and dancing. This is the exuberant response of pardoned prisoners.

Those who fail to understand God’s astounding grace have no appreciation for this sort of impractical, unrestrained worship. The woman in Luke 7 dismissed pharisaical decorum when she kissed Jesus’s feet and used her tears and hair to anoint his feet with oil. She stands as a vivid and powerful picture of a sinner who understood grace (Luke 7:36–50). This same disposition was displayed by the woman who “wasted” expensive ointment anointing Jesus. She did a “beautiful thing” to Jesus in preparation for his burial and realized that unrestrained appreciation was warranted (Mark 14:3–9). His disciples failed to have her perspective at this moment, but most of them would welcome it once the Author of life left an empty tomb behind.

Sabbath and Rest

Beyond explicit play-oriented passages, Sabbath observance in the Bible helps us understand the value of play. Sabbath-keeping forced God’s people to disengage from providing for themselves and remember the ultimate source of their daily bread. The Creator and Sustainer built a mandatory rest into each week to get his people to put their efforts at survival into perspective. Even more radically, God instituted the Sabbath when his people were in the wilderness, where failure to fend for yourself could mean death. Resting in God’s sufficiency and power wars against a human-centered view of life and demands we surrender any vestige of self-sufficiency.

Similarly, Isaiah rebukes Israel and seeks to free them from thinking their efforts were the ultimate source of their protection (Isaiah 41:13–14). In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus also seeks to quell the pride that leads to anxiety about our provision (Matthew 6:25–33). In this passage, Jesus is saying, “How dare you worry? Who do you think you are — the sovereign God?” James also corrects a heightened view of human planning by comparing it to God’s comprehensive sovereignty (James 4:13–17).

None of these exhortations is intended to undercut human effort, attentiveness, passion, diligence, or responsibility. Isaiah, Jesus, and James all worked extremely hard and took their human decisions and activity seriously. Human activity, however, must always be subservient to the overarching plan and power of God. God calls us to the freedom and Sabbath rest that lead to childlike dependence, trust, and holy play.

Hopeful Play

How can we ever justify playing when hunger and abortion kill millions of children every year and wars rage around the globe? Without sober acknowledgment of sin, play can become a mere distraction or obsession. But because of God’s sovereign power to bring a wonderful conclusion to all of the ambiguities and suffering in life (Romans 8:28), the Christian has hope and can truly play in righteous measure.

A game’s clear, definitive result is part of its appeal. The 24-hour news cycle reveals never-ending political, national, international, interpersonal, and religious conflicts. It is no wonder many readers turn first to the sports section to discover yesterday’s results. While the clear resolution sport offers is part of its draw, ironically, interest in play and sport rests largely on the uncertainty of the final outcome. We lose interest in games if the outcome is assured before the game starts. This is why parity in sports leagues is vital to maintaining interest. There must be a good measure of uncertainty as to what will transpire and what the end result will be. The more tension created by this uncertainty, the more engaged we become with the game.

This creative, spontaneous uncertainty is central to the definition of play and at the heart of the intrigue of sport. It also mirrors the tension at the heart of the drama of human history. The spontaneous uncertainty with an eventual ending inherent in play reflects the unfolding story of our lives. Like games, our lives are filled with uncertainties that lead to one final result. Play can equip a person to deal with uncertainties on the way to the conclusion. For a Christian, the promised good conclusion to the difficulty of life in a fallen world brings a deep enjoyment of play as it dramatizes a life that ends well.

Hope of the Cross

God’s redeeming power that evokes play and laughter from believers is seen most powerfully in the “folly” of the redemptive work of Christ (1 Corinthians 1–2). The juxtaposing ironies in his life are many: the glorious Creator becomes a baby, the Creator of all beauty has nothing in his appearance to attract us to him, the source of all joy becomes the man of sorrows, the Holy One is cursed and crucified. His life conjures images of a man chasing an impossible dream, except Jesus doesn’t remain dead at the end — and all our hopes and dreams come true in him.

“When play is grounded in the hope of the gospel, it can become one of life’s greatest and most encouraging pleasures.”

The gospel leads to play, for it expresses our ability to transcend the brokenness of our world. We momentarily see the human predicament as not only daunting but fixable (Romans 8:20–22). The Christian worldview recognizes the relentless difficulty of life in our cursed world, but it also recognizes that the world is being redeemed by the one who created and cursed it. So we have hope, and play, in the midst of our brokenness. “He suffered that we may laugh again. . . . In the cross of Christ God is taking man dead-seriously so that he may open up for him the happy freedom of Easter.”7 Without hope, play becomes merely a diversion from life’s troubles rather than a hopeful expression of the freedom to come in the eschaton. When play is an end in itself, it can become a frivolous idol that keeps us from dealing with the human predicament. When play is grounded in the hope of the gospel, it can become one of life’s greatest and most encouraging pleasures.

Heaven: The Play of Eternity

Christian play is a response of those who know God as their Father — who know that he has overcome the world and that he loves to abundantly share the spoils of this victory with his children. God’s saving power leads to great joy among God’s people (Psalm 126:2). This joy is possible even when life is brutal (Luke 6:21). Tears and empty stomachs are not the whole story. God will bring ultimate healing one day.

Christian play should see suffering for what it is, but always through the eyes of cross-centered hope. Following Jesus turns pain into glory, confusion into wonder, sin into redemption, Good Friday into Easter Sunday. God invites us to come to him as his free, forgiven, secure children. To be sure, we are to approach our holy God with healthy fear and hearts broken by our broken world, but God’s people are also called to rejoice, sing, play, and laugh because we know that the owner of all things is working out his perfect plan, which ends with a wedding banquet and perfect resolution and rest. This sure hope in God’s sovereign power and loving-kindness enables us to play with abandon, even before the great wedding banquet begins.