November 25,1996
Dear Br. Marshburn:
Several weeks ago, while we were talking by telephone, you described to me a new type of sport called paint ball. I confess that I have never heard of it. You summarized it as consisting of men going into the woods and shooting balls of paint at each other with a special paint gun. This sounded like the old fashioned childish game of cowboys and Indians, revived and made into an adult man’s game. I was profoundly astonished to learn that Christian men are playing such games.
I wanted to share with you some thoughts and observations about
this sport and other sports that are similar to it.
I remember, as a young boy growing up in the early 1950’s,
the advent of the play cigarette. They were sugar candy but came
in a package identical to cigarette brand packages and looked
exactly like a real cigarette, including a glowing red tip. The
object, of this candy, was obvious, to teach children the technique
of holding and puffing on a real cigarette. As children, we quickly
imitated the way adults held their cigarettes, even pretended
to puff on them, and even stood the way a man (women didn’t
smoke in those days) would stand. All the mannerisms, of a smoker,
even the language of smoking, was quickly imitated by the neighborhood
children.
I have always wondered how many children went on to the real thing
when they were old enough to buy cigarettes for themselves, having
already learned the art of smoking from these so called harmless
candy cigarettes?
There was another game that we played frequently, and that was
cowboys and Indians or a variant of it, called cops and robbers.
Of course, everyone wanted to be a cowboy and kill Indians, this
was before the days of political correctness with its emphasis
on native Americans, or we wanted to be the robber. It was more
fun to kill the savages and rob the banks and elude the cops then
it was to be the Indians and get killed or the cops and capture
the robbers. I think you see the parallel here between sin and
righteousness. As unconverted children, it was always more fun
to be sinful and kill and rob then it was to be righteous and
live in harmony with God’s creation or capture the bad guys.
Being good simply wasn’t as much fun, but being bad, now
that was fun!
Not having been a child for nearly 40 years, and not having small
children of my own, I don’t know what games children are
playing today, but I can imagine. With the increase in unrestrained
wickedness, that has occurred in the last two generations, and
the advent of television and video games, I would suppose that
the games of children, today, are even more wicked then they were
when I grew up.
At least we played our games outdoors and got lots of exercise
while today children play their games indoors in front of the
television set and get fat and lazy. There was, at least, some
redeeming value in our games, whereas there is no redeeming value
in the games of children today.
Men, more so then women, who bear children, have a tendency to
resist growing up and assuming adult responsibilities. This can
be seen in the children’s classic, Peter Pan, who was a boy
who refused to mature. Often, classic fiction mirrors reality
better then the trash fiction of the last several generations.
Back in the good old days, people know how to write.
Almost all of the sports, that men love to watch or play, are
variants on the old fashioned childish games of good against bad.
Every sport has, as a basic element, the conquering of your opponent.
If men would stop and think what this involves, Christian men,
at least, would leave sports alone. The desire to conquer an opponent
is not Christ-like, but the desire for supremacy originates with
Satan. Therefore, all sports, that have conquest as their basic
element, wether they are football, racing, basketball, tennis,
gulf, competitive swimming, or even chess, are built around an
idea that originated in the mind of Satan.
Imagine, for a moment, a game of softball, based on Christ’s kingdom of love. It is the bottom of the ninth inning and the Blue Jays and Robins are tied. The Robins are at bat and the blue jay pitcher winds up and throws a soft ball straight into the hitting zone in such a fashion that the batter can’t possibly miss the ball. The Robins batter swings, the ball flies into center field and drops at the feet of a Blue Jays outfielder who was looking in the wrong direction. Everybody, including the Blue Jay team urges the Robins batter, who is lame, to walk as fast as possible, while the Blue Jay outfielder is looking everywhere for the ball, except at his own feet. The tension mounts as the Robins walker rounds first, coached by the Blue Jays first base man and encouraged by all the fans. The Blue Jays outfielder, suddenly discovering the ball as his feet, bends over to pick it up in his glove, then discovers that his shoe lace is untied. Knowing that an untied show can interfere with his throwing arm, he pauses to tie his shoes, while the walker rounds second base. Then grabbing the ball, in his glove, the outfielder, confidently throws it to the first base man who drops it in his excitement at encouraging the walker who is even now struggling to cross third base. Reminded of his duty, the first base man, grabs the ball, and vigorously throws it to the second base men, who misses it. The ball lands at the feet of the Blue Jays outfielder who had originally thrown it to the first base man. But in his eager anticipation and joy over the run about to be scored by the Robins walker, he forgets to pick up the ball until the walker has crossed home plate. The game dissolves into universal rejoicing over the wonderful play of the hitter and both sides adjourn to enjoy some lemonade and sandwiches. End of game. Nobody would ever remember who won only that the crippled hitter scored the winning run. What a game!
How many people, especially men, would enjoy this type of game,
or would they prefer that the crippled man stay home. I also remember,
when I was a child, being chosen by one side or the other for
a school yard baseball game. How I hated this choosing process.
Because I could not see the ball, in time to actually hit it,
I was invariably chosen last. The blow, to my self esteem, to
know that no one wanted me on their team, was highly unpleasant,
to say the least. And people say sports builds character. It may
build a Satanic character, but it certainly does not build a Christ-like
character.
Now back to paint ball. This man’s game is nothing more then
a variant on the childish game of cowboys and Indians. It might
better be called refined warfare, for the object is to kill you
opponent, even though the killing is done with paint. All the
actions, of creeping through the woods, stalking an opponent,
ambushes, guns, camouflage clothing, suggest that the real intent
of this harmless game is to practice for the real thing. And what
is the real thing that is being practiced, actual killing. If
men are so desirous of playing this game, then let them join the
army, or the national guard, where the training is real, the ammunition
is real and so is military discipline and a command structure
that prevents unwanted killing of the wrong people.
Christian men, who desire to live for Christ, will never play
these types of games, or go hunting, which is the same thing.
Here are manifested a desire to kill, wound, and cause injury
to animals or human beings created in the image of God. How can
any man call himself a Christian when his actions suggest that
his heart is imbued with the attributes of Satan?
As Christian men, we need greater discernment to understand the
consequences of our actions. There is a way which seemeth right
unto a MAN but the ends thereof are death. Perhaps the death,
spoken of here, may not be our death, but someone will certainly
die, for Christ regards the thought of murder as the action itself,
lacking only the opportunity. Those who persist in this hellish
sport of paint ball will sooner or later be given the opportunity
to kill, and they will have learned their lessons well. How much
better to be a merciful servant of Christ then an effective killer
for Satan.
May the Lord richly bless you. Your brother in Christ.
Allen Benson
