Baseball: 1HN Normalizer

For much of my elementary schools years and the first of my junior high school years, I often felt like an outsider, different from most kids. I don't think it was my affinity for Dungeons & Dragons or for video games that set me apart, or my taste in music (Def Leppard!), or my love of school and learning. Deeper than those things, I didn't talk or act like "normal" kids, whatever "normal" means. Maybe it was my vocabulary or maybe it was my eccentric interests after all... I couldn't put my finger on it. I'm sure some of you can relate, but there was always that notion that would emerge from deep within my psyche whenever I was around people: "Why don't I fit in?"

Interestingly, this seemed to change sometime in eighth grade: I started collecting baseball cards. At first, it was something to do with my cousin Mark, who was a collector himself; we would go to Price Club (now Costco) and buy a box of Topps cards... 1987 Topps cards, to be exact. I remember opening the packs with a petrified stick of pink that left an oily residue on the unfortunate piece of cardboard that happened to be placed next to it. I often ignored the gum. I would then organize the cards by teams and look at the Team Leaders card -- the one that listed the home run, RBI, and batting average leaders of each team on it. Then, I would trade for those players with my cousin. At the time, I didn't really think I was swindling him, but I was. Around that time, my interest in baseball cards caught the interest of my friend Ed, who was himself becoming a collector. We used to trade with each other, go to baseball card conventions, and laugh about the Walt Terrell rookie card that we almost acquired (I don't know why, but it was funny at the time to want to labor so hard to buy the rookie card of an OK player).

Inevitably, collecting baseball cards led to an interest in watching baseball, which led to a more profound interest in playing baseball. Throughout my eighth-grade year, I played baseball almost every day in the street in front of my house with two kids much younger than I was, a tennis ball, and a street reflector serving as home plate. We used to practice switch-hitting; to this day, I still marvel at the fact that I was able to hit the ball over a distant lightpole left-handed. Sure, it was against an 11-year-old pitcher, but it was still awesome to a 14-year-old.

Honing my skills on the mean streets of my hometown compelled me to try my hand at organizing baseball; Little League, that is, or at least "little" for 15-year-olds. I played one season of baseball with the A's and played first base, second base, third base, and all three outfield positions during that season. I was a decent hitter (I hit over .300, I think), I could steal bases (which was a surprise because before ninth grade I was officially slow), and I had a cannon for an arm, but I was also hot-headed and hated to make mistakes. Nobody was harder on me than me, and that was my greatest obstacle in baseball: I had a hard time overcoming my own mistakes. Sadly, though that baseball season wasn't a bad one and my team placed second in its league, the luster of the game was lost on me because I was not happy with myself. I'll come back to this point later.

After that baseball season, I turned my back on baseball. In high school, I ran cross country and swam on the swim team. In college, my favorite sport was basketball, mostly because I was good at fighting for rebounds and I could always make up for a mistake on one end of the floor with a key play at the other end of the floor. I did play intramural softball, though, and I even felt the buzz of baseball enough to play a few practice sessions a couple of co-workers at a local park. Besides lofting pitches over the Little League fence of that field at which we played, I still remember making a nice diving catch of a line drive over second base, which earned the applause of my buddies. I know it was just practice, but it felt good to know that I could pull out a spectacular play once in a while. After college, I rarely, if ever, played softball or baseball. Basketball, and then running, became my favorite sports and I enjoyed playing them.

However, recently, I've been watching (for the third time) Ken Burns' superlative documentary series, Baseball, which was originally released in 1994. As I watch that series, I am not only reminded of how much I liked baseball and how fascinating the figures of yore are, but I also remember the greatest impact baseball had on me: it normalized me in so many ways. First, I have come to realize that that some skill in a sport can earn the respect of other boys and men much more than intellectual or social talent can do. As a socially-awkward seventh-grader, I had few friends, and the friends that I did have were just as fringe as I was. Yet, as I made it to ninth-grade, I began to earn the respect of other boys because I could play baseball. In fact, one of my Little League teammates once vouch for my skills in front of some popular boys; of course, those popular guys didn't heed his endorsements, but I could certainly hit as far as, if not farther than, they could hit. Secondly, I had something "normal" to discuss with other boys; it was definitely more accepted to talk about Kirk Gibson's dramatic home run in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series than it was to talk about Armor Class or saving throws (D&D references here). However, beyond the physical skill and the ability to discuss a "normal" subject, baseball not only gave me access to guys who were not so academically-inclined, but it made me more accessible. To this day, I can talk baseball with some of my running friends and I actually have something to discuss; without baseball (or sports knowledge, in general), many guys (Americans, at least) are inaccessible. By this, I contend that the most noteworthy power of sports is that it allows us to reach others, hopefully with the hope of Christ and as an encourager.

There is one more aspect of myself that baseball normalized: the epiphany that mistakes are a part of the game and of life. As a ninth-grader on a Little League team, my love of baseball was diminished because of my inability to recover emotionally from my own mistakes. For much of my life, I had trouble overcoming the fact that I had deficiencies and that I would lose games. That was why I often avoided playing board games, video games, or even sports against people; I didn't like losing. Sadly, it took years of experience to comprehend that I cannot be afraid to lose or make mistakes, and that I learn best from mistakes. I try to instill this in my sons, hoping that they would not be paralyzed by the fear of failure. Every sport presents experiences of failure, particularly baseball because if you make a defensive error early in a baseball game, that error may be the reason your team loses despite your best efforts.

Yet, instead of backing away from failure, I tell my boys to rise to any challenge, and that it is okay to fail or lose because you can learn from it and be better in the future. To most of us, this is sententious and trite because we hear it in so many ways from so many inconsequential people, but one thing I rarely heard as a child was that failure was okay only if I learned a lesson from it and strove to not replicate the error. In this sense, baseball normalized me because it made me confront failure, embrace its lessons, and be diligent about moving past it instead of dwelling on it or, even worse, giving up altogether. I pray that my sons will step forward willingly to meet every challenge, every ground ball, every line drive, and catch that ball or make that play. Win or lose, we can grow from the moment and revel in the idea that we never backed down. To me, that is "normal."

Settlers of Canaan: 1HN Catan Redux

Among Christians, there seems to be a trend towards taking "secular" games and adding a Judeo-Christian flavor to it. The obvious examples of this are such games as Bible Scattergories and Bible Taboo (which is funnily ironic name), but some lesser-known ones are Ark of the Covenant, which was based on Carcassonne, and Redemption, which was the Christian community's response to Magic: The Gathering (it was not a copy of its gameplay, but it copied the collectability of Magic). Yet another prime example is Settlers of Canaan, which is the spitting image of Settlers of Catan.

Settlers of Canaan is, by and large, the same game as Catan. Much like Catan, the Settlers of Canaan board is laid out in hexagons with each one producing one of five resources: grain, sheep, wood, clay, and ore; and, each hex has a number from 2 to 12. You start off with placing a settlement and a road at the vertices of three hexagons. After each player has laid out two settlements and two roads (the two settlements may or may not connect to each other), they gather up one card for each resource their settlements touch. Then, gameplay begins. For those who are familiar with Catan, Canaan is very similar: a player rolls two dice, and then all players, including the rolling player, collect resource cards for each hex that their settlements touch that matches the number rolled. After that, the current player gets to trade resources with other players and build settlements, cities, and roads, or acquire development cards depending on which resources he or she possess. Canaan's Development cards are also similar to Catan's development cards, except that there are "Priest" cards instead of "Knight" cards and there are thematic cards that are similar in effect to Catan cards, but named differently. As in Catan, Canaan has bonuses for the longest road (two points) and most priests (two points). There are also developments that award victory points, just as in Catan. 

It would be too easy to state that Catan and Canaan are essentially the same game, but there are four key differences. The first difference is that the hexes in Canaan are fixed in position on a gameboard, whereas the hexes and numbers are randomly placed at the start of each game in Catan. This gives Catan a fresh feel every game, while Canaan's board is set (yet sufficiently balanced in its placement of resources, in my opinion). The second difference is that the Canaan has Jerusalem and its wall at the lower part of the board; players can add a stone to the wall of Jerusalem by spending the appropriate resources during their turns. Whoever has a majority of stones in Jerusalem's wall gets a two-point bonus and a favorable trade ratio of two of any resource chosen for the "King's Blessing" in exchange for one of any other resource. The third key difference is the Robber: in Catan, if you roll a 7, you control the Robber, a nefariously black token that can be placed on a hex, rendering that hex ineffective until the Robber is moved. In addition, the player who places the Robber can then take a card from a player whose settlement is touching the occupied hex. Thus, it is called the "Robber." However, in Canaan, the Robber is called "the Plague." It works the same way as in Catan, except that a dark stone is placed in Jerusalem's wall. Lastly, there is a copper hex that provides one resource of a player's choice if a 10 is rolled and a player has a settlement touching that hex; this is somewhat minor, yet noteworthy because there is no "wild" tile in Settlers of Catan and this may affect early-game settlement placement.

Gameplay continues in Canaan until a player gains twelve victory points, which is two more than Catan, thus extending the game a bit. Points are tracked on the gameboard on a separate counter, so the need for math during the game is reduced (unlike Catan, in which there is no scoreboard and you have to constantly count people's settlements and cities). As with Catan, the accumulation of settlements and cities is important, but the most fun part of both games is negotiation. Can I get the ore and grain I need to transform my one-point settlement into a two-point city? Will someone trade me that clay I need to build that settlement? Will I get that clay and stone I need to allow me to lay that precious stone in Jerusalem so that I can take the King's Blessing from someone? All of these questions are more often solved in trading than with mere dice rolls; this is the beauty of Catan and Canaan.

The Settlers of Canaan, much like Catan, is a wonderful family game that also serves as a gateway game to more complex Euro-style games, which are often economy-based with indirect competition. In Canaan, you don't trounce your opponents as much as lock them out of certain hexes with key settlement placements. In this way, I can see how Cactus Game Design saw that they could tweak the classic Catan with a Judeo-Christian theme and it would be palatable for Christian families. I certainly understand that sentiment and am appreciative of it, but I admit that, of all games, Catan was one game that didn't need a makeover. By itself, it's a fine family game that is non-violent and only as cutthroat as the players who play it. I have played Catan and Canaan and found that Catan would be just as agreeable as Canaan, if not better because Catan has a bevy of expansions from which you can enhance the game. One thing I should mention is that I suppose that the concept of "stealing" wasn't Christian enough, so the "Robber" was changed to a "Plague, but is "Plague" really better than a "Robber?" I mean, I know that it's wrong and sinful to steal, but it's a legitimate game action to take someone's card with the Robber/Plague; if it's a legit move, is it really "robbing?" In my opinion, it is this kind of kneejerk reaction to secondary elements in games that often drives the Christian-theme market (and sells games to overly "religious" people).

This takes me to a point I made in a previous post about magic: I don't have a hard and fast rule against all references to magic in games. If magic is an integral part of a game, I make a determination about whether it would affect me and my sons or not. However, if it's an ancillary part of the game, such as it is in the Zelda video games or in such board games as Dominion, I may allow it depending on the imagery and the rules. I look at Catan in the same way when it comes to "robbing"; I know it's not stealing in the sinful sense, and I know that it's defined in the rules. Why can't we just call it "robbing" instead of a "Plague," which just sounds even more awful, in my opinion?

Castlevania: 1HN Self-Sufficient Devil Hunter

Right after I got my NES, one of the first games I received as a gift was Castlevania. I don't remember why I got that game: did I ask for it? Did Mom think it would be a game that I'd like? Did another family member give it to me? I'm not sure, but I do remember that it was one of the first games I had.

What more can be said about Castlevania? For those who are not familiar, Castlevania is a side-scrolling platformer that was one of Konami's flagship titles. In the game, you play Simon Belmont, a whip-wielding nobleman who enter's Dracula's castle with no other mission but to destroy Dracula and break his curse. Along the way, you encounter every cliched horror monster conceived: bats, mummies, zombies, creatures from the Blue Lagoon, dead knights, Frankenstein, and Igor... Or, at least, a bunch of leaping hunchbacks. All the while, you whip candles and walls to get upgrades to your whip (which ultimately becomes a rather elastic ball-and-chain morning-star-like weapon), special weapons like holy water, cross-shaped boomerangs, axes, and daggers, as well as hearts for ammunition, pork chops for health, and treasures for extra points.

As with many NES games, each level of Castlevania is capped with an end boss, whom you must fight to proceed to the next level. After traversing the first level of the castle, you encounter a giant bat who swoops down at you repeatedly. It is defeated somewhat easily, but then an entire castle awaits with more levels and bosses. At the end of the game, you are challenged by Dracula, but he's not the last boss; after you behead Dracula, an immense leaping rock monster attacks you, knocking you around as your life meter decreases to a dangerously low point...

...and, then, you die. At least, that's what always happened to me because I was never able to beat Castlevania -- not as a teenager and not in recent history.

Castlevania is a game about which I used to be quite conflicted. On the one hand, all of the horror film and literature conventions are in the game: ghouls, monsters, Dracula, torches, skeletons (both animated and as piles of bones), holy water, crosses that clear away the undead, and the like. My Christian radar often blipped at every demonic image on the screen I  encountered when I played recently. I thought about what kind of influence this game would have on my boys: would they develop an interest in horror films? Would they pursue knowledge of the occult? Would they pretend to be Simon Belmont or Dracula?! All of the stereotypically Christian concerns crossed my mind as I considered the implications of a horror-themed video game. On the other hand, you are Simon Belmont, who was sent to vanquish evil, armed with holy water and crosses. These are Catholic elements to be sure, but one cannot deny even a slight Christian influence on the protagonists of some horror movies and themes. After all, who is a more frightening adversary than Satan and his minions? In that sense, Castlevania is spiritual warfare played out on-screen: it's good versus evil presented in a blatant and obvious way. In addition, Castlevania is an excellent platformer with fine graphics, a memorable soundtrack, and gameplay that challenges you and gives you some freedom of movement. Except for some cheesy villains, Castlevania plays rather smoothly for an NES game and has replayability, even after you defeat Dracula and his winged beast.

Despite how well-crafted the game is, I sold Castlevania and Castlevania II as a bundle on eBay, along with their original retail boxes and instructions for the first Castlevania. Once again, a personal conviction led me to rid myself of something I didn't think would be a positive influence on my boys. As a teenager, I didn't live a life pursuing Christ, so I did what I wanted to do. At the time, Castlevania seemed harmless to me, but I looked at the game with renewed eyes and determined that it was games like Castlevania that did affect me as a younger person. If anything, like magic, I may have looked at horror themes and demons as entertaining and fun. Even though demons and supernatural monsters were villains, there was always an implied coolness to them; today, with the proliferation of zombie and vampire TV shows, that seems to be Hollywood's opinion. However, I see things differently: in most, if not all horror-influenced TV shows and movies, God rarely plays the role of vanquisher; instead, it is often through human ingenuity and perseverance that supernatural evil is defeated. In this way, what I find as a negative influence in horror-themed entertainment is not the imagery or storylines as much as the insidious idea that we don't need God to vanquish evil; we'll just do it fine on our own, thank you very much. "We don't need Jesus; we just need each other." It's a perspective that infects the mind, convincing us that we are better than we think we are.

Thus, is playing or owning Castlevania a sin? I don't think so, but it's one of those things that plants a seed of doubt in one's mind. For an adult, it may not be so dangerous, but to plant such a seed in the mind of a child could be spiritually damaging. Not everyone else is the same when it comes to the effects of horror themes in entertainment, but when it comes to my boys, since I'm accountable to God for them I shouldn't risk exposing them to the idea that we can conquer Satan and his demons just fine on our own.

Magic in Games and Media: One Christian's Perspective

Nowadays, more than any other time in history, the concept of magic and magical powers has reached a kind of acceptance among the populace at large. With the popularity of Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter, we see magic playing some kind of role in the plots of those stories and movies. We see magic in table-top gaming in games like Dungeons & Dragons, the much villified role-playing game brand in which players can choose to play a fighter, a thief, a spell-casting cleric, or a magic-user. How about board games? Moreover, board games like Terra Mystica, Dominion, and Tzol'kin feature some form of magic either as a side element or as a central aspect of gameplay. And, of course, you have Magic: The Gathering, which is the granddaddy of collectible card games; it's over twenty years old now, but its pro tournament circuit is stronger than ever and new expansions and sets are released every year. The idea of magic is now a part of the fabric of various pastimes and entertainment.

Now, if you are not a Christian, then the following discussion may not apply to you, but please feel free to read just to get what I feel is a different perspective from some Christian folks out there. However, if you are a Christian, let me share a few verses with you for your consideration:

...Do not practice divination or seek omens. (Leviticus 19:26b, NIV)

Let no one be found among you who sacrifices their son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. (Deuteronomy 18:10-11, NIV) 

But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars — they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death. (Revelation 21:8, NIV)

As a Christian, you may have heard these verses or something like these verses ever since Sunday School days. Often, these verses were proffered as warning against practicing magical arts, summoning demons, or pursuing any dark art that touches Satan. Considering the intent of these verses in their contexts in the Bible, these verses reflected the wisdom of God as He knows better than anyone of the seductive nature of ill-gotten power. However, starting (I'd say) in the mid-1970s when Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) was released, verses like the ones above were often used to disparage medieval-themed role-playing games (RPGs) and the presence of spells and magic-users. Some conscientious parents would warn their children of the dangers of indulging in such role play and their warnings were justified with such awful occurrences as the deaths of some RPG players in the steam tunnels of the University of Michigan or the suicides of young people whose game characters had died during a (fictional, mind you) campaign. More and more, games like D&D were targeted by Christians.

Yet, D&D didn't go away. In fact, its second edition came out in 1989 and, by then, it had become a beacon of hope for introverted, academically-minded, socially-challenged students everywhere who wanted to escape the reality of school bullying and being disliked for their intellectual prowess. More fantasy-themed RPGs emerged, and then came Magic: The Gathering, which revolutionized card gaming by presenting a customizable game experience: you could build a deck with your own strategy, tactics, and cards and then pit that deck against someone else's deck. When it first came out, acceptance was slow, but then it exploded by its third edition and a secondary market of individual cards flourished as a tournament circuit was established. Other companies attempted to cash in on the collectible card game craze as new games popped up every year. Those games would surge for a short time, and then disappear under the tidal wave of Magic fandom.

As D&D marched on and Magic set its footprint, fantasy computer games became more and more complex and immersive. In the 80s, it was consoles games like The Legend of Zelda and Sword of Vermillion, and PC games like Ultima, Bard's Quest, and the D&D computer games that captivated RPG players when they couldn't get a campaign going. In the late 90s as home computers became faster with improved graphics and sound, even more complex and eye-popping games like Baldur's Gate and (ironically) Diablo were developed, and Ultima went online. Then, Warcraft became World of Warcraft and fantasy-themed gaming not only dominated RPGs and card games, but had a strong influence in online gaming and native-PC (i.e. installed on one's own computer only) gaming. Moreover, fantasy themes and magic are prominent in numerous Euro games, such as the aforementioned Terra Mystica, as well as Mage Knight, Descent, and other popular board games.

Eventually, fantasy fans in their teenage years grew up to be successful businessmen and, interestingly, movie producers and writers. It would be no surprise that the same kids who hid in the metal shop room in high school and rolled characters grew up to be movie makers who loved fantasy-based themes. Of course, with the fantasy themes comes magic, which is an integral part of the all of the previously mentioned games and media. Thus, (and for other reasons, I'm sure) magic seems to not only be present in numerous forms of entertainment, but it's accepted by people. In a strange way, the popular opinion on magic seems to be that there is "good" magic and there is "bad" magic, much like there's the "light" side of the Force and the "dark" side.

So, what's a Christian to do? Before I became a Christian, I was very much interested in D&D and Magic and Ultima. I loved fantasy-based adventures and enjoyed collecting the books and cards that featured swordplay, questing, and magic. When I became a Christian, I stowed away all of that paraphernalia (which wasn't hard to do because I was in Japan and my stuff was at my parents' house) and forgot about fantasy themes and magic. Yet, when I returned home, I unearthed those items, felt the waves of positive nostalgia associated with Magic card game duels, late-night role-playing sessions, and hours of battling monsters in Baldur's Gate and found myself drawn into those worlds again. I had even started rebuilding Magic decks...

Is magic in games and movies really that bad? One may answer "no" because these are depictions of magic use and not actual magic use. Just as one acts out Claudius in Hamlet and can finish the play without becoming a murderer, one can play a game that features magic and emerge with zero interest in pursuing it. Likewise, the mere act of, say, playing Magic is not sinful behavior; I have yet to meet or read about a single person who has sought a wicca lifestyle or pursued spellcasting as a result of playing that game. Also, even though some Chick evangelist tracts would suggest that RPGs lead to Satan worship, I have yet to read about or meet a person who became a Satan worshipper as a direct result of playing D&D.

Despite this, I have sought to minimize magic themes in my life and games. It started with the Magic cards. Put aside some of the questionably-clad females on the cards and some of the demon imagery and, sure, you have a game of wonderfully deep strategy and creativity, but you also have to address  an underlying concept: magic is okay. I couldn't reconcile the beauty of the game with how, even indirectly, the game seemed to condone magic. I ended up selling some of the cards and discarding (pun intended) the rest. Next, I dealt with my RPG books. I thought, "Wouldn't it be great to suit up armor again in a virtual sense and go on an imaginary adventure?" Yet, I was confronted with that same question: would I want my boys to play RPGs? I began to remember how I would lose myself in a fantasy world, make characters for hours, and dream about a world that was not real. Indeed, it was (and is) fun to escape reality for a while, and the mere act of playing RPGs didn't bother me, but the idea that "magic was okay" didn't sit well with me, so I sold those books and used the money to buy family-oriented European board games like Puerto Rico and Agricola.

The push to minimize magic in my life and the games I played was borne from a "personal conviction," which, among Christians, means that though there is no direct scriptural reference against playing RPGs or card games, I felt compelled by God to turn my back on magic. Because this is on the level of a "personal conviction," I have to say that I believe it is not a sin to play Magic or D&D or Ultima or World of Warcraft. In a similar vein, it is not against God, per se, to watch a sword-and-sorcery epic. Yet, this conviction has led me to the question, "Would I want my boys to play these games?" What kind of effect could magic in these games affect my boys? The answer to that is what I called "the planted seed."

What does that mean? We all understand the concept of magic: through force of will or the summoning of supernatural powers, a wizard or other form of magic-user casts a spell to turn an outcome in his or her favor. It is the accessing of something apart from God to influence a self-driven outcome. Outside of magic, people seek to do this all the time, whether it be by paying someone to do some work, by striking a deal with a neighbor, or by talking someone into ignoring something wrong someone else did. Magic is a spectacular, supernatural way of making things happen, which works in opposition to God's will because God's will is almost always different from my, your, or anybody's will. However, magic, unlike other forms of influence, is an attractive concept to the powerless and power-hungry, and the acceptance of magic plants a seed in one's mind: it's okay to seek power by whatever means necessary. In other words, by accepting the idea of magic, we accept the idea of our supremacy over nature and over God's will.

Is that a bit too extreme of a view? Consider this: you may have a child who likes Harry Potter. More than the demons and supernatural creatures present in the world of Hogwarts and Harry Potter, there is the idea that magic enhances one's life, makes one stronger, and can be used to defend others. In some ways, Harry Potter is a noble young character, yet he is not submitting to the will of God or even living by a strict moral code that involves sacrificing his desires all the time; instead, my impression of Harry Potter is that the end often justifies the means, that magic is a necessary tool in generating favorable outcomes, and that there is nothing but one's own will that determines whether evil succeeds or fails. For a non-Christian, this is a fine idea: I can overcome obstacles to achieve my ends. However, for a child who is young in his Christian faith, magic represents something that is antithetical to submitting to God's authority and not submitting to the will of supernatural power that isn't from God.

Let me state it another way. Most Christians focus on magic being "bad" because it involves conjuring demons or seeking power from evil spirits. This is a well-taken point if one is consistent with it insofar as any depiction is treated this way, even in works by Christian (or Catholic) authors like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis; these authors employ magic as plot devices, as do other authors. Yet, I contend that the more crucial issue to consider is how magic empowers the individual apart from God, as if one has mastery over the elements and doesn't need a Creator to help in any way. It is an idea that is truly un-Biblical. Since even a shadow of the idea of magic is present in games, I am wary not of my children becoming Satan worshippers, joining a wicca quorum, or even dancing around in pagan garb, but of the insidious notion that they don't need God. For a Christian, that's reducing faith to a lifestyle choice unworthy to share with others because it becomes more about societal rules and rosy philosophy and less about the majesty of God and how we are His creation. At that point, we wouldn't need God because we are in control of our own destinies and we don't want to follow a God that restricts us; this is the tenet of every atheist, in my opinion. It is about self-empowerment. Moreover, magic can be seen as an inflation of a fantasy world to negate the spiritual reality of a living God who asks us to live in this world and, more importantly, affect change for the better.

With all of that said, when it comes to the occasional movie, I don't really have a problem with the fictional portrayal of magic. I also don't have an issue with a Christian playing Magic or D&D as long as that person understands that we submit to God and are not driven by our own ambition, but I feel convicted about playing such games because it sets up an example for my sons and could plant a seed in their minds that could grow into full-blown doubting of God. Of course, when it comes to the intentional practice of magic or witch arts, the Bible is clear in its admonition and warnings, but what about Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Narnia, which were written by Christians? Why are those books acceptable? The Bible verses I provided earlier would suggest that these works may be counter to God's word, but the simple answer is that magic and the fantasy milieu of those books are allegorical representations of the antagonism of Satan against God's creation. The lines of good and evil are clear in those books. Just as Christ often used verbal illustrations to convey points even to thieving tax collectors and financial managers, Tolkien and Lewis use allegory and metaphor to convey the spiritual battle between Christ and Satan.

To conclude, I believe that there is no straightforward answer to addressing magic in games unless one pursues the extreme one: to abolish all games that have magic. I don't necessarily believe that such abolishment is demanded by the Bible and in the verses I shared because one is not truly casting spells or divining spirits. Every gamer would tell you that: if anything, magic in games can be like laser guns in a science-fiction-themed game or economics in a European-style board game. The fantasy depiction of magic in games is not THE concern; it is the seed of doubt planted by the depiction and play of magic in games that is the most dangerous part.

For me, I sometimes question why God would ask me to give up such a well-designed game as Magic or to surrender my D&D books to Him, but I remind myself that when I play these games I open myself up to the seed of doubt in God's will as my mind, on a subconscious level, accepts that notion that I can alter reality to meet my ends, not God's ends. Some would disagree and that's fine, but I also remind myself that God has given me two boys to raise and shepherd into manhood. When I die, I will be accountable for what I've done in this life and how I raised them. I am not perfect, which is why I am thankful that Christ died for me and intercedes for me, but I must do my part to not obfuscate God's love and message for my boys. That is why I have turned my back on magic in games and limit the literature they and I read to magic as a plot device or as allegory. It is not a hard and fast rule that excludes every fictional depiction of magic, but I am guided by a personal conviction to ensure that I can do as much as I can to keep that seed of doubt from taking hold in my boys and in me. Therefore, I implore you, the Christian reader, to consider how magic or anything can plant that seed of doubt in your or your family's minds before you fret over the mere depiction of magic in movies or magic as a game element.

As an aside, I happened upon an intriguing verse in the book of Acts, which alludes to a group of sorcerers who eschewed their dark arts to follow Christ. This verse struck me because, just as these ex-sorcerers gave up much to follow Christ, I should give up what I feel impedes my following Christ:

A number who had practiced sorcery brought their scrolls together and burned them publicly. When they calculated the value of the scrolls, the total came to fifty thousand drachmas. (Acts 19:18-20, NIV)

Even 2,000 years ago, people understood what I had to learn the hard way. Maybe I should read my Bible more.