At Play in the Fields of the Lord

Just last night, I saw a roadside billboard advertising a local bank. It said: “Have a little fun(d) today!” Well, okay, the bankers want you to invest with them. But the slogan set me thinking: how do I build a little fun into my busy life? And should Christians even be thinking about fun and enjoyment with all the serious, even desperate, needs crying out to be met in today’s world?

Because life often is so grim, a sanctified sense of balance suggests that as human beings we need some comic relief, or at least some re-creation as part of our lives in God. We have a capacity for enjoyment and entertainment for a reason—to keep us from being drowned in despair or overwhelmed by the heavy burdens we bear.

I am about to drive 2,500 miles from my home—a 5,000-mile round-trip—to fulfill an obligation, and I must admit I look forward to this trip with great anticipation. Driving through wild and wonderful landscapes brings me a sense of the expansiveness of Creation, its drama and diversity, mountains and valleys, sunrises and sunsets, forests and prairies and deserts. As I drive, my journal and my camera wait on the seat beside me to catch the gleams of light and shadow through the leaves, the subtle colors of the rivers and prairies, and the ideas that begin to flow when my mind is free from the distractions of ordinary living. Nature photography enlarges my spirit and engages my imagination. My journal relives the scene for me after the journey is over and teaches me what I value.

Part of this little adventure will be finding a tent site each night, unrolling my sleeping bag, and loving the solitude and night silence of wilderness in my small, moveable nylon home. This definitely counts as fun. I could fly, but think of what I’d miss! Journeying reminds me of the Bible verse that tells us “We have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” And on that continuous life passage, our God provides us with multiple experiences, both momentous and merry, to bring us to an understanding of His goodness and grace.

Grace. By definition something we don’t deserve. In my mind, planning, developing, cultivating, and enjoying a garden is my human activity that most reflects God’s creative nature, his grace in color, form, almost infinite variety. God’s own garden is the wilderness. When I grow a garden, one of my most joyful diversions, and something not strictly necessary for survival, I am echoing divine action.

I’ve just written a book called The Crime of Living Cautiously, and I tell some stories about pursuits that might be considered frivolous, though I did them for pure fun. Sky-diving, bungee-jumping, sailing—part of the thrill of such activities is the tingle of fear that goes along with them. Adventure implies risk or it wouldn’t be much fun. I love what Mark Twain once said: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the things you did. So throw off the bow lines. Explore. Dream. Discover.” And that conquering of fear, of exploring new territory, will bring a thrill of enjoyment that little else can.