Leisure

Leisure was not a problem to me until I became sixteen. At that age my father confronted me with “the negative spiritual implications” of my serious pursuit of leisure. I had my own photographic darkroom, a stamp collection, a home-built hi-fi system, a record collection of jazz and Bach, and a workroom where I made water skis, boats and wooden furniture. I worked hard at school (my occupation in those days); I also played hard, but I hardly ever did nothing—such as lounging on the sofa or soaking up the sun. “But it’s all for number one [meaning me],” complained my father.

Thus began my lifelong fascination with and fear of leisure. This was heightened when I became a Christian. The equation of godliness with religious busyness runs deep in the Christian soul. We have a work ethic but no equivalent leisure ethic. Work is seen as dignified, meaningful, purposeful, and even as a ministry. But what about leisure? Can it be holy? Are some leisure activities (or inactivities) holy and others not?

The Many Faces of Nonwork

Leisure is normally defined in terms of “freedom from,” principally freedom from the demands of work. But a more rounded definition includes the idea of “freedom for” something. Nonetheless, as G. K. Chesterton pointed out, this freedom is complex because it includes freedom to do something, freedom to do anything and freedom to do nothing (Rybczynski, p. 15). For example, freedom to do something is the leisure of taking a canoe trip in the wilderness, something I could not have done during the university student year. Even the freedom to get away to the country can have a work dimension, as I soon learned when our family acquired a summer cottage and we snaked our way weekend after weekend in a line of cars “to get away from it all.” Leisure, further, may be freedom to do anything, such as waking up on Labor Day with no set plans, free to choose between going for a bike ride, reading a good book, listening to Brahms or going to a movie—or all four! What makes it leisureful is the fact there is no compulsion, no obligation and no premeditation. But for Chesterton, himself a workaholic, the purest form of leisure is the freedom to do nothing, the very thing many Christians—because they lack a good theology—are unable to do without guilt (see Vacations).

Freedom to do something. Recreation seems to fit Chesterton’s first definition best. It is leisure that is action-filled and result-oriented, a form of employment. It is planned leisure, like the weekly tennis match or the morning jog. While it is a form of freedom, it is intimately related to what we do the rest of the week. This could be called useful leisure since it provides a diversion from our normal activities. But what about useless leisure?

Hobbies are leisure activities that have no value to anyone other than the person who engages in them, whether it is stamp collecting or raising tropical fish. So many things can be included in Chesterton’s first category: crafts (see Quilting), playing a musical instrument (see Music; Music, Christian), taking photos (see Photography) or making home movies, traveling, experimenting with gourmet cooking (see Eating; Meal Preparation) and walking. All of these, while potentially restorative, may be chosen intentionally, thoughtfully and regularly. But what of the leisure of not even having a plan?

Freedom to do anything. It is precisely to gain the freedom to do anything that many city dwellers aspire to have a weekend country retreat. Witold Rybczynski analyzes this trend to get away from it all from the time of Pliny to the present (pp. 162-85) to show that the rustic cottage is not rural life itself (see Farming; Community, Rural) but a mirror image of the city. This form of leisure has been thoroughly commercialized through the promotion of leisure parks, leisure homes and leisure toys such as the ATV (all-terrain vehicle) and the jet boat. Indeed the automobile was first of all a plaything, an instrument of leisure, allowing as it did the owners to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted without relying on the scheduling of public transportation (see Commuting; Mobility).

The most common form of leisure chosen by North Americans is television, which is too often a passive activity, though it does not necessarily have to be. Virtual reality ratchets the level of near-total engagement a notch further. In contrast reading, now that it is mainly a private solitary activity rather than a shared group one, allows one to become engaged on a voluntary basis, filling in the blanks with one’s imagination. Entertainment in all of its forms is easily accessed by going to a movie, attending a concert (see Culture) or getting a video to watch for the evening. Leisure and culture in all of its forms are intimately related. We are making, and not merely expressing, culture by what we choose when we can do anything. The root word for leisure in the Latin is licere, which means “to be permitted.” Leisure is really a state of the mind, a habit or habitus of the soul. But some choices do more to nurture our souls than others.

The leisures noted above all spring from the freedom to do anything and offer the opportunity to cultivate one’s own particular pleasure. But what about Chesterton’s purest form of leisure—the freedom to do nothing? Christians especially fear this kind of leisure because of the many scriptural prohibitions against idleness and sloth, sloth being one of the seven deadly sins.

Leisure as sloth. Several New York advertising agencies were commissioned, tongue in cheek, to promote the seven deadly sins. It was an ironical assignment, since most advertising actually cultivates these very temptations. The ad for sloth was especially insightful. It showed Adam and Eve in the pristine beauty of the Garden experiencing exquisite pleasure. “If the original sin had been sloth,” opined the copywriter, “we would still be in Paradise.” The ad contains a half-truth: ambition turned bad (the opposite of sloth) led to the expulsion from the Garden. It also contains a half-error: a slothful person would never enjoy the Garden, let alone cultivate it! Sloth and idleness are usually regarded as identical, but this is not necessarily the case.

Hardly anyone has more eloquently expounded the sin of sloth than the seventeenth-century Puritan Richard Baxter. In his comprehensive guide to everyday life, sloth and idleness are carefully distinguished: “Sloth signifieth chiefly the indisposition of the mind and body; and idleness signifieth the actual neglect or omission of our duties. Sloth is an averseness to labor, through a carnal love of ease, or indulgence to the flesh” (part 1, x, p. 378). Sloth is easily identified: when the very thought of labor is troublesome, when ease seems sweet, when the easy part of some duty is culled out, when you work with a constant weariness of mind, when you consistently offer excuses or delays and when little impediments stop you.

The best of the Puritans actually had a positive understanding of leisure. One of the earliest, Richard Rogers, advocated a daily schedule made up of eight hours of work, eight hours of sleep and eight hours of relaxation with friends, books or the creation. The original Puritan attitude toward the sabbath was not of a day full of restrictions on what people could or could not do, but a day free from the burden of work that could be given to all kinds of playful activities, for example, playing games, enjoying company or leisurely reading. Baxter’s searing judgment, mentioned earlier, must be understood in the context of the Puritan doctrine of work and calling: “Suffer not your fancies to run after sensual, vain delights; for these will make you weary of your callings” (p. 382). Every person, not just ministers and missionaries, has the call of God on his or her life, a call to serve God for the common good (commonweal). Sloth is a vocational sin, living as though one had not been summoned by God to a holy purpose (Ephes. 4:1).

The good of doing nothing. Leisure as doing nothing need not be sloth if it arises, as Luther would say, from the Word of God and prayer (that is, meaning it is an actual sign that you believe God is running the world and you can therefore take some rest). But when doing nothing is separated from an all-embracing vocation of living to the glory of God (Ephes. 1:12), leisure may be sloth. In the Western world retirement often plunges a person into a life of socialized and institutionalized sloth, though it need not do so (see Volunteer Work). In many Third World countries older people still work and rest, having meaningful roles in their families, farms and villages. We have much to learn about leisure from so-called underdeveloped societies.

In summary, doing nothing, as well as doing something and anything, may be useful in the deepest sense, though not in a utilitarian way. At its simplest level leisure is a diversion providing the opportunity to set aside our normal employment so that we can break out of our routines and experience a needed release. At a deeper level leisure provides relaxation and rest, refreshing us for all of life. Slothful people, as well as workaholics, are bored or boring. Still deeper leisure is restorative, providing opportunity for creative thoughts, cultivating memories and gaining perspective. But at its deepest level leisure is transformative, contributing to our continual conversion into childlike people who enjoy God and delight in God’s creation. To understand and experience leisure fully, and to resist trivializing it or turning it into a purely consumer activity as much popular culture tempts us to do, we must think biblically.

Called to Leisure

There are three great biblical themes that will help us develop a theology and spirituality of leisure. Taken together, these themes show that leisure is not avocational (something we do as an alternative to our calling) but truly part of our vocation.

The mandate to enjoy God’s creation. Unfortunately, theologians have concentrated on the “dominion” or “rule” aspect of the so-called creation mandate (Genesis 1:28) and have neglected the implications of God’s joy over creation (Genesis 1:31). God’s will is that humankind flourish. It takes more than work to fulfill this God-given vocation; it also takes enjoyment, luxuriating in God’s bounty, experiencing pure delight and real leisure. Adam and Eve were placed as kings and queens in a pleasure garden that was, at the same time, a sanctuary garden for meeting with God. Life was meant to be fun and holy at the same time.

Two Old Testament books expound God’s good gift of enjoyment. The book of Ecclesiastes contains a dim view of the pursuit of pleasure that is the result of human striving and ingenuity, but strongly affirms that God has given us power to enjoy life (Eccles. 3:13; Eccles. 5:19). The Song of Songs expounds the meaning of Adam’s exclamation of praise to God at finding and enjoying a partner suitable for him (Genesis 2:23). Sex play in the right context can be holy play (Stevens, pp. 60-64). Indeed, play can link us with God as much as work does. So one mark of the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives is the ability to live exuberantly. Leisure is a subset of joy, and joy is what Jesus came to bring (John 15:11). Being bored is an insult to God (see Boredom). So is living compulsively as though we could fulfill ourselves.

The theology of grace. Humankind, now fallen in sin and twisted in nature, is accepted by God solely and simply by God’s undeserved kindness expressed in the death and resurrection of Christ and appropriated by faith. People who do not trust God’s grace will either work or play themselves to death trying to find salvation by their own efforts. To do nothing leaves them feeling guilty. In contrast, people with confidence in the gospel are free to do nothing. The Old Testament sign of this was sabbath, which was the weekly statement that Israel could trust God to care and provide. People who cannot “afford” (in the nonmonetary sense) to experience leisure as part of the daily round are taking themselves too seriously and not taking God seriously enough. Both leisure and sabbath are playful, restorative and nonutilitarian. But sabbath is contemplative—directed toward God; leisure is more hedonistic—directed toward ourselves. Sabbath is a divine requirement; leisure is a divine permission. Sabbath is a boon to society, to culture and even the earth, aiming at the threefold harmony of God, humankind and creation; leisure is essentially a personal freedom and pleasure. In other words, sabbath is more central to our vocation as God-imaging men and women than is leisure.

The theology of time. In the Western world time is a commodity, a resource to be managed, rather than a gift of God. Often people think they can organize quality time with their spouse, children, friends or even themselves by scheduling time. Compulsive personalities bring to the planning of their vacations all the tendencies of scheduling they use in business. But quality time with God, self and others cannot be organized. One enters expectantly into more free-floating time, all the while making quantity time available by “wasting” it “unproductively.”

Often the most memorable moments on a vacation are those completely unplanned, the true surprises—the flat tire on the car that resulted in your seeking help at a nearby farm, where a calf was being born; being stormbound on a canoe trip and telling your life story to a companion; the “chance” discovery while traveling of ancient fresco on the ceiling of a hermit’s cave. Surprise links us with our most surprising God, who alone in the universe has the leisure to do “whatever pleases him” (Psalm 115:3). So a theology of time will help us to waste time in a holy way and to welcome surprise. Leisure is part of what makes life a holy adventure. The adventure, however, is not without temptation. Just as work is fraught with temptations (chiefly to establish our identity by what we do), so leisure is a testing ground.

The Temptations of Leisure

Whether, like Jesus, one is “led by the Spirit into the desert” (Matthew 4:1) or merely goes into the wilderness (or a first-class hotel) in search of a change or a rest, leisure may entail wrestling with subtle diversions. Earlier we explored the besetting sin of sloth. Here we will attempt to get inside sloth by exploring the three temptations of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden (with which one may compare the three temptations set out in 1 John 2:16).

The first was the temptation to experience godless sensuality. Eve saw that the forbidden fruit was “good for food” (Genesis 3:6). Scripture does not suggest anything negative about the goodness of the fruit’s taste, nor does it prohibit sensual enjoyment. All of the delights of the body—taste, sight, smell, touch and sexual pleasure—in their place are part of a genuinely human existence. Too much of the church’s tradition has been influenced by Neo-Platonic dualism; it has tried to make angels out of Christians and exalted the monastic life as the epitome of discipleship.

The issue, however, is between godly and godless sensuality. The first involves obedience and glorifying God. Enjoying food, wine and sensual pleasure can and should lead to increased gratitude to God and exuberance in daily life. But it can also separate us from God. The difference between gluttony (one of the seven deadly sins) and holy feasting is spirituality (see Eating). The glutton lives to eat and, therefore, never gets enough and eventually becomes bored through satiation. The Christian lives for God and, therefore, enjoys a good meal as an act of worship and does this with thanksgiving (Romans 14:6).

The second temptation was to cultivate a godless aesthetic. Eve observed that the fruit was “pleasing to the eye” (Genesis 3:6). Typically leisure experiences involve things that are visually satisfying: exquisite photography in a movie, a wild storm pounding a frail campsite, mountains clothed in layers of shaded blue and a piece of art. But the aesthetic experience has its own temptation. Thomas Jefferson once described his experience of seeing a large Drouais canvas: “I lost all idea of time, even the consciousness of my own existence.” This is similar to the experience of the rock climber who said, “One tends to get immersed in what’s going on around him . . . so involved that he might lose consciousness of his own identity and melt into the rock” (Csikszentmihalyi, p. vii). The aesthetic experience engages people so deeply that they feel released from concerns about past and future, losing self-consciousness in what is an intrinsically satisfying experience. In this respect it is much like play. And like play, if divorced from the rest of our vocation or from relationship with God, the aesthetic experience tempts us to think we have gained human transcendence—a contradiction in terms.

The issue is not what one sees but how. The difference is between looking as a mere physical activity and seeing, which like hearing and listening involves the whole person and calls for insight, judgment and spiritual discernment. Leisure can offer the opportunity to slow down and to concentrate, to see and not just to look, and by seeing to discover “the world in a grain of sand . . . eternity in an hour” (William Blake), thus equipping us to return to the rest of our life with open eyes and a heart that leaps up to God.

The third and most subtle temptation was the seduction of godless experience. Eve noted that the forbidden fruit was “desired to make one wise” (Genesis 3:6 NRSV). The devil had suggested that if Adam and Eve acted independently from God, they could become “like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5), “knowing” not just in the intellectual sense but in the Hebrew sense of full intercourse with the object of knowing. Here is the nub of the matter. Adam and Eve were tempted to transcend their creatureliness, to have the experience of both good and evil without reference to God—in other words, to become divine themselves. To do this they had to become practical atheists, living as though there were no other god. The heart of sin is simply failing to live in perpetual gratitude (see Festivals—Thanksgiving) and reverence of God (Romans 1:21). This is the issue behind the most inward of the Ten Commandments—the exhortation not to covet (Exodus 20:17). Do we love God enough to be content? If not, we must always crave some new experience, which, though it has the appearance of leisure like any addiction, is subject to the law of diminishing returns.

The antidote to all this, as Richard Baxter reminds us, is passion for God, zeal for the church and the people of God, a deep, intelligent and willful hunger to know God. This passion takes a constant resolution of the soul to do God’s will that is more like natural heat than a fever. It involves repenting of sin and embracing God’s Word as a way of life: “Zeal and diligence are the victorious enemies of sin and Satan. . . . Zeal burneth up lust, and covetousness, and pride and sensuality” (Baxter, p. 384).

Contrary to what many may think, however, this passion for God does not lead to the religionizing of leisure, such as establishing Christian leisure parks and spiritual cruises and producing Christian music albums (see Music, Christian). On the contrary, it is precisely in the ordinary that we are to find God. So, rather than cataloging approved “Christian” leisure activities (or inactivities), we now briefly consider some practical guidelines that will deepen our experience of leisure as a ministry to ourselves (!) that pleases God.

How to Live Playfully

Read your own present leisure style. If you feel guilty when you do nothing and always choose leisure activities that allow you to play hard just as you work hard, you may be bringing into your leisure life the same compulsiveness that infects your daily work (see Drivenness).

Choose free time over extra pay. Get out of the rat race of working longer and harder (or taking extra jobs) in order to consume more goods (see Simpler Lifestyle; Stewardship). By and large people today are working longer hours than people did prior to the Industrial Revolution. People have opted for the luxury items and take extra work or a part-time job to afford them. Instead of joining the conspicuous consumers, Christians should demonstrate their freedom to rest and to enjoy things in life that cost little or nothing.

Embrace both leisure and sabbath. Do not expect leisure to do for you what sabbath can. Unlike leisure, sabbath is celebrated weekly (as a day of refreshing worship and rest), daily (as a conscious entering into God’s own refreshment; Exodus 31:17) and eternally (as a way of describing salvation in Christ). Leisure and sabbath overlap—worship refreshes and transforms. Some leisure leads to contemplation, but leisure and sabbath are not coextensive. We often think we need more leisure when what we need is to enter more deeply into Christ’s sabbath rest (Matthew 11:28).

Choose edifying leisure, not debilitating “pleasures.” We would do well to rethink the Puritan advice on this matter. Many forms of entertainment, some sports, some popular and high culture, wound the soul, divert from God and feed a godless sensuality or a godless aesthetic. Put positively, we should cultivate a taste for the best in leisure (Ryken, p. 22).

Choose leisure that expresses family values and makes them a matter of family education (see Family Goals). The saying “The family that plays together stays together” may be as true as “The family that prays together stays together.” Leisure is socially bonding and becomes an important arena of self-disclosure. It allows us to put aside our need to produce and simply to enjoy one another. This is also true of friendships, marriages and church fellowships.

Discover solitary leisure activities (or inactivities) that are personally restorative. Self-denial is not the only command of Christ. The cultivation of oneself—gifts, talents, interests and capacities—is also part and parcel of Christian growth. Not everything must be useful, sensible and balanced. Neither Paul nor Jesus lived a balanced life. Occasional extravagance (Mark 14:6) and taking holy risks (Matthew 25:24-27) reflect living for and loving a God of plenty, joy, generosity and exuberance.

The Christian life is fun. It is not always fun—contrary to the argument of the “Christian” hedonists. But it is certainly not boring—not if it is life lived in harmony with the God who creates, works, rests and says, even of God’s own leisure life as he wants to say of ours, “It is good.” Part of learning to enjoy God forever is to learn to enjoy ourselves.

» See also: Drivenness

» See also: Entertainment

» See also: Hobbies and Crafts

» See also: Recreation

» See also: Rest

» See also: Sabbath

» See also: Time

» See also: Work Ethic, Protestant

» See also: Walking

References and Resources

R. Banks, The Tyranny of Time: When 24 Hours Is Not Enough (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1983); R. Baxter, The Practical Works of Richard Baxter, vol. 1 (Ligonier, Penn.: Soli Deo Gloria Publications, 1990); G. K. Chesterton, Selected Essays (London: Collins, 1966) 212-16; M. Csikszentmihalyi, Art of Seeing: An Interpretation of the Aesthetic Encounter (Malibu, Calif.: J. Paul Getty Trust, 1990); C. Cummings, The Mystery of the Ordinary (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1982); E. A. Dryer, Earth Crammed with Heaven: A Spirituality of Everyday Life (New York: Paulist, 1994); P. A. Heintzman, A Christian Perspective on the Philosophy of Leisure (Ottawa: National Library of Canada, 1985); J. H. Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture (London: Paladin, 1949); R. K. Johnston, The Christian at Play (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983); S. B. Linder, The Harried Leisure Class (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971); J. Oswald, The Leisure Crisis: A Biblical Perspective on Guilt-Free Leisure (Wheaton, Ill.: Victor Books, 1987); J. Pieper, Leisure: The Basis of Culture, trans. A. Dru (London: Collins, 1965); W. Rybczynski, Waiting for the Weekend (New York: Viking Penguin, 1991); L. Ryken, Work and Leisure in Christian Perspective (Portland, Ore.: Multnomah, 1987); R. P. Stevens, Marriage Spirituality (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1989).

—R. Paul Stevens