The Joy of Being Alive: An Antidote to Boredom and the Spiritual Sickness of Apathy
The Joy of Being Alive: An Antidote to Boredom and the Spiritual Sickness of Apathy
Just outside of Kuşadası, Turkey, our group was given the treat of visiting a factory and showroom where the ancient art of carpet making was practiced. As we were dazzled by the colors and patterns of these rugs, I could not help but marvel at the attention to detail, the patient work of craftsmanship, and the connection to time immemorial. I also thought about the nature of time and our relationship to it.
In an age where distraction is constant and busyness feels relentless, boredom has become almost an inescapable undercurrent. Yet, the theologian Thomas Oden once described boredom as more than just a passing sensation; he viewed it as a spiritual sickness. To Oden, this malaise goes beyond the irritation of having “nothing to do.” It may be described as an irritation that there is something to do, that being alive is a responsibility and a calling to respond to the universe around us. Boredom is a disconnect from the wonder of existence itself, a soul-level numbness that clouds the joy of simply being alive. The joy of life is not meant to be hidden under a veil of disinterest or jadedness but rather embraced with a deep and abiding enthusiasm.
If I were not a Christian, I would consider myself and the human race extraordinarily lucky to exist, when it was almost inevitable that we should not exist. To experience the very gift of existence is a gift of worth beyond measurement. To taste, feel, think, wonder, agonize, and even suffer, all tingle and pulse through the wiring of our bodies and nervous system. The fact that in us, the universe has become alive and self-aware, if even for a nanosecond, should inspire awe. Imagine that you are on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure because you are. Indeed, most of you have had the experience of going to a large theme park and standing in line for hours for a ride that will last for only seconds. Why put yourself through it? There is no other way to have this experience. It is worth the wait. Well, if the universe is billions of years old, then the universe has been waiting a long time for you to take your turn. I would express it this way to someone who did not believe in the divine.
But as a Christian, I find myself profoundly thankful. Life is God’s gift to us; what we do with it is our gift to him. Christian ethics should be based on the foundation of gratitude. Every cup of tea, sunset, the scent of a flower, and hearing a laughing child is an undeserved moment that comes to us as a gift, like finding a precious photo from a long-departed loved one. The memory fragment causes the heart to resound for joy over a moment that might not have been and could have been missed.
G.K. Chesterton provides a lens through which we might glimpse a God untouched by boredom, even in the face of repetition. Chesterton saw the “redundancy” of nature—such as each sunrise, each flower bloom, each season—as evidence of God’s youthful exuberance. He suggests that while we tire of the world’s repetitive beauty, God says “again” with boundless delight, like a child reveling in the same game. This perspective of God’s joy, which Chesterton believed is untainted by the weariness that sin brings to human experience, reminds us that joy need not fade simply because life follows patterns. He concludes, thus, that our creator is younger than us because we have grown old through sin.
I once did a video around one of my favorite quotes by James Michener, who said:
“The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he’s always doing both.”
― James A. Michener
A critic of the video said, “That is easy for him to say. He was a writer. Try doing manual labor or working in a factory and see if you can have that attitude.” My response to this remark is to think of my grandfather, who spent his whole life working on machines for the railroad, yet who was enamored with life and always found joy in his work, even when it was back-breaking work, such as the many roofs he put on buildings, or the more than sixty wheelchair ramps he built for others, or the monotonous work or re-wiring signal boxes in the heat or cold. Much of the joy in life is found in the beholder, not in what is viewed.
Or take the sheer wonder of all the marvels our world contains, more than could be cataloged by a planet of supercomputers. In the insect world alone, species go extinct each day that we have not even named or studied. Of course, that should sadden us and increase our awareness of preserving biodiversity. Still, it should also leave us profoundly thoughtful about how much of life passes under our noses without us even being aware.
Christ’s response to the Sadducees about the resurrection provides another profound insight. He taught that even the dead are alive to God, underscoring the eternality of life through God’s perception. In other words, all existence is undergirded by God’s loving gaze. To be alive, then, is not merely to breathe and move but to be in a perpetual relationship with a divine joy that transcends time. In all its complexity and simplicity, life is cherished by God and thus inherently sacred and brimming with potential for pleasure. Being alive means being in the gaze of God. Even as mortal beings who are here today and gone tomorrow, like a wave tossed in the ocean, a vapor in the wind, we are caught up in the eternal life of God (Matthew 22).
Nothing can be gone forever if it is held in the mind of God. Of course, I do not mean that we are eternal in the same way God is. We are frail creatures of dust that exist alone for God’s delight. Yet, Ecclesiastes says that God has hidden eternity in the heart of man.
Paul’s favorite image for eternal life and salvation was to be in Christ. Jesus is the frame in which life is best understood. It fills it with meaning and adds extra dimensions to it. Ephesians 1 says God has chosen and given us a new identity “in Christ.”
Have you ever spent time pondering great works of art in a museum? A frame makes the picture. It doesn’t simply limit the picture; it frames a world. The specific dimensions make a great piece of art a world unto itself, with a sense of infinity captured within the finite bounds of a frame.
Together, these perspectives urge us to embrace the fullness of life with a passion that counters the apathy of boredom. Rather than seeing routine mundane, we can see each moment as a fresh invitation to witness the world’s beauty. This stance, however, is not mere romanticism. Instead, it is a profound acknowledgment that life itself is inherently good. To see each day, each interaction and each moment as meaningful is to step into the divine enthusiasm that God Himself holds for His creation.
Our spiritual senses are sharpened when we cultivate an awareness of God’s joy. Like Chesterton’s God, who says “again” to the sun and the moon with youthful delight, we, too, can begin to see patterns of beauty in the seemingly mundane. The laughter of a friend, the quiet thrill of a walk in nature, or even the simplest acts of kindness become opportunities to tap into that divine joy. This awareness combats boredom and roots us in a larger sense of purpose and gratitude.
To be enamored with life is to reclaim our childlike wonder, which recognizes that each breath and heartbeat is nothing short of a miracle. In a world numbed by distraction, the joy of simply being alive offers a way back to ourselves and the heart of God. And, in so doing, we begin to see life not as an obligation or a burden, but as a gift—one that brims with divine vitality, waiting for us to say “again,” one more time, to the marvel of it all.