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in minecraft, everything begins at a spawn point.
an empty, randomly generated world.
trees, mountains, water, stone surround you.
your hands are empty.
but everything is full of potential.
you build, block by block, with patience.
but with creation comes the fall
in the game and in life.
you dig too deep and find yourself in a dark cave.
you become the wreckage of a creeper explosion.
and suddenly, you’ve lost everything.
in minecraft, after that loss comes respawn.
you meet the death screen.
and then, you start again.
maybe your items are gone.
maybe you’ve lost your way.
you try to return to where you died in five minutes
to save what you dropped…
but most of the time, you fail.
still, you’re alive again.
dying is frustrating, of course,
but there’s one thing you know for sure: you will respawn.
and this isn’t just a game mechanic.
maybe this is what resurrection tells us, too:
death is not the end.
the resurrection of jesus isn’t just a historical event;
it’s an invitation from god,
reminding us that we can rise again,
every time.
a promise of hope given to all:
what is broken can be made whole,
what is lost can be found,
what is dead can live again.
minecraft doesn’t consciously carry this theology, of course.
and yet, you can feel the rhythm in it:
destruction and rebuilding.
fear and courage.
loneliness and community.
they’re all part of minecraft.
and somehow, they’re part of our story too.
i play minecraft with keep inventory on.
i’m afraid of losing everything.
not just in the game
in life, too.
my things, my direction, people i love…
loss comes easily,
but accepting it doesn’t.
even the idea of starting over only comforts me
if i feel like i still have something left to hold on to.
and that’s exactly where i try to remember
what i’ve learned about god:
even if i lose everything, god doesn’t leave me.
and that’s enough.
lord,
you are the one who doesn’t leave me when all else is gone.
the one who resets me when i lose my way,
who gives meaning to empty worlds.
rebuild me.
stay with me.
an empty, randomly generated world.
trees, mountains, water, stone surround you.
your hands are empty.
but everything is full of potential.
you build, block by block, with patience.
but with creation comes the fall
in the game and in life.
you dig too deep and find yourself in a dark cave.
you become the wreckage of a creeper explosion.
and suddenly, you’ve lost everything.
in minecraft, after that loss comes respawn.
you meet the death screen.
and then, you start again.
maybe your items are gone.
maybe you’ve lost your way.
you try to return to where you died in five minutes
to save what you dropped…
but most of the time, you fail.
still, you’re alive again.
dying is frustrating, of course,
but there’s one thing you know for sure: you will respawn.
and this isn’t just a game mechanic.
maybe this is what resurrection tells us, too:
death is not the end.
the resurrection of jesus isn’t just a historical event;
it’s an invitation from god,
reminding us that we can rise again,
every time.
a promise of hope given to all:
what is broken can be made whole,
what is lost can be found,
what is dead can live again.
minecraft doesn’t consciously carry this theology, of course.
and yet, you can feel the rhythm in it:
destruction and rebuilding.
fear and courage.
loneliness and community.
they’re all part of minecraft.
and somehow, they’re part of our story too.
i play minecraft with keep inventory on.
i’m afraid of losing everything.
not just in the game
in life, too.
my things, my direction, people i love…
loss comes easily,
but accepting it doesn’t.
even the idea of starting over only comforts me
if i feel like i still have something left to hold on to.
and that’s exactly where i try to remember
what i’ve learned about god:
even if i lose everything, god doesn’t leave me.
and that’s enough.
lord,
you are the one who doesn’t leave me when all else is gone.
the one who resets me when i lose my way,
who gives meaning to empty worlds.
rebuild me.
stay with me.