To those few and far between, if any, who still read my xanga, I have a question that has been playing in my mind these past few hours.  It is a topic that envoke strong opposing emotions among Christians, and Gamers... and lead to an ethical, theological question to Christian Gamers.
Here it is... is Role Playing evil, and if so... why?
I view participating in a session of Dungeons and Dragons to be no more than a blending of table top board games, and effectively writing a story (imagine an improv book, or play.).  With this view, I am inclined to believe that is is not evil.  The hot debate emerges in the question of... does playing a "spell caster" constitute as the Biblical warnings against sorcery and witchcraft?  I have no knowledge of any religion... or even belief system, wherein an individual can do fantastic spells such as mind control, or evoking a fire ball, without the spell being granted by a god or goddess.  Therefore, does sitting around a table in my basement, with a half eaten dominoes pizza and a 2 liter of Mt. Dew, with 5 other friends who all have fictitious characters, and then saying that my nonexistent character shoots a lighting bolt at the goblin, constitute sorcery?  If it does, then I ask... if I were to write a fantasy novel, something along the lines of Lord of the Rings, wherein a character shoots a lighting bolt at a goblin... is that wicked, in the Biblical understanding?  If not... then what is the difference?
I have no personal conviction in my heart from the Holy Spirit... nor do any of the other 5 solid Christians who are playing D&D with me... and yet every Christian that finds out we play, gives me that raised eyebrow that just oozes with the "I'll pray with you.... and keep my distance."  I wonder... while I have no personal conviction... should I? 

Throughout the fortresses of eternety there is light casxcading through all the metal shards within the human conceousness.  I stand holding my dull sword and my rusty sheild against a pounding army of giants and my heart sinks at the site of it all.  The light passes through the shards all around me, bringing the forces of good and evil in and out of vision as shapes become defined by shadow.  My adams apple is a shot put ball as I face the approaching onslaught.  I know not what the outcome is in these worlds, I can only hope that clouds shift and the piercing beams of radience thwarts the enemy.  My mind pounds and my eyes ache as if they are sqeezed from my skull.  My gut tightens and even the nails upon my toes cry out in anguish.
Help me define my beast.

Intelligence is a concept that is so vague, so shapeless, and so relative that there is no true definition of what intelligence is.  Is intelligence based off of knowlege of history, science, and literature?  or is it the potential one has to harbor these.  Is intelligence the ability outwit another in an arguement, or is it the ability to know what it is that your heart believes?  Intelligence can seemingly so easy become pathways to vanity, arrogence, and a feeling of superiority.  It can also, with diciplien, become the pathway to understanding others.  In recent years I have fallen into a place in others eyes that is so very controdicting.  It seems that to many who have made professions out of intelligence, I am to some degree, viewed as the wierd guy who says insane, unfounded things.  To those who have made professions out of expression, I am viewed as a great talent, but isnt wanted.  To those who have made professions out of compassion, I am viewed as a heart that's willing to give, but doesnt always have the means to do so.

I feel like a living controdiction.   I feel like I am not taken seriously.  So I cant recite quotations by authors or the great minds of history.  So I cant solve complex mathematical formulas.  And so I cant recite bible passages.  But what I can do is look into the hearts of others.  Stare at them in their eyes and know.  Often times, this is a source of pain in my heart, for sometiems I wish I could believe the lies that drip from anothers lips.

People seek my advice, my opinion.  But rarely do they take me seriously.  They go ahead and do whatever the heck they want and they come crying back to me.  I cant help by open my arms to them, but it breaks my heart.  Why did you come to me, when you wernt going to listen.  Perhaps it is my lack of mainstream accepted intelligence that makes people take what I say with a grain of salt. 

I dont even know what I'm saying here.  I just wish people could see into my eyes and see me for who I am beyond my inarticulate tongue.  See my heart.  And take me seriously.  It is so hard for me to communicate.  I think in images, colors, sensations, impressions... and when I open my lips i have to try to translate into english.  Sometiems I can be persuasive and poetic.  Other times I come across like a complete idiot.

It frustrates me.  I know so much.  But it is in a language for which no translation exists.

God help me find my rosetta stone.