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I once worked for an international nonprofit serving people from all over the world with different cultures, socioeconomic circumstances and spiritual beliefs. Diversity training and cultural awareness experiences were regular and frequent. One training exercise involved playing cards. The conference room had been arranged into several card tables. At each place was a face-down piece of paper. At the appointed time we were instructed to flip the paper over and familiarize ourselves with the rules to a card game. We only had a minute and then we turned in our paper and played the game. We were not allowed to talk to each other or ask questions during the game. If you haven’t realized yet, I’m very competitive so I was determined to be the winner of whatever game we were playing. I’m also analytical – ok, an over-thinker -- and I suspected this was about more than playing cards silently. Was this a test to see how we communicate when we don’t speak the same language? How well we think on our feet when confronted with new situations and not much time? How well we learn the rules to something unfamiliar? All of these options raced through my brain as the game began. I can best describe the rules as being something like the card game Spades. The goal was to take as many cards or “tricks” as possible. All the cards had a hierarchical value and one suit was most powerful and could override the others. Not being allowed to talk made things even more challenging. Through pantomime, waving and pointing we had to prompt each other just to communicate whose turn was next. And when my tablemates clearly hadn’t understood the rules and played the wrong card, I had to rely on a protesting squeak, shake of my head and stern look of disapproval to encourage them to follow suit. Spoiler alert: The secret of the game – the big reveal discovered in the post-game discussion -- was that we all were playing by different rules. Some instructions said hearts was the most powerful suit while others indicated it was diamonds. Even the value of the cards varied — sometimes the ace had the highest point value in its suit other times it was the lowest. Their understanding of the game’s rules impacted the choices players made. I think this is a metaphor for life. If the hand you have been dealt in life is not full of the cards or the thing (money, power, love and legacy) that you covet, you play the game constantly seeking them and discarding the cards/things you believe have no value. Steve’s current sermon series on Stewardship seems to invite us to play the game of life with God as our partner. By focusing on God – no matter what hand we are dealt -- we make decisions about how we use our resources of time, money and love. And that makes every hand a winner. Colleen Hart
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