Home » Dorms » Men's Hall

Entertainment: The Gospel of Avoidance

Distracting Ourselves to Death

Whenever I sit down to write one of these articles, my mind immediately wanders off to all the other things I'd rather be doing. Facebook, though I hate to admit it, is an all-too-frequent destination. And sometimes I'll read a book for "inspiration." Just now I looked up the population of Salt Lake City, Utah. Sometimes you just need to know these kinds of things. Which brings me to my point: I'm way too distract-able. I'd rather entertain myself than deal with the task at hand.

It seems to me that my life as a writer is a microcosm of our culture these days. We are a highly entertained lot. We have so many entertainment options — the Internet, video games and TV, to name a few — that we've come to think that entertaining ourselves is the task at hand.

I think our generation welcomes this cultural shift, and guys especially. I mean, how much easier — not to mention more fun — is it to hone your Halo skills or develop an encyclopedic knowledge of shows like "The Simpsons" than, say, develop your capacity to be a spiritual leader? I'm not trying to establish a false dichotomy here, as if you have to choose between watching some TV and becoming the sort of Christian man you should be. But I do think a little temperance is in order.

Though modern forms of entertainment may not be inherently wrong, I'm concerned that the more we occupy ourselves with them for mere distraction, the more they morph into a sort of false gospel. Let me explain …

The Gospel of Avoidance

The gospel is about knowing Christ. It's about putting faith in His salvific work on the cross, and letting it permeate the entirety of your being — both your thoughts and, just as importantly, your actions. And of course, the gospel is also about spending eternity with our Creator.

But the gospel is also about healing and redemption. Now, I know this is the Men's Hall, and that last sentence probably sounded like so much unmanly psychobabble. But you'll just have to deal with that, because it's true. We all have junk that's wrong with us — sins and wounds that keep us from knowing our Savior intimately. Thankfully, Christ died on the cross to free us from those chains. As one prominent pastor and writer puts it, "The cross is where we present our wounds to God and say, 'Here, you take them.'"¹

In our entertainment-saturated culture we find another kind of gospel, however — the gospel of avoidance. And this gospel is about putting our faith in distractions. We use entertainment to save ourselves from the pain of our lives.² Unlike the real gospel, though, the "good news" of entertainment doesn't truly save us from our problems. It only masks them, helps us repress them. Keeps us from becoming the men God created us to be.

Rather than going to the cross, many of us take our wounds to our computers, TVs or game consoles and say, "Here, you take them." And all these technologies oblige … for a time. At some point, though, we have to press the off button, go to class and face the challenges of the world outside our entertainment bubble. What do we do then? Distract ourselves to such a degree that we haven't got the time to ponder what's really going on in our lives?

That's the gospel of avoidance. And for too many of us, it's our only saving grace.

Video Games: Divide and Conquer

For just a moment, and since this is the Men's Hall, let's put video game playing under the microscope.

So my freshman year of college at Kansas State University I lived in a men-only dorm called Marlatt Hall. A few of my friends referred to the guys in my dorm as the "Marlatt rats." Not unlike their New York City sewering-dwelling counterparts, these dudes just didn't get a whole lot of sun and fresh air. Instead, they spent the majority (or at least a plurality) of their free time playing video games.

Now, all young men, at least the ones I associate with, want to know that they have what it takes, that they're capable. They want to know that they have, as one author puts it, "something of a king in [their] chest."³

Problem is, in order to be this king-chested sort of person, you have to take some risks. And risking anything is, plain and simple, pretty scary. No guy likes the prospect of failing miserably at something and feeling like a loser or getting his heart broken by a girl he loves.

So I wonder how much of this collective obsession with video gaming has to do with guys wanting to minimize the amount and degree of risks in their lives without giving up that feeling of having conquered something. More than most other forms of entertainment, video games offer an emotional reward without any actual, tangible risk. Sure, we might not beat a certain level of a certain game as quickly or as often as we'd like, but all we have to do is start over as if we've never failed in the first place. Eventually we win and feel great about ourselves. Basically, it's an easy high — a feeling of having exerted some of that king-ness without ever risking failure.

But real life isn't like that. There's no restarting, no pause button.

I know life is hard, and playing video games can make is seem less hard. But is being a virtual success any better than trying, and possibly failing, in the real world?

But Video Games Aren't the Only Problem

In the prologue to his most recent book one author wrote, "A writer learns more from what he writes than the reader, and often applies the perspectives after the [work] is written."⁴ This sentiment is truer than I wish to admit. I'm learning a lesson of my own because of this confounded article.

Personally, I don't watch a lot of TV, and I don't play video games. I'm a bookish sort. I'd much rather sit down with a good travel memoir or some inspiring fiction.

So, while reading is arguably more educational than most other forms of entertainment, it can still transmogrify itself from a simple pleasure into an ugly vice.

Case in point: The other day I thought about calling a guy who's new in town to invite him to church. But I didn't do it, at least not at first. I just sat there, reading. After this chapter, I told myself. But after I finished that chapter, I started another.

And that's when God kicked me in the spiritual shorts. I realized I often use reading (reading!) to avoid doing things I knew I should do — something as simple as cleaning my house, or something of eternal significance, like developing a relationship or spending time in the Word.

Guilty as charged.

Abstinence Isn't (Necessarily) the Answer

So, what's a boy to do? That is, how do we address, both practically and spiritually, the issues of entertainment and escapism?

For starters, I don't believe the solution to our entertainment addiction is to don suspenders, grow beards and adopt an Amish-ish lifestyle.⁵ If you think complete abstention from all things entertaining is the answer, go right ahead … though I doubt that alone will solve your problems.

A more practicable solution might include asking yourself why you want to play that video game right now. If it's to avoid something you know you should be doing, well, you know what to do. Or when it comes to movies, try putting a limit on the number (and the kind, certainly) you'll let yourself watch each week. And keeping to a minimum the number of hours we idle away on the Internet is always a good idea. Or, if you're a bookworm like me, maybe you should put down that tome and invest in some good ol' face-to-face conversation.

And as I've been saying, this conundrum has a spiritual dimension as well.

Consider 1 Corinthians 6:12, in which the apostle Paul writes, "'Everything is permissible for me'—but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is permissible for me'—but I will not be mastered by anything" (NIV). Try as we might to construe the "Everything is permissible for me" parts of this verse to mean we have license to do whatever we please, I just don't think that's what it's saying. Instead, this passage should serve as a reminder that, while we do have freedom in Christ, we should guard our hearts from getting wrapped up in things that aren't exactly eternally significant.

And then there's Philippians 3:7-8:

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ.

I realize Paul was talking here about his pedigree as a Jewish scholar, and not his preference for the latest hit reality TV series. But these verses remind me that my relationship with Christ must transcend every other priority in my life.

C O F F E E  S H O P

---

How can we manage our obsession with entertainment?

Join the discussion!

These verses inspire me, too. What do you suppose this world would look like if we all had the fervor for Christ that Paul had? If we all refused to drown our problems in a proverbial sea of entertainment and distraction?

Men, let's do our best to find out.