Notes from the Wayside: Introspection: The Playground

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The Playground

God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day - our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life - fear of death, fear of judgment - is one not yet fully formed in love.

1 John 4:17-18 (The Message)

This is my Father's world
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas
His hand the wonders wrought

From "This Is My Father's World" by Maltbie Babcock

On a typical workday, I take my lunch to the office and eat at my desk, but, on Fridays, when I only work until one o'clock in the afternoon, I eat lunch after I leave the office. Because I was feeling rather tired this past Friday, my plan was to go home after work, to eat some instant noodles, and to take a nap, before going with my mother to our scheduled visit with my grandmother at the nursing home later in the afternoon.

I had been feeling rather depressed over the last few days, so I decided to change my plans and do something that might lift my spirit. I placed an order at a nearby restaurant before I left the office, picked up my order after work, and then drove to the park downtown to eat my lunch at a picnic shelter. It is only recently that I started eating lunch at the park. In years past, I would have just eaten at the restaurant. I suppose the pandemic forced me to exercise the part of my brain responsible for thinking outside the proverbial box.

From where I was sitting at the picnic shelter, I had a view of a playground, so, while I ate my lunch, I had the opportunity to watch people watching their children and grandchildren playing. This is a sight that has taken on a new meaning for me in the last few months.

Every two months, I attend a half-day retreat with The Anchorage, a contemplative prayer ministry in my area.¹ These short retreats are known as Desert Days, because participants leave behind the noise and busyness of their everyday lives for a few hours to meet with God in the desert, so to speak. These Desert Days consist of teaching, group discussion, and time alone with God. Normally we would meet at the director's house, but for the last year, we have met online, over video chat. For me, Desert Days have been an opportunity to reflect on the last two months, to quiet myself, and to listen for what God might be saying to me. I usually walk away with some new insight.

During the Desert Day two months ago, one of the people present mentioned that she had recently become more familiar with one of the three persons of the Trinity. She recommended that, if we find ourselves unfamiliar with a person of the Trinity, we pray that the person may become more known to us.

I suspect that of the three persons of the Trinity - the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit - most Christians would say that they are the least familiar with the Holy Spirit, since the Father and the Son seem to be featured more prominently in the Bible. Though I would agree with people that the work of the Spirit in our lives is mysterious, I would not say that the Spirit is unfamiliar to me. The fact that one is mysterious does not necessarily make one unfamiliar. I believe in spiritual gifts, meaning that I believe that the Holy Spirit empowers us to do the work we are called to do. I believe that it is through gifts of the Spirit that I do the things I do in the church.

I would also say that the Son is familiar to me. The four Gospels are probably my favorite parts of the Bible, and stories about Jesus have a way of capturing my imagination. I believe that Jesus provides all of us the definitive example of what it means to be truly human.

The person of the Trinity that is least familiar to me is the Father. Because of a combination of my strained relationship with my earthly father and the kind things I heard about God at the fundamentalist school I attended, my image of God the Father had become that of an angry, harsh, critical disciplinarian. I haven't really wanted to spend much time dwelling on such an image, so I have kept the Father at a distance, emotionally speaking.

A drawback of thinking of God as a father is that one's personal "father wounds" or "daddy issues" tend to become bad theology. Thinking of God as a mother instead could present similar challenges. When we think of the divine in human terms, our image of God tends to become distorted, as we project human faults and failings onto God.

Of course, being exposed to rhetoric like the following wouldn't help one's image of God either:
The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.²

During the Desert Day two months ago, I went outside for my time alone with God. There is a church across the street from my home, and, at the church, there is a playground. From the front porch, I could hear that, at the playground, a father was playing with his child. That afternoon, my image of God the Father started to change.

What if the world is merely a playground a Father built for His children?

What if life is simply the Father's taking the children to the playground and watching them play?

During Desert Days with The Anchorage, participants are told, "Behold God beholding you in love." For years, I have wrestled with how to imagine the God who is beholding me in love. Now I imagine that God is watching me live my life as loving parent would watch a child play. If God is indeed like a parent who is watching his children play at a playground, then I suspect that watching us play makes God the happiest when we are are enjoying our time at the playground and when we, God's children, are playing well together. I also suspect that God is grieved when we are not playing well together.

My image of God the Father is no longer that of a giant seated on a throne, ready do dispense judgment on humanity or that of a hand dangling a helpless spider over a fire. My image is that of a smiling Father sitting on a bench and lovingly watching His children play. May we all enjoy our time at this playground; may we all play well with our brothers and sisters; and may we know that God is watching over us with love.

Notes: