Holdfast

I’ve come to realize that for some, the word “community” is a scary word.

We moderns seem to be more interested in the individualistic way of life that carrot-and-sticks us slowly to death than the scary, proximate life that gives longevity. For those that do find some kind of community, ghosting and non-confrontation are a common element. Relationships have become fragile and prone to injury.

If the word “community” begins to sound more like “minefield” in our hearts, we’ll naturally avoid it. But, some experiences lately have given me hope for the future, and in turn, hope for the Church’s presence in culture and society.

As a gamer, my recent obsession has been “Holdfast: Nations At War,” a massively multiplayer experience in which two teams of players take on the role of a different Napoleonic-era army. Through coordination, command structure, and discipline, the players engage in Black Powder–era warfare. It’s truly a sight to behold.

Upon initial foray into the game, I found that the experience of playing on public servers was, to put it mildly, a complete and utter nightmare. Everyone opted to play the game as a “Rambo '' who attempts to take on an entire army by themselves. No one coordinated in a game that needed coordination to win. Most people spent their time trash talking each other over voice chat. Some chose the classic troll move of blasting meme music over the shared audio channels, making team communication next to impossible. I’m pretty sure The Duke of Wellington, marching to battle against Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo, didn’t instruct his army band to play the chorus of “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley over, and over, and over, and over.

This interesting experience led me to do some deeper looking, which culminated in me joining an online regiment through the community-based app Discord. There I found committed groups of players who had formed different “regiments” with the express intention of playing Holdfast with focus and coordination. 

After some searching, I found a good-looking group, and I was encouraged to sign up for military drills. The drills entailed me getting instructed in the ways of battle by an officer in the regiment. I’d be shown maneuvers and commands, and given tips and tricks on how to survive a battle.

My commanding officer, bedecked in his early-18th-century coat and hat, began running myself and other recruits through movement drills. The immersive experience of playing a Red Coat was slightly interrupted by his thick New Jersey accent and constant use of the word “pal,” but he was good. Really good. He clearly knew his stuff. I’m proud to say that by the end of the hour-long drill, we actually had a rather organized little group. 

And with that we were sent into battle. During the game, constant commands were called out, and we maneuvered around the battlefield quickly and with intention. We lined up to volley fire. We executed “break” commands to dodge incoming cannon fire. There was no chaos. There was no Rick Astley. No one was insulting my mother. No Rambos here. It was refreshing and winsome.

I kept wondering throughout this battle: Why would this group of clearly very young and modern guys want to play a game like this? One would think that we modern people would want the John Wick gaming experience, not the John Quincy Adams experience. 

What I was beginning to suspect is that the narrative of John Wick (the singular one-man army who defeats hordes of assassins), might actually be losing relevance with a subset of people. As much as we love those types of narratives, maybe we’re being drawn to something that more accurately reflects the reality we’re living in: that going it alone in the battlefield of life is unsustainable for long periods of time.

During a voice chat, amidst the collective remembering of the battle, there was such joy taken in the group's effort and contribution. People congratulated each other with passion and sincerity. It was a warm and inviting atmosphere, standing in stark contrast to the toxicity and nastiness I’d experienced in other games. There was a real, rare sense of cohesion.

But something else happened within that conversation which took me aback.

Without missing a beat, my officer opened up about having a chronic, potentially terminal illness. Somehow, amidst the often unsafe landscape that is internet culture, he was being vulnerable. And the response was equally as surprising: Genuine concern and care voiced by other players, and space given for this person to share some of their journey. The officer commented that they were, just recently, in an MRI for the millionth time, a detail that didn’t seem lost on anyone.

The experience has stuck with me. It gave me hope that there are younger generations out there who hunger for a communal experience of life, one that doesn't inherently swallow the individual, but one that simply acknowledges that it’s better to be together. 

I think this is where the Church can step in at a unique time in our American experience. With some people fatigued by the individualistic approach to life, we can not only provide a warm place of safety and community, but we can also do so under the truth of the Gospel. 

When culture cries out in need of something, it’s actually a connection with God at the center of that need. “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee,” proclaims St. Augustine at the start of his Confessions. It’s a timeless human condition that spans all spaces and places, and one that will not change until the Renewed Earth. 

There are a variety of meanings to the word ‘“Holdfast”; one definition is something that roots or holds something securely. The ultimate holdfast is Christ. He roots us and secures us, and through Him we have our life, breath, and being. For a world that is so drowned in chaos, what a gift we have to give to our neighbors in being secured, and in turn offering to grasp someone’s hand who might be getting carried away by life.

Being a peaceful person, shaped by the peace of Christ, can sometimes have less to do with an airy attitude towards life and more to do with being grounded in the midst of a life that seeks to knock us over. 

We have much to think about here, and much to do as communities of Christ followers when it comes to this topic, but the exciting and reassuring thing is that we can do it together. Since day one of the Church, its shape has been a group of people living together in commitment to Christ. That should be a balm, not a sore.

May we learn how to be a church that is a true refuge in life, not just for ourselves, but for others as well. May we hold fast to Christ, and in turn, reach out to share that with others.