The stories we tell ourselves matter a lot. It’s how we see the world, part of the frame we look through to understand what’s going on.

I’ve been playing Star Wars Jedi Survivor, a computer game. My daughter called it an interactive movie; I make choices in the game and it runs its plot, its storyline around my choices. The graphics are stunning, very realistic, with beautiful terrain. The gameplay is engaging and fun. I get to run and jump in a way I have never been able to do in real life; my character would be the envy of gymnasts the world over. There’s lots of combat. Most characters I meet want to kill me, my character; self-defense plays a huge part in the game, far more than it does in real life.

I play a Jedi knight, following a strict code of conduct that includes helping everyone and defending the helpless. I’m also a wanted man, hunted by the Empire and by bounty hunters. My character is a threat to bullies everywhere, because the original Jedi Knights were do-gooders with weapons. I inherited that reputation. Dangerous, traitorous to the Empire, incorrigible obstacles to bullies and thieves, the remaining Jedi Knights are ronin, without clan or boss. In the game my character has friends, but they are not able to defend me; rather, I must defend them or lose them forever. I’m a vigilante, a terrorist, a powerful loose cannon.

My character dies a lot. Frequently. In game I can respawn, start over from the last save point, but I must regain the skill points and experience I lost in death. I feel simultaneously very strong and helpless.

In this the game mirrors real life, a distorted image with genuine depth. My actual life does not involve life-or-death combat; it does require persistence, trying over and over and over. My friends can be lost forever; some are simply gone, with no explanation. Others fade away. Some leave for other shores where I choose not to follow. There is opposition to me, to my efforts. I don’t get mocked online much mainly because I haven’t attracted attention from anyone who chose to bully. I’ve watched in horror as others have been tortured by unknown online assailants. I’ve listened as my friends fight against apathy, against inertia, against government agents and independent contractors whose self interests don’t align to help. I’m sticking to a code of conduct I chose, but it’s not one that everyone agrees with. Even my close family, generally supportive and kind, doesn’t agree on everything.

In short, I am surviving. Jedi Survivor means a lot to me; the story explores what to do when your purpose, what you thought your life was about, isn’t working. What to do when your efforts feel as effective as squeegeeing water? The water flows right back. The Jedi Knight in the story finds a way to pivot, a reason to change direction. He chooses a different path.

I get to choose for myself. I have been homeschooling for 25 years. My youngest son is about to graduate. My youngest daughter is planning to leave home. I will no longer be taking them to activities, waiting for them to finish.

I also have challenges. I have not worked a job full time since before my first child was born, 30 plus years ago. I’ve taught an array of homeschool co-op classes, but have no documented work history. I’m capable, and tired. My body is no spring chicken. My abdomen aches and I have a trick knee.

I’m well-educated, with an associates degree, no bachelors; I have experience teaching and caring for children, but no education degree. Therefore my opportunities to work in a field requiring stamps of approval is limited. That’s probably for the best, honestly. I don’t like bureaucracy. Paperwork makes my skin crawl. There are purposes to documentation, but covering one’s ass with it makes it toilet paper.

The political and social situation in the United States of America is untenable. It’s about to tip further. In past ages God has told his people to pack up and move to a new promised land. He gave that instruction when the lives of his people were literally in danger; mine’s not yet, I don’t think, but I can see disunity and conflict growing. God promised us that this time there would not be a new exodus to a separate land. This time there will be gathering to holy places, defined as the temple. Our leaders want us to gather in the temple, but not to live IN the temple; we are to make our homes like the temple, our bodies like the temple.

“Like the temple” means pure and clean, uplifting, calming, cheerful, peaceful, hopeful, loving, places where God and His Holy Spirit are glad to reside. I can’t do this perfectly, but I can try. God promises to help my efforts. And I can help other people, through my writing, through teaching, through building community wherever I go.

The Jedi Knight in the game builds a community of people who choose to gather. He does not lead the group but he does defend it. He literally puts his life on the line for them. I can do that, defending love and kindness against shame and guilt. What is a life but time? I can use my time to help people, share what I’ve learned, encourage and uplift.