Video Games

Recently, I've been reflecting a lot on the course of my life so far, i.e. the things I've done and the reasons for them. It's an interesting process, as well as a good checkup to see if you're growing or not, and I highly recommend it. Anyway, one of the the things I've come to see is that I have really spent an inordinate amount of my life so far playing video games. Anything from Minesweeper to Super Smash Brothers, you name it and I've probably been hooked on it. I suppose I could call myself a recovering addict.

It all got me thinking though: why do these games have such a powerful pull on some of us? What draws us so far into them that it's hard to see the way out? In my pondering these questions, I've come up with three reasons I think that people often run to video games, all of which lead me to the same conclusion.

First of all, I think one of the main draws of video games is just plain and simple distraction. Games are fun (and often mindless), whereas real life is often difficult and sometimes not that enjoyable. If real life sucks, then the draw of a fantasy world is even more powerful. It becomes an escape, a fictional place you can enter and lose track of time and worries. As a side note, this could be why time seems to pass much differently (read: faster) while playing video games, as anyone who has played them even a little could tell you. It's almost like they really do create a different reality.

Second, video games are powerful, both emotionally and chemically. You might have thought I was speaking a little strongly when I called myself a recovering addict, but the reality of this situation is pretty disturbing. You've probably heard of people who are addicted to gambling, people who lose all their money but can't seem to stop gambling it away even as it destroys their lives. Well, video game addiction is like the socially acceptable stepsister of that. Studies have shown that successfully completing objectives in video games releases the same chemicals in the same areas of the brain that are present in gambling addicts. It really is possible to become chemically dependent on these games! I'm not saying that I am/was or anything, but I know the adrenaline rush of accomplishing some ridiculously hard objective in a game. For those unfamiliar with the feeling, I'll just say that it gives a very real sense of satisfaction and fulfillment, but one that is totally unwarranted. The reason it's unwarranted, obviously, is that the accomplishment took place in an imaginary world and has no lasting impact on anything, but the feeling can still fool you into a false sense of importance. It's easy to see how you could easily have your whole life wrapped up in this fulfillment.

Finally and most important, I think people play video games because they want control. I saw an advertisement the other day for something on a video game website that showed some fictional beasts battling at the direction of a cloaked figure in the background. At the end of the flash animation, the slogan for this particular product popped up: "Here, I rule." It hit me right away that this ad was only unique in that it was stating explicitly what other ads usually leave to the imagination. And honestly, what better way to market a game to adolescents could there be? This generation of young people finds itself completely powerless against the forces tearing it apart: divorce, abuse, neglect... and the list goes on. Then along comes a product that promises that whatever may be going on in other aspects of your life, here in this one little zone you can have complete control, can be a champion, can dominate those who try to limit you. It's almost irresistible.

I'd be letting a lot of people unfairly off the hook, though, if I said that this phenomenon only applies to hurting teens or adolescent dreamers. The truth is, a lot of adults are hooked on video games too, because all of us have this twisted desire for control. For us, it's just a different set of problems that we're trying to dodge: finances, responsibilities we don't want, and even the emotional brokenness due to the problems on the young person list above, among others. These problems can be avoided in many different ways, of course, but video games are just a blatant example of how we try to take control. I mean, what are those things we use to play video games called? You guessed it: controllers.

Now, the big problem with control is, in essence, that it kills us. We were never designed to have it, and when we do have it we invariably use it to mess up our lives in ways more creative and painful than we can ever foresee. I know I've done this all too often, but I don't know if I ever realized it was because I was trying to fulfill a role that I don't have the capacity to carry out. Paul puts it this way: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body" (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Simply stated, we don't belong to ourselves. We were made to be vessels of God's glory, nothing more. So when we try to take control (i.e. give ourselves the glory), it doesn't work. It always backfires, and what's worse, it dirties up God's temple.

The good news is that there's an easy way to solve this problem, at least as it applies to video games: turn them off. It's funny, but if I'm going to be honest, I've been afraid for years that God was going to make me stop playing video games and "take all my fun away." But as I start to see what they've been doing to me all this time (distracting me from real life, addicting me, and making me more controlling, thereby stealing God's glory), I see that I won't really be missing out on anything if I never play another one. They just don't compare to the glory of God and the love he has for me. More on that topic is soon to come, but for now I'd encourage everyone to ask God what controllers of your life need to be placed in his hands. Granted, it's a bit of a risky prayer, but I think those are God's favorites. After all, what is a risk but a way that we step out of our own control? Just on the other side of those risks, he has freedom for us that we can't even imagine...

Qualifications

Recently, the process of trying to find a job has gotten me thinking about what qualifications I actually have as I've attempted to list them in my resumé. I've realized that there are some real, concrete things about me that qualify me to do certain jobs and not others. When it comes to doing God's work, though, I often feel so unqualified. I can't really understand why it is that God would want to have me even attempt to serve him, given my great propensity for messing things up. Too often, the person doing ministry one minute is off ignoring God's voice in some sinful pattern the next and then thinking "surely if the people in charge/people that I minister to knew how I really am, they wouldn't let me serve them... surely there's someone more qualified." If I can't even hold my own life together, how am I supposed to make an impact on my city? my church? my family?

I guess you could call that kind of feeling desperation.

Here's what I mean: in order for my life to avoid crumbling into chaos, despair and failure, I am constantly in need of God's miraculous intervention. He has to hold it together, not me, because I can't. That may sound like kind of a downer, but the funny thing about it, I'm coming to see, is that this is exactly how God wants us to feel. I think he's constantly leading us to a place of desperation for him, whether we like it or not. And just so you know I'm not making this up, check out the book of 2 Corinthians: the whole thing is about this! Paul is trying to give us this doctrine of desperation throughout this whole letter. Some highlights:

1:8-9--"We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead."

I find it very comforting that the greatest missionary in history despaired of life at some points along the way. Even he needed to learn not to rely on himself. Now, I'm not saying that the hardships of my life are comparable to Paul's, but this is still so cool: God uses our hardships to free us from the burden we put on ourselves of having to make everything work out all the time. That's his job, and he can handle it. He does, after all, raise the dead.

3:4-6--"Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant."

Simply put, God qualifies us to do his work. Not anything about us or our quantifiable job skills or gifts. God is not about resumés. The only reason we get to do his ministry is because he says so. This also frees us from having to worry what people think about it. God said it, so we do it, whether we feel qualified for it or not. Another point about that: we have no business questioning God's call on us. We might not understand why he has chosen us, but it's really none of our business. We don't earn it. I can't say that enough times.

4:7--"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."

A crucial point: being desperate for God relieves us of any glory that might come as we follow him. What we do is only a result of his power, and we are just broken, dirty vessels. It's a good thing we don't have to carry the glory, because we can't handle it. It goes straight to our heads and we forget our place all too easily. Our overwhelming imperfections, though, make it obvious that God is the only one who accomplishes anything. As Isaiah said, "all that we have accomplished you have done for us" (Isaiah 26:12).

12:9--"But he [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"

These words of God to Paul really sum up the whole thing: God uses our brokenness to highlight his power. Therefore, we actually get stronger by making ourselves weaker and relying on God's power. As Paul is forced to conclude, "when I am weak, then I am strong." (12:10).

The challenge, then, is learning to rest in the knowledge that we aren't perfect and never will be in this life. We can choose to be depressed about this, or we can choose to minimize ourselves and rely on God to give us good and perfect gifts and to be strong through us. This strength is the kind we need to change a broken city, not whatever pitiful power we can muster up on our own. He qualifies us to do it, and who can argue with God? I don't know why he would choose me out of the many options, I just know he did. I'll finish with a poem I wrote about that and about learning to rest at God's feet despite everything else, being weak but relying on his strength. So enjoy, and also check out the "poem of the day" from the Library of Congress newly added over on the right--I told you more poetry was coming! I also know it's risky putting my poems in such close proximity to those of the masters: please don't compare the two, just enjoy each one for what it's worth. Here's mine:



One Among Many


Under a tolling fog,
in the speckled mist,
answer the question soaking you
gently as you are unaware
who is calling—

Dampening wind
reaching around umbrellas, under hoods
slanted in momentary hesitation
pointing in one direction,
soon forsaking stillness—

Listen through the footsteps,
over the engines; wait
alone in the reverberation
of small voices fading
for the one who asks—

Hear what you can,
see only what you cannot,
and there on the hill
inside the fog
rest.