Deadly Chess Game

One stupid move can kill you.

We don't like to believe that, but it's true.

I've known since I turned up as a little kid in a large family that I don't think like everyone else. Shy and observant by nature, I spent a lot of time, even then, watching people and drawing conclusions. Even the Myers-Briggs personality testing says I'm an INFJ, which is rare.

The I and the J are the most significant. What they mean, in an nutshell, is that I am introverted rather than extroverted and that I form judgments easily--that is, I tend to think everyone should play by the rules. (I'm really working on making the judging a positive rather than a negative thing.) As far as being introverted, I am no longer so shy that I cannot function in society, so, well, I like it. I don't need as much external stimulation. I make my own amusement. Heck, if I had twelve months of solitude, I could finally get the six books in my head out.

I rarely turn on a TV or a radio. I just don't think about it. I do read newspapers and whatever else amuses me, and I spend a lot of time with the information in my head. I love people and have a long list of those I love to spend time with, but I am also content with my own company.

I realize many people need more stuff going on to keep them from being bored, and I'm cool with that. But, in defense of introverts, I am glad that I don't need the Jazz to win in order to be happy. I am less likely to become depressed over an outside event over which I have no control. A nice way to put this that my extroverted husband came up with is to think of myself as an emotional mammal, as opposed to an emotional lizard: I create my own warmth and don't need to be out sunning myself on the rock.

So, while I'm thinking my thoughts that not everyone else thinks, I find myself wondering about thrill-seeking people who end up dead. Perfectly nice, promising, talented people making stupid moves that cost them--and others--dearly. Not that I don't make stupid moves, too. I do on a daily basis, but they are usually closer to home and less likely to be lethal.

It seems like there are constant news stories of people going out to Mount Hood and getting stuck in the snow, for example. It's great that there are rescue teams, but I always think about the misery of the rescuers, too, as they go out to the same dangerous or cold location and risk their own lives. Rescue missions are expensive. Some involve over 100 rescuers and thousands of man hours. At an estimate of $20 an hour, that would cost more than I paid for my first house. But thrill-seeking humans don't seem to think about that. They hike or crawl or drive or ski out to a place of no return, and it takes a lot of others to follow them and bring them back.

There are news stories about these individuals at least once a week, yet I've never heard anyone speak up and say, "Hey! What are we doing?" So I'm sticking my neck out and saying it. Am I the only one who thinks doing dangerous things or getting stuck out in the wilderness is nuts?

By kindergarten, we're told not to go farther than we can find their way back, not to accept rides or candy from strangers, to stay put when lost, to wear a helmet, to stuck to our buddy and not wander off alone. By the time we're adults, we have heard all the rules like not swimming during a lightening storm, not hiking alone, not using electricity in the water, not driving drunk, being prepared before we set out. We've all heard of people who have died in accidents.

Yet, something in us seems to resist these warnings. We don't think they apply to us, in this situation. Or something. But why wouldn't they? When they said, "Never do. . ." they meant, well, never. Maybe as we grow up, we gain too much confidence in our abilities, or in our good luck. I think it's great to stretch ourselves to find our limits, but then we need to accept our limits when we find them. I had a yes-you-are-too-mortal wake-up call this fall, so I know.

Maybe some high schools didn't require enough reading of Jack London stories in high school. There's a reason humans went from living in caves to building houses. There's a reason we learned to grow and store food rather than chancing it all winter, that we have constantly improved our technology to make things easier for us. The civilizations we have created protect us from the elements and other dangers. Houses are safer than cliffs.

I am always sad to read these stories. I think not only of the person who suffered the tragedy, but the people he or she left behind to suffer in their absence. Except for people who were minding their own business in their homes when a tornado, flood, or out-of-control vehicle came and crashed into their world, the tragedies usually seem to have been preventable. If people would follow the rules.

A decision to ignore a rule usually turns out to be one insignificant moment in time, but should we count on that? It can also leave a young woman a widow on Thanksgiving Day, a toddler with no father for the rest of her life. Is a thrill worth that risk? What am I missing?

The use of the word "tragedy" in these situations reminds me of my college days when I studied classical literature. A tragedy, as opposed to a comedy, was a story in which the hero had a "tragic flaw." Something--pride, greed, ambition--in the personality or mind of the person led him to his inevitable, horrible end. The plays and stories were intended to show that following a tragic flaw, instead of the rules of society that keep people safe and in line, would destroy you.

Going out to challenge the wilderness just doesn't appeal to me. I have no doubt it would win. But what I really don't like is when people ignore obvious rules and then blame God for the outcome. I do believe that sometimes He will step in to help us. But not every time. He gave us our free agency, but He also gave us our brains. I believe, in my humble opinion as a nobody, that if we create a huge problem while making bad decisions, the consequences of that are on our own heads. I cannot imagine a world where God would step in every single time we are about to be foolish and stop us. How would we ever mature past the age of fourteen months?

Some people are fatalists. They believe that, no matter what they do, they won't die if it isn't their "time to die." And that when it is their time, they could be sitting in the chair with a safety belt and a helmet on watching TV and it would still happen. I would love to find out--so if you're walking in old tennis shoes along the edge of a really narrow, high cliff, and you decide to close your eyes as you walk, it's God's fault when you slip? What if you somehow did survive a stupid decision? Would God have to come up with something else in order to kill you at that time?

So He allows us to be stupid if we want to. But I think if I showed up on His doorstep after riding a motorcycle without a helmet, for example, He would ask me what I'm doing there. I think He would show me the tears of my grieving children and I would have to weigh that burden against the reason I chose to be stupid. I don't think Death by Stupid Decision equals one's "time to go." I think it is more accurately describes an untimely death, a waste, a tragedy, even, perhaps, a sin.

I think God would ask me why I exchanged my life for a thrill, why I didn't play it safe enough to stick around so He could use me to do some good in the world. That puts a whole new meaning into hiding one's talent in the earth.

We are involved in a real live chess game. Our choices do impact our fate. The dark queen almost certainly will take your queen if you put it in the wrong place at the wrong time.