There comes a point in every summer when an adult must make a decision.
The decision usually arrives unexpectedly.
One is standing in a backyard.
Children are present.
Perhaps grandchildren.
Perhaps nieces and nephews.
Perhaps simply the children of neighbours who seem to possess an endless supply of energy and absolutely no fear of consequences.
And then someone appears carrying water balloons.
At that moment, a choice must be made.
One may remain a dignified adult.
Or one may become a target.
Now, I should confess that I have always admired people who can maintain their dignity under such circumstances.
I am not one of those people.
If a water balloon appears, I am immediately transported back several decades.
All good judgment departs.
And before long, I find myself participating in activities that would almost certainly alarm my physician.
Grace abounds.
Now, July is a season that seems particularly designed for play.
The days are long.
The evenings linger.
Families gather.
Children run through sprinklers.
People sit around campfires telling stories that improve considerably with every retelling.
And for a few precious weeks, life becomes a little less serious.
Which is a gift.
Because many of us spend the rest of the year being responsible.
We pay bills.
Keep schedules.
Attend meetings.
Worry about things.
Some of us have become so proficient at being adults that we scarcely remember how to play.
And that is a pity.
Because play is not merely recreation.
It is restoration.
Now, I realize that “play” looks different when one has accumulated a few decades of life experience.
Few of us are climbing jungle gyms anymore.
At least not intentionally.
Most of us have reached an age where getting down onto the floor is less concerning than the question of whether we will successfully get back up again.
Yet the need for joy remains.
The need for laughter remains.
The need to delight in life remains.
And perhaps that is because these things are woven into us by God.
After all, creation itself seems filled with joy.
The Scriptures tell us that God looked upon creation and called it good.
Not merely useful.
Not merely efficient.
Good.
Beautiful.
Delightful.
One suspects that a God who created sunsets, puppies, loons, and baby goats may possess a fairly healthy appreciation for joy.
Now, somewhere along the way, many Christians became suspicious of fun.
One occasionally encounters the lingering notion that holiness should involve looking mildly uncomfortable at all times.
As though smiling too broadly might somehow undermine one’s spiritual credibility.
I have never found much evidence for that in the Gospels.
Jesus attended weddings.
Shared meals.
Gathered with friends.
His first miracle involved ensuring that a celebration could continue.
That hardly sounds like someone opposed to joy.
In fact, much of the Kingdom of God sounds remarkably festive.
Feasts.
Banquets.
Celebrations.
Reunions.
There is an awful lot of rejoicing going on.
And perhaps that is because joy itself is holy.
Now, I am not suggesting that every water balloon fight is a sacramental act.
Although I am not entirely ruling it out.
What I am suggesting is that laughter matters.
Play matters.
Time with family matters.
The ability to set aside our worries for a while and simply enjoy one another is one of God’s great gifts.
Because relationships are strengthened in such moments.
Memories are formed.
Stories are created that will be retold for years.
And somewhere in the midst of all that laughter, grace quietly goes about its work.
I think that may be one of the reasons summer feels so restorative.
It gives us permission to remember parts of ourselves that the rest of the year often buries beneath responsibility.
Wonder.
Playfulness.
Delight.
Simple enjoyment of the people we love.
Now, none of this means that life’s challenges disappear.
The bills will still be waiting on Monday.
The lawn will continue growing with missionary zeal.
The laundry basket will somehow refill itself.
But for a little while, we are invited to set those things aside.
To laugh.
To play.
To enjoy the gift of one another.
And perhaps that too is part of faithful living.
So if this July presents an opportunity to sit around a campfire, throw a water balloon, play a board game, paddle a canoe, chase grandchildren through the yard, or simply laugh until your sides hurt…
Take it.
Not because life is free of responsibility.
But because joy is one of God’s gifts.
And gifts are meant to be received.
Even by those of us who have become more than a little long in the tooth.
Alleluia.
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Companion Prayer
Joyful God,
Thank you for laughter,
for family,
for friendship,
and for the gift of play.
Help us to receive joy without guilt,
to delight in the people we love,
and to treasure the memories we create together.
In these long summer days,
restore our hearts through wonder, laughter, and rest.
And remind us that your grace is present not only in solemn moments,
but also in smiles, campfires, games, and shared joy.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.