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The Lost Language of Play: Misunderstood Spirituality

How many times have you heard and/or been the frustrated adult saying "Teenagers these days are completely self-absorbed. All they care about is having a good time"?

These are often the same adults who think youth ministry should be reduced to scripture memorization and Bible drills. I love the Bible. And while I believe that teens should be challenged to work their butts off to know Christ through Scripture, I have a hard time dismissing their need for fun. I wonder how many Bible studies I've designed work against how God makes teens—the faces of many junior highers fighting everything inside themselves to sit still flood my mind.

Challenging the Assumptions

What if all adolescent people are spiritually deep and complex? That might not be a fresh insight for you, but it has been for me. Last year when a seventh-grade girl accused me of ageism after I tried to explain how older youth are more mature, I began to rethink my stuff. I was just rattling off the widely accepted developmental framework that many psychologists and theologians accept. At different ages, we go though different types of development.

Ronald Goldman and James Fowler have applied psychological research and developmental theories, such as those of Piaget and Kohlberg, in crafting frameworks for understanding faith development among children, teens, and adults. Author Jerome Berryman writes, "Two of Goldman's books, written in the early 1960s, dominated about two decades of religious education, and much of his influence remains alive today. He claimed that children do not experience existential issues and that children do not have religious experiences."

A more recent giant on the faith developmental landscape is James Fowler, widely known for his work, Stages of Faith. Among contributions he builds on from Piaget and Kohlberg are what he calls philosophical psychologies. "More developed structural stages of knowing are, in important ways, more comprehensive and adequate than the less developed ones; the more developed stages make possible a knowing that, in some senses, is more true than that of less developed stages."

This way of viewing youth tends to play out in an attitude toward teens as pre-adult. "Piaget's starting point, and the starting point of many researchers, assumes that adult thinking is the norm, so the thinking of childhood is viewed as undeveloped adult thinking." Often the attitude toward teens in a faith community is that young people aren't as spiritually deep as adults. This conclusion is assumed because teens don't work out or articulate their spiritual lives in the same way adult observers do.

Taking Kids Seriously

At our church-council meeting this month, I shared about a martial arts class we hoped to start this next week. Issues of liability arose, which led adults to talk around another new ministry/hobby of mine—skateboarding. A few of our local teenage talents have taken me under their wings and started giving me free lessons. This exposed many adults' contempt for skateboarding itself. "Kids like it because there are no rules and no authority," one adult commented. The conversation went downhill from there. In these situations, I feel part of my ministry is to articulate experiences of teens in ways that adults value, i.e., they're also drawn to skateboarding because they can individually express their creativity while having community with others.

I liken the way in which teen culture is written off to an analogy Leonard Sweet shared at a conference last year. "We don't go over to a foreign country and say, 'Why do you dress in those funny clothes? Why do you eat such strange food? What's up with your weird music? Oh, and I'd like to tell you about how much God loves you.'" Yet we do that every day with our children.

Of course we need to look at all culture critically, but I'm challenging the assumption that the experiences and culture of teens are invalid based on adult experiences, which are often uncritically accepted as normative. The wounds and soul searching of young people aren't recognized or valued in the same way those of adults are. Kids give up on trying to make themselves known to grown-ups who don't get them. Many assume from this that it's just not happening in teens—"They don't care." Yet for many adults, their earliest awareness of God's pleasure was in their play as children. We must learn to value it as holding such potential. For many teens, play is a step toward putting some skin on God.

Indirect Encounters with God

Like many youth pastors at times, I've used games as the carrot to sneak in the spiritual stuff later on. But what if the profound stuff is actually happening in play? What if, in play, teens are working out the same existential limits people everywhere experience from birth to death: need for meaning, death, threat of freedom, and being alone? Much of my awareness and enthusiasm for play comes from reading Jerome Berryman's book, Godly Play. Play offers kids an indirect way of sounding out these spiritual depths.

Indirectness is important in creating an atmosphere in which teens can experience Christ. It allows for mediation between adults and teens, and it gives teens room to access what they need where they are. Parents consistently share with me conversations their kids initiate when they're cooking or working on a project together. They ease into it when they feel there's room for them, when adult attention is divided.

Healing the Wounds

Many youth have been wounded by adults, yet their wounds are so common and deep that we don't readily take their word on it. They reciprocate our distrust when it comes to what we care about and have to say. They want to touch, taste, smell, hear, and feel God. In play, we can engage places in students that remain hidden in traditional didactic teaching. Along with the opportunity and invitation that teens feel to risk emotionally, their uniqueness is valued. Play allows us to enter in where we are and do the work we need to do.

Two months ago, I invited a high school junior, Ted, to the martial arts class I take. After a few weeks of going, he was hooked. One night, the instructor was saying good-bye and gave him a hug. For the first time in the three years I've known Ted, he didn't say "Ouch!" when touched. In fact, he reciprocated. For a young man who's been abused, this was no small moment. On the way home he acknowledged what had happened. "I think I'm starting to come out of my shell."

I responded, "Yes! I mean…really? How so?"

Ted answered, "Well our instructor hugged me tonight and I let him." It took three weeks of play to break through Ted's fortress of self-protection—something I wasn't able to do in three years sitting across from him with the Bible.

Ted gravitated toward the martial arts because it allowed him to access his damage from others' sin in a way he felt comfortable. Each night of martial arts involved dozens of touches in a controlled and safe environment. Our instructor has seen where Ted is hurting and continues drawing him out a little more each week. While a Christ-centered martial arts system isn't for everyone, I've come across some ways of being with kids that engage them to play with the parables of Jesus.

Godly Play with Teens

Godly Play is a curriculum. But more than that, it's a way of being with children that honors who they are. Berryman describes it in these words, "Godly play is a way to know God. The problem is that, paradoxically, if we play at Godly play to know God rather than for its own pleasure, we will not become aware of God as a player." Berryman articulates the necessity that play remain play and not a means to something else. This creates space for children to enter in and get caught up in the creative process. It's a way for us to create and, in that, experience the Creator in whose image we're made.

My first experience with Godly Play was with a group of 12 kids, ranging from 6th graders to college students. Kelly, my door person, was marvelous. She watched the students outside the door and, one at a time, invited in those who seemed ready. They entered ready but unsure. I was there. I took time that day to prepare myself and was early so I could anchor the circle with my presence. I had the advantage of having history with each of the kids. I was able to greet each by name and with genuine welcome. Also, I was able to guide each one to sit in a place around the circle where they wouldn't distract one another.

I intentionally laid out a three-dimensional parable from a gold wooden box. Each person was intrigued by the story as it unfolded. Some of the students who offered initial insights during the wondering were some who don't usually feel they're very knowledgeable about God or God talk in general. I was readily affirming and left it open to go on. This was a great confidence boost for one particular teen. I felt pleased by her growing confidence as she continued to offer contributions. Two kids came in late. One, a seventh grader, started to talk and mess with the parable materials. He was put in check by the other students in the circle almost immediately.

Next, the parable of the Good Shepherd began. I ended up reading the parable, which didn't seem to distract as I thought it might. I forgot to not make eye contact, and when I did during a few of the more vulnerable places, I saw the youth back up and be inhibited to enter further. Overall, they were entirely attentive and moved by the experience. They remained reflective during the closing wondering sequence. They seemed to be still engaged with the story and themselves. There was only one distraction out in the hall. Instinctively, one of the adult helpers met that person and told them what was going on. They sensed that what was happening was sacred.

I put the story away. Then we went around and each student had a choice between paints, pencils, or markers. Kelly was splendid about helping them find their work. She intuitively knew what needed to happen. Each went to work in silence—this had never occurred during our times together. Usually there are a few who are afraid to be alone and always fill their solitude with sounds, but not tonight. I went from person to person observing their work. Some shared with me what they were going for. One person sat awaiting inspiration. When it came, he drew an intricate tree.

After a while, it was time to wrap up. No one was ready. I turned off the light and explained that it was time to come back to the circle. I assured them I'd keep their work if they wanted and give them the opportunity to return to it next week. The following week we did a work time and share time at the end. They voluntarily shared their work and what it meant to them. Each person was respectful of the others' work. Only one person had to be reminded.

Before saying good-bye I asked each to come to me in turn before they left. I shared with each person some insight I'd gathered about them from that night. One youth was visiting for the first time. He had a safety pin stuck through his lip. He promised to be back the next week. I expressed my gratitude toward two college helpers who participated fully in the session, one of whom I stood up and hugged.

This experience of Godly Play was one of my most meaningful ministry encounters with God's children. We continue to do Godly Play monthly in our youth group with profound results. The choice of response through art of various media continues to be valuable as it allows each person to engage the story where they are. Other forms of play, such as drama, work as well. You can learn more about Godly Play at www.godlyplay.net.

Become Like Children

Let me invite you to wonder with me at these words of Jesus to ministers: "He called a child, who he put among them, and said, 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me…'" (Matt. 18:2-5).

What if Jesus was serious? What if children are examples of true faith? What if working with young people is also an invitation to belong to them and learn from them? What if welcoming and caring for teens is actually hosting the living Christ? If we hope to build incarnationally based relationships with teens, perhaps we adults would do well to relearn the lost language of youth—the language of play.

Jason Minnix is the youth pastor at First Baptist Church in Beaverton.