I like checkers. I haven’t played in a while but I was unbeatable when I was in second grade. The game goes quickly and it’s direct: You only advance at first—there’s no backing up, and then I’ll try to jump your checker piece before you jump mine. Whoever wipes out the other player first wins. It’s satisfying.
On the other hand, I hate chess, where you sit and think, and then you sit and think some more. You can’t visit with each other because you’re supposed to concentrate, and I get fidgety.
I usually get impatient and think, Screw it! Charge! Wipe out everything in my path and GET THAT KING! And then my opponent cheats and beats me with one of those damnable strategies concocted in the 18th century by some guy with a weird name, and he usually takes my king out with a lowly pawn.
I’m getting restless, almost hoping someone will find me out and expose me so I have no choice but to move on. A friend expressed concern that I may be getting too reckless, and I can see she is right. It’s best to stay in control, keep thinking, and choose my path wisely.
Tomorrow is Sunday and once more I’ll lead rituals I don’t believe in, and phrase my sermon carefully so I won’t feel like too much of a liar. Some will tell me I’m a wonderful man of God while others plot to get rid of me, not because I’m evil or immoral, but because they’re threatened by me. However it’s not really me—they always feel threatened.
I’ll worry that I’ve already been found out and within the day my wife, children, and I will be thrown out of the parsonage and into the street while my neighbors peek through their windows at us as they lock their doors. And then my elderly parents who were so proud their son was a minister will find out and be ashamed, and other family members will quietly decide not to talk to me, and my lifelong friends will desert me. And my children will be alone and friendless through no fault of their own.
I’ll go to the church building with my head and heart pounding, and my blood pressure so high that I’m dizzy.
And that’s when I want to say from the pulpit, “SCREW IT! I DON’T BELIEVE THIS SHIT AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU!” I'll stride out the door, taking my family with me and we’ll leave with the clothes on our backs and take to the streets of our own volition,
But then I’ll swallow hard, tamp down the panic, and go to work like I always have.
But the day is coming when I can’t do this anymore, and it’s coming soon, whether or not I have an exit strategy.
This isn’t checkers or chess.