Have you ever seen a gospel lesson mirrored in everyday life? I had one of those moments hit on New Year’s.
I grew up in a family that loved to play games when we gathered. At the end of the day, the game itself didn’t really matter. We could drum up competitive spirit for just about anything.
Card games? You bet. Easter egg hunts blindfolded? Of course. Monopoly? So destructive, we haven’t touched it in fifteen years. We played them all, and we took them all seriously.
Fast forward to my last New Year’s party. I invited a mix of family members and friends, and I was excited to see how the personalities gelled. We started the night with a game I’d never played. To spare you the rules, I’ll just say it was chaos. The game was loud, fast, and brutally competitive.
One friend started laughing and said, “Wow, this is a lot different than when I play with my family.” In the moment, it felt like a badge of honor. He’d seen the light!
Then, for a change of pace, a friend suggested a game he’d brought. It was a “cooperative” game. Have you heard of these?
As he explained the goal of the game, several of us were confused. I thought, “If I took this to a family Christmas, I think there’d be a fight.”
“Then, for a change of pace, a friend suggested a game he’d brought. It was a ‘cooperative’ game.”
We were each dealt an objective card that we had to accomplish during the game. The one I drew said the only way I could achieve my objective was to lose every hand. That’s right. I had to lose on purpose… over and over. When you just took no prisoners while playing mob solitaire, that’s quite a blow to the ego.
Someone asked, “You’re telling me, we only win… if we all win?”
I threw out a cheap joke: “I think we’re all already winners.”
But we heard him out and played. It took three tries, but we finally won—all of us. And it did feel good, even if the podium was a little crowded.
A few days later, the game popped back to mind. I realized how much cooperative games are a reflection of the body of Christ. At least, as God intended it to function.
As we played, instead of talking trash, we asked questions. “What do you need? How can I help?” We shared information. “Here’s what I have. If you do that, I can’t do this.” Nothing was hidden, everything was on the table.
“I realized how much cooperative games are a reflection of the body of Christ. At least, as God intended it to function.”
Competitive, winner-take-all games—fun as they are—only reflect the world. All for me, none for anyone else—that’s what Adam Smith called the “vile maxim,” not the gospel. When you’re just playing a game, there’s no harm done. (Other than the potential for hurt feelings.) But think of the ways that mentality could fracture the church if believers carry it with them when they stand up from the card table.
Church isn’t a gathering of “haves” and “have nots.” God gave all of us everything we have. We didn’t earn our salvation, and we didn’t deserve it. Jesus hung on the cross to save us anyway. Our talents, resources, and giftings aren’t solely for our benefit. They’re opportunities to extend God’s love to people who haven’t experienced it yet.
How much do you lean on your brothers and sisters in the church? How much do they lean on you? When you’re in need, do you share it? Do you notice opportunities to help others and ask, “Can I meet that need?”
“When you’re in need, do you share it? Do you notice opportunities to help others and ask, ‘Can I meet that need?'”
When people walk into your church, are they shocked by your unity and cooperative spirit, or do they see a little more of the world?
