"Christ and the Rich Young Ruler" by Heinrich Hofmann

Let’s talk about some self-imposed pressure, brought on in part by a burst of zealotry.

And behold, a man came up to him, saying, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” And he said to him, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you would enter life, keep the commandments.” He said to him, “Which ones?” And Jesus said, “You shall not murder, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother, and, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The young man said to him, “All these I have kept. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” When the young man heard this he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished, saying, “Who then can be saved?” But Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

Over the past few weeks I’ve encountered this story twice: once through my pastor’s Sunday sermon and once through my own personal readings. Between those lines I found a call to action. This same trumpet sounding distracted me from what the lines themselves were saying.

I feel the materialistic culture of America and its “dream” has made many of us the “wealthy young man”. Our personal experiences may call foul at such an accusation, but when you consider how many possessions we consider necessities and how much leisure has been laid upon the banquet table of our spare time, the common class enjoy a financial security not known to the majority of human history.

Given my ambitions for the majority of life have focused in some manner on commercial product or personal glory creating commercial product, I felt as if this passage was calling me to let go. To prioritize my faith in such a manner that I needed to begin building the train now despite having no tracks for it to ride. I did not want to believe that I would be too attached to my possessions as the wealthy young man in the story, or that my analysis of games and their design was such a core part of my identity.

I think I lost myself in the blinding light of my zealotry. Drafts of little satisfaction sit abandoned in my Google drive, spared the accumulation of bits and bytes of cobweb through immaterial existence. I felt foolish or silly. The ideas and concepts I put forth were either obvious or just demanding mockery by those that did not share in my beliefs. “Come! This is the man that wishes to share his faith. See the vastness of his idiocy, comparable only to the breadth of the Heaven in which he believes!”

I suppose this is part of why I have found myself in a writer’s block. The physical ailments I suffered the past couple of weeks have not helped. An unforeseen one-two combo punch of discomfort and mucus. In that time I felt myself continuously drawn back to video games and anime, my mind furiously grinding upon design elements and narrative structures so that it need not ruminate on my ails. It was on Wednesday night this week past I found myself surprisingly energized with the transcription of hand-written notes on Iconoclasts and Tomb Raider. A surging fire emboldened me to actually take part in the #GameStruck4 hashtag, reveling in this medium of creativity and challenges of the mind. I was like an archeologist returning to the dig after too much time in a stuffy office striving to muster up grant money and grad students. Here was my gift. This was my passion.

Guilt wrapped itself about my heart like the serpent Kaa from The Jungle Book. The passage from Matthew continued beating upon my brow the failure of the wealthy young man. Shouldn’t God be my passion above all others? How could I fail to let go of my worldly attachments so easily? How could I have allowed myself to be such an addict?

It was only upon a third reading that I discovered something I hadn’t paid mind to.

I always found some degree of comfort that Christ first instructed the rich young man to “simply” follow the Commandments. Now, if you are to follow the Commandments fully then it is probable you’ll find yourself already performing Christ’s next suggestion to the rich young man. Things such as possessions and wealth be given to the poor and needy as you spend your life spreading the word of God and helping your fellow man. This is what I drew from the entire story as it is written. To “follow the Commandments” in a superficial manner is easy. To follow them in full, however, requires great sacrifice.

There was something more that I had missed. Something I easily overlooked.

“Who, then,” the disciples asked, “can be saved?”

This is an interesting question to ask given how often Christ will emphasize the poor, the least, and the meek being the greatest in the kingdom of God. Is that the sort of response the disciples are asking? Or do they recognize the material desires and obsession that all of man shares regardless of social class? Or do they simply mean “who among the wealthy can be saved?”

Regardless of what inspired the question, Christ notes the impossible difficulty there is for the wealthy to enter Heaven. So here I am. The wealthy young man struggling between my desire to serve as a Christian and my lifelong passions for media, entertainment, and art. How, then, can I be saved?

Well, the answer is clear and simple. “With man this is impossible, but with God, all things are possible.”

In my zealotry I have tried to push myself into doing something that could visibly show a newfound importance of faith in my life. I wanted to do something that reflected the knowledge and values I was absorbing. I wanted to to speak of my faith so that I might make good on my servitude to the Lord.

The problem is that I’m not ready to do so. Not on a regular basis, and not with any authority. I may be repeating much of what I said last column, but the lesson had yet to be firmly struck home. It may not be my role to write about Christ or the Christian perspective of pop culture in any capacity at all. Trying to write about my journey on my blog could do more harm than good, pushing people further away from the faith instead of drawing them towards it or – at the very least – establishing a less hostile communication. A simple misunderstanding on my part could become another bullet in the chamber for someone insistent on shooting religious belief in the head.

The intentions are good, but the method is foolish and hasty. It also ignores that it was through my love of video games that I even went to the College I did and met the people necessary to finally begin having a relationship with God. My interests in game design taught me to be analytical in a way that has enriched my reading of the Bible. Who is to say that these passions of mine cannot still be used in some unexpected way?

Two of my current models of Christian thinking are J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Prominent writers that had their own passion for the worldly materials of myth and literature. Middle Earth is a realm with its own divine entities and no presence of Christ. Does this mean J.R.R. Tolkien did not serve God? Or do the Christian values in his works speak across boundaries where modern Christian media draws dividing lines? Did his late night conversation with C.S. Lewis not go on to convert one of the greatest Christian writers of the twentieth century?

Having a passion for worldly things does not mean you automatically fail to serve God. It is not a binary situation or choice.

I don’t know what my service to the Lord will entail. Though I feel the desire in my heart, I may never become a youth leader. That’s how life is. You can try and try to become something, to succeed, but if my life has taught me anything it is that failure is a much more likely guarantee. Right now, this amateur journey and these indulgent essays are all I am capable of. Once I am capable of more, then I will have already begun acting upon it. I am not giving up Sunday Studies, but I will not pressure myself to have something to write every week.

My deepest thanks to those that have chosen to continue following me on this journey of faith.