DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS

My praying for our children took place mostly on the run, I must admit.  There were periods where I knelt each night to talk to God about their lives, their problems, and their futures.  Sometimes, I would devise formulas to help me to be sure to pray for each one.  For a while, I devoted Sunday to Ken, Monday to Nate (the oldest), Tuesday to Matt, Wednesday to Ginger, Thursday to Georgia, and Friday to Angela.  Though it would fail to pass the “Proper Devotions” test, it was a big help to me in the face of an indescribable lifestyle.

There were times, however, when the Holy Spirit deeply stirred my heart to pray for one of them. When such a burden comes upon you, whether in a flash or over a period of time, there is no question as to its origin.

When Nate was in the Army, we heard from him regularly by phone.  His reports seemed to indicate that things were going well.  He told of his tests and his friends.  We were happy to hear of his involvement with other Christians and a church.  We could tell that it was not his favorite place to be, but he was doing okay.

One day, as I was walking through our living room, an urgent sense of needing to pray for him overcame me.  Dropping to my knees in the middle of the room there on the shaggy carpet, I cried out to God for Nate, not knowing how to pray.  I think I remember praying for His protection over him.

A couple of day later, we received our regular phone call.  We chatted and then, Nate slowly began to tell a story of an incident that had occurred on the very day I had been impressed to pray.  Nate had become involved in the playing of the very captivating game, Dungeons and Dragons.  It was relatively new, and we had heard only bits and pieces about its dangers.

I still don’t understand how it works, but I know that Nate, being highly competitive and an excellent game player, had moved beyond the surface level of the game.  On this particular day, it had come to be his task to kill the son of the king.  He refused.  When he did, another player who was playing the part of some sort of evil being, told Nate that if he refused, he would put the mark of the beast, 666, on his forehead.

Instantly, Nate knew, if he had not known before, that he was where he should not be. Sunday School lessons and sermons and mom-and-dad lessons whispered in his ear. Scrambling from his chair, he announced, “I’m out of here.”

What kind of danger had he really been in?  Was there a significant battle for my son in progress?—a wrestling with principalities and powers, spiritual wickedness in high places, and the rulers of the darkness of this world?  There must have been—else why had God brought me to my knees and whispered Nate’s name?

Be sober. Be vigilant. Be listening.