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It’s a short list, but there is a list. The list of sermon series I’d love to do. It may be a lack of time, a lack of familiarity – though that’s also often the allure – or a concern that it just won’t land. And for a preacher, few things are worse than being in the middle of a series that nobody’s feeling. But emails are different. If you don’t like it you don’t have to sit through it. You can just delete it and we’ll never speak of it again. So here’s one from the list: Lessons in Gaming. There is a genre of games called roguelikes, named after the first of its kind, Rogue, released in 1980. They are distinct from other games which, while they can also be challenging, their surprises, scares, placement of obstacles, etc., remain the same. In most games you progress by learning what was created and navigating it successfully. For example, when I go back to a game I’ve played before I know what to expect; second playthroughs are always easier, even though progression still has to be achieved, because I know where to go and what awaits. Roguelikes shake that up through procedural generation of the game’s locations, challenges, and enemies. No playthrough is ever the same as another; every time you restart you won’t know what you’re walking into or what challenges you’ll find there. And restart you will, because the other qualities that distinguish this genre are extreme risk and hard-earned progression. In short: they are notoriously difficult, especially in the early stages. That may not sound like fun to you. It didn’t to me either… until I tried one and loved it. There’s something about their hard-earned progression that offers a particular experience of accomplishment and challenges me to be patient (which is not easy for me, but that’s another email). The communities around roguelikes are also distinct. While there’s certainly an appreciation for those who achieve the highest triumphs, there is also celebration for those who haven’t and may never do so. In one I enjoy, Dead Cells, the challenge can be ramped up significantly, with five additional tiers of difficulty you have to earn admission into. But accomplishments are relative in roguelikes; many players (like me) will never beat 5BC, the highest difficulty, or even see it outside of YouTube. But when someone shares their achievements in the lower tiers, they are just as celebrated and encouraged. I believe these communities and their devotion for the genre is based around the unique character of roguelikes, captured in part by an expression often applied: “failure is rewarded”. The games are designed with failure in mind because you will fail. A lot. But failure is not “game over”, failure is “what did you learn? Now try again.” Failure is expected, so you find ways to experience it differently. Failure takes on new qualities. Can even be rewarded. How were you defeated? What did you learn? Now try again. Failure is expected, and you failed again. No surprise. What can you learn from it? Now try again. Oops, didn’t see that one coming. I forgot there could be spikes at the bottom of pits in this biome. Maybe don’t down smash when you don’t know what’s below you next time. Now try again. And again. And again. What did you learn? Now try again. I fear failure outside of gaming, but I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. Fear of failure means missing opportunities to try new things and to learn from them. Grace doesn’t give us permission to sin, but I do believe it gives us permission to fail. Our call isn’t to succeed, it’s to try. To know and live our genuine selves for God’s kingdom, to bring it here on earth as it is in heaven. And we have failed. And we will fail. Failures are expected. But we are invited, encouraged, called to try again, taking with us what we’ve learned into the next. Rev. Ben Richards
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