Tag: fun

The Religion of the Wet Towel

Ife J. Ibitayo

“I recommend having fun because there is nothing better for people in this world than to eat, drink, and enjoy life.” Where is this quote from? Good Morning America? A famous actor like Ryan Reynolds or Adam Sandler? You might be surprised to learn that this is a verse in the Bible.

Which begs the question, why is this so surprising? How was Christianity rebranded as the Religion of the Wet Towel? When did the faith that is supposed to bring “abundant life” become such a killjoy?

The Origin of the Wet Towel

It didn’t start with Jesus. In the book of Luke, Jesus described the words of His naysayers in this way: “The Son of Man feasts and drinks and you say, ‘He’s a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’” (Luke 7:34). Jesus spent so much time partying and enjoying Himself that the religious establishment thought He should have less fun, not more. Time and time again, Jesus railed against the stodgy buzzkills of His day because they deprived people of the joy God had called for them to obtain. Yet, over the course of time, Jesus’ church has come to be known for the opposite. In its pursuit of holiness, many in the church have lost happiness along the way.

The Consequences of the Wet Towel

Too often, Christianity is portrayed as a religion of “don’ts.” Don’t curse, don’t drink, don’t sleep around. No more partying, gambling, or fun for you. Then, there’s all the stuff you need to do instead like giving up 10% of your hard-earned income. Do all the right things and don’t do all the wrong things, then you will be accepted into God’s family.

I was once part of a Christian organization that embodied this rigid, rule-based system. If we weren’t serving, we were evangelizing. If we weren’t evangelizing, we were studying the Bible. If we weren’t studying the Bible, we were hanging out together—by force. And if I ever missed a church event, woe to me for having chosen the movies over Jesus. I nearly suffered a nervous breakdown trying to do everything right at all times in every way, and I definitely was not having much fun. But Christianity was never supposed to be this way.

The book of Colossians says, “’Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!’ Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility, and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence” (Colossians 2:21-23). This means the true Christian faith is not about restriction but freedom, relationship rather than regulation. Otherwise, Christianity simply becomes another ladder we climb up to prove yet again that we’re worthy.

The Alternative to the Wet Towel

Our society tries to present us with a false dichotomy: be holy and miserable or happy and sinful. But the way of Christ is both happy and holy. It involves self-sacrifice, but it also entails appreciating the bounty God has blessed us with, living at a different pace than the hamster wheel of our culture, and enjoying time with our friends and family. If we’re not experiencing both, that isn’t Christianity.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. [Jesus] came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

John 10:10

I’m Not a New Yorker

By Ife J. Ibitayo

I just returned from a trip to New York City—the home of Miles Morales, the Cookie Monster, and some other, less important people. New York is a complicated city. I’d listen to the siren song of an undiscovered musician as I descended into a subway station. Then I’d choke on the rancid stench of piss as I ascended out of it. Someone once said that those who visit New York will either see “all that glimmers or all its garbage,” and I definitely experienced both ends of the bargain.

But I was most bewildered by the people. New Yorkers are a race in and of themselves. They are brash, confident, hip, and strange. From the men sporting sunglasses on the already cloudy days or the women wearing spaghetti straps and minis in the middle of the rain, I knew I stuck out with my millennial skinny jeans and pullover sweater.

Am I Hustling Enough?

I quickly learned that to be in New York is to be in a hurry. New Yorkers will push past you, scream at you, and literally climb over you to get to their destination on time. Some have defined the New York Second—the time between a light turning green and the taxi behind you honking—as “the shortest time in the multiverse.” And I became well acquainted with this phenomenon as blaring horns harassed me as I lay awake in my hotel room.

 But my lying awake didn’t start here in New York. Ever since this year began, my schedule has taken a dramatic turn. Social outings, hangouts, and Sabbaths all took a backseat to studying, working, and hustling. Some of it seemed necessary at the time. A perfect storm of schoolwork and life circumstances coincided to squeeze the space out of my schedule. But it was only revealing a much deeper issue lurking in my heart.

I remember one late Thursday afternoon when I foolishly scrolled through my email right before taking a much-needed nap. When I discovered yet another rejected application, I lay restlessly in my bed for a few minutes before having to get back up. I didn’t want to return to the grind; I needed to. Because in the absence of external validation to confirm the value of my hard work, I needed the hard work itself to substitute in. I needed the bleary-eyed late nights and the bone-weary exhaustion and the harried, frenetic pace of my every day to distract my worried heart.

Am I Enough?

Too stressed out to sleep and too distracted to work, I went outside for a walk. On that strangely wet and cloudy Los Angeles day, I wondered to myself: Why am I doing all this? Do I hustle because I fear falling behind? Or do I fear not measuring up? Am I enough? And fighting my way through the crowded streets of New York City a few months later, these questions resurfaced all over again.

Conclusion

But there was one beautiful respite that redeemed my Big Apple breakdown. Standing on the top floor of a skyscraper, staring out on the harbor, I enjoyed a rare moment of stillness. A ferry carved a lazy arc through the water as the sun just began to peak out of the clouds. As its warm glow dispelled the gloom from that afternoon’s heavy rain, I knew in my heart that I’m not built to be a New Yorker.

I cannot hustle my way to happiness. I have to religiously carve out time for God, friends, and for myself. And even if the building I’m constructing grows at a slower pace than others’ high-rises, at least I’ll be laying down a sturdy foundation that just might survive the ups and downs—the earthquakes—I know I’ll experience out here in Los Angeles.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.”
(Matthew 7:24-25)