Level Up: The Power of 'Start' After Leaving Christianity

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We all start somewhere. Many of us were handed a "game" at birth—a set of beliefs and values that shaped our understanding of the world. From country to country. And century to century. We all got one. One place, and one time.

For many millennial men, our game was Christianity. A great place to start! We played diligently, we leveled up in faith, community, and tradition. We listened, we watched, and we learned. After some time we might pick our head up, out of the game, and find that there are not just one or two other games you missed out on, not even hundreds or thousands; we're talking billions.

Imagine gripping your favorite controller, eyes wide with wonder as you navigate a game that feels like an extension of yourself. This game is all you've ever known. You've mastered its levels, know every hidden quest, scoured every secret level. But then, you look up. You glance. You see an unfamiliar main character as your friend ventures vibrant new worlds, undertakes bigger bosses; experiences stories like you've never even imagined. A spark ignites—there's more than just Mario Kart?

Stepping away from the only game you've ever known can feel daunting. Questions swirl: What if the new game is too complicated? What if the learning curb is too steep? What if I lose my progress in the old one?

Valid questions... just not the only ones.

What if trying a new game doesn't erase the experiences you've had? What if trying a new one enhances the meaning of the old? It... reinforces it, perhaps. What if every game played adds to your skill set, your understanding, your story as the gamer, not the game character?

Deconstructing from a long-held belief isn't about discarding your history with the game; it's about integrating what you've learned, bringing it into the ventures of new territories. It's recognizing that the very nature of being a gamer is to play a multitude of "games". Each adding to your unique combination of lessons and joys. You may not have time to try them all, but you do have the freedom to choose which ones to try.

Pause when you need to. Restart if you want to. Play the games that matter.

You might have been born in a world of Pokémon. Maybe you got Halo. Imagine someone who got lemmings and only knows lemmings. They get to love those little critters as much as you love the pocket monsters. As we leave our games and expand our realities, we need to be mindful to show, not shove.

Everyone deserves the space to discover, to experiment, to find the games—or beliefs—that resonate with them. Which means letting lemming lovers love their lemmings.

Lemmings '91

Imposing our explorations on others diminishes the richness diversity brings to our shared planet. We need the people who only like lemmings for our reality to have people who don't.

Letting go and holding onto something are two sides of the same coin—hope. One uses that hope to feel safe and relaxed. The other uses it to find safety and relaxation. It's about making room for the possibility that my "right" can be your wrong. And your "wrong" can indeed be my right.

Some of us will come to believe that holding onto a single game—or belief system—out of habit or fear limits our potential for growth. By releasing the grip on what's familiar, you open yourself to new opportunities, insights, and experiences that enrich your familiar or expands it.

And let's not kid ourselves, life seems to be an infinitely expanding arcade—like our very universe's expansion—filled with new games for new adventures. Each offers its own set of challenges and rewards, lessons and joys. As we navigate this arcade, we come to understand that our ability to dictate another’s path is limited by our narrow glimpse into their entire gaming history. I've learned that while I can offer tools, perspectives, or even co-play for a while, it isn't me who truly makes the gameplay change—it’s the gamers themselves, using what I notice to their own advantage, in their own games.

The last 3 years had several new games for me to explore. I've stepped into uncharted territories as a father, a post-Mormon, and a mentor, all with the confidence that I'm not starting from scratch. I know I'm a seasoned player equipped with the wisdom and experiences from every game I've ever played. And as I embark on another day, I bring my awareness that so is everyone else. Whatever game, whatever level you're on, they are uniquely yours to explore. They might be challenging, unfamiliar, even a bit daunting—but they also hold the potential for whatever comes next.

So, as you think about stepping away from the OG game—Christianity, or whatever your starting line-up was—it's not about ditching what you've learned. We’re giving a high-five to our past selves for getting us here with all our XP in tow. Leaving Christianity isn't just a side quest; it’s a whole new game. And it's time to see what you're made of.

Smash that 'Start' button, and let your game(s) begin.