To PlayStation or not to PlayStation

Once people get to know me, they find out fairly quickly that I love video games. I’m not obsessed with them, I just happen to enjoy departing the real world for a while and entering one of pure fantasy that someone else came up with. I have a particular fondness for the Final Fantasy series. Because of that fondness, and because I recently graduated, I’m now forced to either give it up or get my own PlayStation® (eventually a PS2, but for now we’ll speak of the PS1). This will cost my wallet about $100 and another $20 or more for each of the games. We’re talking about a purchase total of at least $125-$140. The spontaneous part of me doesn’t think about the price tag (or ethics) involved, or if I can even afford that over the span of a month’s pay. My spontaneous side begs me to just buy it and be done with stupid questions. The more rational side of me, which I’m learning to appreciate more since it has the habit of helping me pay rent, tells me that I simply cannot afford it, and further, that it’s a lot of money to spend for someone who is trying to live simply. Couldn’t the money be put to better use in a donation to missions or other worthy church program? This begs the further question, does living simply necessarily mean the abandonment of things we enjoy? I don’t think it does, and not just because I want a PlayStation at some point.

Living simply cannot be congruent with living sadly or without joy and some level of contentment. Mother Teresa lived a very simple life and, as far as I can tell, she was perfectly content and satisfied. The same would go for what I know of St. Francis of Assisi, the Apostle Paul and the monks I’ve met at St. Andrew’s in Valyermo, California.

Living simply doesn’t mean living in poverty either. The monks at Valyermo are Benedictine and do not take a vow of poverty. Yet they live grandly on simple means and are not in want. They aren’t poor, and neither are they multi-millionaires. But they are joyful servants of God.

Taken to its extreme, an attempt to live poorly seems to miss the point. Then the only book I would own would be my Bible, and even that could easily be a free pocket Bible like those passed out on campus every now and then. I wouldn’t own the computer I’m typing this on. I would refuse all entertainment. But Jesus doesn’t call us to asceticism, and in fact aiming at poverty can be a form of self-absorption. Based on the way the monks and others I know have lived, living simply can be taken to mean giving as much as is possible away and keeping what is needed to sustain yourself. But does that leave room for things such as cable television, the occasional Friday night movie or a PlayStation? Many Christians (including me) feel justified in having a computer or going to the movies every now and then, or going out for a nice dinner.

A friend of mine attended a seminar on living simply at Urbana 2000 lead by Susie Veon, director of Campus by the Sea, an InterVarsity camp off the coast of California. I missed the seminar because it was full, but in reading the notes my friends took, one thing that stands out is the idea of buying things that relate to your passion. For instance, the worship team at Urbana had some very nice, but very expensive instruments. One could conceivably question the expenditure. However, the nicer instruments allowed the worship team to better lead the 20,000 delegates in worship and helped to further them along in discovering their passions. Could there be any real question about the worship team’s investment?

The question about a PlayStation arises for me because it is purely a personal form of entertainment. I can’t really share a lot of the game playing since many are for one player. Others could play while I’m not playing, but somehow that doesn’t seem like the best context for serving others or a very justifiable ministry. Besides, video games aren’t really even my passion; they are my occasional vacation from other things. I would do better to be working on figuring out what my passion is.

And that is why, at least for now, I cannot justify purchasing a PlayStation. First of all, God does not want me to escape from real life. He wants to teach me to rely on him for help with my problems. So when I’m tempted to escape, the first thing I should do is pray, not for a way out, but for faith enough to at least hold on until the trial has passed.

At the feeding of the 5,000 and later of the 4,000 in Mark, the disciples wanted to let the crowds of people go on their own to eat. They were tired, looking forward to a welcome break on returning from their two-by-two ministries. That escape would not have been received well by the crowd, and Jesus didn’t seem all that interested in letting the people fend for themselves. Jesus knew that the best thing for both the crowd and the disciples was for the disciples to serve the crowd. The situation seemed impossible: they were tired and there wasn’t enough food anyway. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the disciples decided to obey Jesus. The act of serving, though, seemed to be impossible with what little food they had. The cool part is that as soon as the disciples started to obey, they found that they had the means to fully obey—and even had food left over! When we want to escape, perhaps there is a way we should be serving even if it seems impossible at first.

A second problem comes in that when my life gets too busy, the last thing I should do is leave the work behind and play video games. Some things can really offer true rest and stress relief, but video games don’t fall into that category for me, though they may for you. Resting in God is the only true way to find rest, even if only for a few moments, before tackling the remainder of my workload. Resting should be the response that I have when my life gets hectic and I need time to breath. Even better, in taking a regular Sabbath, I can continually lay my business before God in prayer. Those actions remind me that God comes even before the busyness of my life.

Going to the PlayStation to get away puts the PlayStation where God should be in my life. By coming to God in prayer, I find that distractions and desires are dealt with in good time once I lay them at his feet. Even further, those desires are usually not simply taken away, but fulfilled in some way that is much better and grander than any fulfillment I could have found on my own.

But God’s fulfillment—because it is real—can take a very long time to show up in our lives. For a comforting and yet challenging story about waiting in the midst of very great desires, read Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot, who waited for about five years to marry the man she loved. She can totally relate to waiting for romance, and what she says is applicable to waiting for any desire that I can imagine.

Does this mean that I won’t be getting a PlayStation? For now, yes, it does. If it becomes financially possible and if I learn how to avoid relying on video games rather than looking to Jesus, maybe then I’ll get one. I imagine, though, that once I find that my greatest joy is to rely on Jesus fully, I’ll find that my desire to play Final Fantasy will be diminished. It will be replaced with a greater desire and joy for Jesus himself.

—Robert Yocum graduated from the University of Redlands, CA in 2000. He’s been known to watch the entire Star Wars trilogy in one sitting and debate the stranger points of theology into the wee hours. In a few years, he hopes to attend Fuller Seminary to pursue a degree in theology.