Play as Worship
You don’t need an advanced degree in human psychology to know that we are wired to play. Babies grab for shiny things, toddlers grab around in a play kitchen, children make swords of sticks in the woods, teenagers play video games, and adults put together puzzles and set up the pieces for chess, Catan, and bocce ball. We need blanket forts, dress-up, trivia, dodgeball, hockey, go fish, peek-a-boo, and Candy Crush. We throw a ball, deal a card, answer a question, and move a piece on the board. Playing is an integral part of being human.
You also don’t need an advanced degree to know that playing is something that brings people together. Children on a playground play cops and robbers, boys versus girls, capture the flag, grounders, tag, and countless other games in a complex social hierarchy. Playing with someone means learning about them, becoming friends, and understanding your place. Being excluded from play is anxiety-inducing, lonely, and isolating.
Think of it like this: as a child, being asked to play in a game means you’re part of the group. If you’re drawn in to play freeze tag, you get to run away, squealing, with everyone else. You now have a shared experience that makes you “us” rather than “them.” Or think of it like this: you’re invited to a game night by a friend, and their other friends, who you don’t know, will be there. When you’re separated into teams, or made to sit beside someone new, you can quickly become friends or learn about each other through having to work together or competing against each other.
Playing together, like eating together, can bridge social differences in important ways. But it doesn’t happen naturally or easily. In the same way that Jesus went out of his way to eat with people different from him, humans have to go out of their way to play with people different from them.
Look at children on the playground, once again. Girls tend to group up with girls, and boys with boys. Once a friend group is formed, outsiders tend not to get invited in. Games of jump rope, or tag, or hide and seek form from kids who are already drawn to each other. Adults do this as well; if a friend invites you to game night, chances are the other people you don’t know will still be similar to you in terms of class, race, or other demographic.
So if playing together can bridge these differences, then how come it’s so much easier to play with people we’re already comfortable with?
Life is easier with people like us. But Jesus calls us to eat and play with unexpected people in order to learn more about his transformative love. The intrinsic desire to play is built into all of us, and it reflects the joy of the Kingdom of Heaven. By playing with all people, expected and not, we can come to learn more about each other and more about Jesus.
In the liturgy of Spring Church, we celebrate how the Kingdom of Heaven is coming to earth by playing with each other. We find joy as a congregation in games, puzzles, trivia, and all kinds of play that reflect our human desire for fun and connection. Being asked to play means you’re a part of the group, and belonging is a crucial part of loving. Though our friendship may be uncommon, the discipleship of play, with Jesus, is something we have in common, and heralds the coming of Heaven.
I know that through playing at Spring Church, I’ve learned things about my friends that might not have never come up otherwise. I know that laughter, competition, and creativity bring out some of the best in us and break down barriers that have stood for too long. My body matters at church—my whole body, embodied in playing, and participating in a liturgy that “still counts” as worship. Playing together anticipates Heaven coming together with earth, and it teaches us more and more about the transformative nature of Jesus’ love.