The law of Christianity is not an iron-clad asceticism. Holiness signifies wholeness, wholth, or health; and health breeds innocent mirth. Recreation is not only innocent, it is absolutely indispensable. Martin Luther relieved his stern battles with the Pope by cheerful songs, and by decorating Christmas trees for his children. Gladstone, the king of living statesmen, recreates with his axe; Spurgeon, the king of living preachers, recreates with his games; the saintly McCheyne with his gymnastic poles and bars. These were men, not angels.
No man lives who must not work, and who may not play. But what is recreation? We reply: It is everything which re-creates what is lost in life's daily frictions or fatigues. Whatever makes the body healthier, the mind clearer, and the power more vigorous, is Christian recreation. To deny ourselves this is hazardous; to restrain others from it is an infringement on Christian liberty. We lay down this principle, that whatever pleasure or play tends to improve the body, mind, and spirit, is right; but whatever play or pleasure inflames the evil passions of our nature, is a sinful amusement. The one is right; the other is wrong. The one, like pure water, refreshes and strengthens; the other, like alcoholic beverages, excites a morbid appetite, inflames the passions, and poisons the soul. Recreation is the Creator's pure water; sinful amusement is Satan's brandied beverage.
The theater, in these days, asks for suffrages and support of church members. But its advocates always present to us, in argument, an ideal play-house, whose actors are virtuous people, whose dramas conform to Christian morality and which rigidly excludes every kind of sensual temptation. Such a Puritanic theater would be entitled, at least, to respectful treatment from the church. But every person of common sense that knows the actual average American theater is no more like this ideal play-house, than the average Pope is like St. Peter, or the average politician is like Abraham Lincoln. A Puritanic theater would become bankrupt in a twelve-month.—Rev. T. L. Cuyler, in the Evangelist.