"It's Just a Game"

We love games.  With games, my children have learned to take turns (Candyland), to do addition (Yahtzee), to spell (Quiddler), to understand numerical values (Racko), to increase vocabulary (Scrabble), to carefully remember (Maask), to keep a stiff upper lip in defeat (Othello), to win graciously (Sorry), to keep hope because fortunes can change quickly (Chutes and Ladders), to think ahead (Chess), to think way ahead (Life), to describe (Catch Phrase), to see patterns (SET), to communicate in pictures (Pictionary) and actions (Charades), to understand a bit of capitalism (Monopoly) and authoritarianism (Mao), and to deduce (Guess Who).  

This week I played a game of Quirkle with my 9 year old daughter.  We kept the tally of points and at the end of the game she added them after I left to take a phone call.  The next morning I saw the tally paper on the floor and thought, "I wonder who won?"  And my next thought was, "It really doesn't matter who won."  It matters that we were together, enjoyed each other, developed and maintained character, grew and connected.

And then the thought that was more like an awakening came:

"Yes, it's just a game...in your life too." 

And that was about more than Quirkle...

Do you recall as a child having that sinking feeling when you started to lose?  That feeling that made you want to quit or cry or pout or cheat? Do you ever get that same foreboding, sinking feeling as an adult when your lot isn't adding up as you had hoped?  

And do you recall that victorious feeling you had as a child when you realized that no one could catch up with you in a game? Perhaps that same feeling of victory over others buoys you now, but you sense its tenuousness. 

Those feelings come from playing "the game."

But behind "the game" is a deeper reality that we too often miss when our eyes and hearts are focused on the game.  The veil that blinds us to the deeper place gets removed when, for example, a diagnosis of cancer comes:  suddenly bank accounts, fashions, homes, trophies, and ranks matter little.  Suddenly relationships are supreme. Character matters. Thoughts of God become highly practical.  And reportedly, living "in the moment," and experiencing gratitude and joy becomes possible in a way that is elusive to most of us.   

I want to live in the reality that is beyond the game, before cancer strikes.  If I get that sinking feeling, let me recall, "It's just a game."  It is not what is most real.  I want to habitually see beyond the game, to the relationships, the character, the light of God Who Is.  

And a word about our children.  What percentage of their lives is being lived in the game?  While games can teach valuable skills, living a whole life immersed in intense competition does not effectively develop good character, does not train children to see and know what is Real, and does not give children a secure sense of self.  That bedrock is laid in the settled assurance that they are unconditionally and sacrificially loved by someone (Someone) who is good, who is with them and delights in them, and who is committed to their growth and long-term well being, not just their winning.  

In fact, I think this is the beauty of children playing games with their parents.  Children instinctively know that with Mom and Dad it really isn't about the winning and losing; it's about time and joy and relationship.  It is a safe place.  The game is obviously "just for fun," because "Mom couldn't possibly love me less if I lose."  

Dear God, let me see the game for what it is.  Sometimes pleasurable, a training ground, a necessary pursuit, but not the deepest reality.  Keep the veil rent so I can see beyond the game to what is Real.