During this fifty-day season of Easter, our readings in church teach us about the resurrected Christ. They call him the unblemished lamb; the rejected cornerstone; the way, the truth, and the life; and other odd metaphors. We hear that Jesus is the lamb and the shepherd and the gate for the sheep! These metaphors are nothing if not playful.

Most of us probably don’t use the phrase “playful prayer.” But if we did, maybe we would pray more often.

When do you pray? Every morning or evening? On Sunday mornings? Or do you put it off until your situation feels desperate? I can’t say my prayer practices are all that consistent; many people find it easier to remember to pray than I do. But I have learned that if I approach God playfully, I at least make more consistent contact with the one who is playful enough to say, “I think I’ll make a universe.”

The car is one of my primary places to pray; the trick is remembering to turn off the music and be silent for a moment. It doesn’t have to be a somber silence, either. Our middle school youth group recently identified 24 distinct types of silence … maybe “playful” is the 25^th. You know: the kind of silence in which you’re sorting the Legos and just starting to imagine what you might do with them.

Then I say, “Well, God, here I am.” And I smile and let that sit for a bit. Next, faces pop into my head: faces of St. Thomas parishioners; faces of friends and family; faces of people who have died. I think about my most recent experience of them, and then I imagine them at their best. I note the difference between the two, and I say, “Hey, God, how are they going to get there?” Or if I have no idea what God plans to do with them, I just say, “OK, God, they’re yours.” It’s light and casual and, when I’m at my most playful, it’s doesn’t get anxious or heavy-hearted.

To be sure, there are other kinds of prayer. Our middle schoolers have also learned about the five main kinds of prayer: “wow,” “help,” “oops,” “gimme,” and “thanks.” Sometimes, tears are the best prayer for a given situation. But lately, with my life feeling busy but good, and the taste of new possibilities on the spring air, I’ve found playful prayer to be just what I need.

We’ve had occasions of playful prayer recently at St. Thomas, even during Lent. On March 2, the choir launched into an unexpected rendition of “This Little Light of Mine,” and we clapped our hands. During Holy Week, we shared a meal in the Great Hall and playfully washed each other’s feet, even as we felt the solemnity of Good Friday coming on. At the Easter Vigil, we heard the story of Wisdom playing at the side of her Creator. We were splashed with water to remind us of our baptism. And at the Proclamation of Easter, we rang bells, shouted, stomped, and screamed our delight and shock as we experienced, once again, the Resurrection of Christ.

There’s more playful prayer to be had. Can you come out and pray this Sunday?