Many of the best pleasures in life are impossible to articulate. Why do we enjoy swimming in a river on a hot day, reading a good poem, or just doing nothing with friends and an acoustic guitar? Of course we can give reductionist answers that list reasons—it's fun, it's stimulating, we like company—but these don't really explain the inherent goodness of these kinds of experiences.
Mankind was created to enjoy good things. As humans and as followers of Jesus, Christians are privileged to find pleasure in the world around them. In many ways, Christians are more equipped than anyone to genuinely experience true beauty and goodness. When God created the world, He looked around and said that it was “good,” not only because He'd made it, but also simply because He said so. If God calls something good, we have no business contradicting Him.
At Exodus we enjoy good things. Among our favorite things are good books, good music, and good fellowship. Literature not only affects us on an aesthetic level, it reveals to us the thoughts and attitudes of other people and helps us experience the world from their perspective. Music is arguably the most “spiritual” art form, since its influence over us is completely non-verbal and even “primal” (touching our innermost being). Fellowship is essential to vibrant Christian community, and one way to enjoy fellowship is to play games (unless you're playing with Eli, who will cut your throat without compunction).
Sometimes (more often than you might think) we find things that we don't really enjoy, but that we can learn to appreciate. We enjoy things that are obviously good, that reflect truth and are generally positive. But there are lots of things that don't fit those categories that are nonetheless worthy of our attention, even that are beautiful.
Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, for instance, is a novel of bad morals, nihilism, and ultimate despair. But it is beautifully written, and presents an honest, internally consistent picture of many peoples' lives and attitudes. While it would probably be easier just to ignore the book and not have to deal with it, to read it and appreciate it without accepting its message of existential futility will bring us to a far better understanding of the world around us.
Which of course begs the question, How much do we actually need to know about the world? Paul tells us to be in the world but not of it, and an easy assumption is that the less we have to do with anything not specifically Christian, the better. The old answer that you need to know what others think in order to reach them is helpful, but incomplete. More importantly, the only way we can truly appreciate and be thankful for blessings and goodness is to have some knowledge of darkness and suffering with which to contrast them.
Thankfulness is at the heart of enjoying and appreciating art (or anything else). For us to appreciate a good book and at the same time be glorifying God (even if the book itself presents an unchristian worldview), we need to be thankful for it. We also need to avoid apologizing for it—Christians don't need to be sorry to anyone for enjoying literature, music, art, etc. The only thing we need to apologize for is failing to thank God for the good things He has given us and for failing to use the discernment He has given us when engaging the culture. We hope our selection is both helpful and thoroughly enjoyable.