Monopoly, the most played commercial board game in the world (according to the Guinness Book of World Records), is probably the last game I ever wanted to play.

But late last night at 2:00am in the middle of no-where Wisconsin at the height of intense peer pressure from the only other people awake, I gave in and played.

It was the first time I had really played the game (I used to be an avid Monopoly Junior fan, far from the real deal). Although my heart wasn’t into it, I quickly learned the rules by which these bad boys played: every man for himself, afford no mercy, and the only way to get ahead is by cunning deception. For example, if a player is busy taking a sip of his water and not paying attention and you land on his property, it is perfectly acceptable to not pay and quickly hand the dice over to the next player.

At the beginning of the three or so hour ordeal, I really didn’t care. “The only exciting part of this game is when I pass ‘GO.’” In consequence of my apathy, I played honestly and never once cheated another player of his money. I figured the quicker I lost my small fortune, the sooner I could sleep. About a third of the way through the game, however, I became the first to obtain a monopoly (New York Ave, Tennessee Ave, & St. James Place, if any one’s interested), and from that moment on, the dice always rolled in my favor. In short, the game ended with me having a complete monopoly of the entire board, not to mention several hotels on each property.

Not too shabby for a beginner, eh?

Somewhere in that time frame, someone asked me the key question,”Now do you think it’s exciting?” I nonchalantly responded with a ‘no,’ but when I examined myself at the time, I knew inside I was pretty darn excited. I was doing ridiculously well, and I had enough money to buy me the freedom to do anything and everything I wanted.

And I did. I bought everyone into bankruptcy. And I won.

And I realized how far I had come: from a completely apathetic and innocent “fine-I’ll-play-if-you-insist” kind of person to a greedy, merciless, girl donning a sly grin.

There are two ways to look at this:

#1. Those who deal with honesty and integrity will always win in the end. True, perhaps, but I prefer to focus on

#2. Give a mouse a cookie, and he will ask for a glass of milk (I hope everyone read that book sometime in their childhood).

God, in his time, chooses to bless each of us with something during different parts of our life. For some, it is with intellect, others with money, and still others with athletic talent, leadership skills, creative knack, a great many friends, musical genius, a good sense of humor, etcetera. Whatever it may be and whenever it may be, the majority of us tend to take these blessings and ask for more and when we receive more, ask for even more. And what’s worse, we begin to abuse it, and our hearts seem to completely change. It’s almost sick to think about: we have the ability to turn the most precious and sacred gifts into the most evil. God blesses and turns a humble nobody into a talented worship leader who turns him/herself into a self-praising music player. God blesses and turns a humble nobody into a wealthy money roller who turns him/herself into someone who satisfies the self through material and worldly gain. And although many times we don’t mean to, it just kind of happens.

I didn’t mean to win Monopoly, I didn’t mean to enjoy watching everyone deplete their accounts while I kept gaining, it just kind of happened.

“It just kind of happens,” what a bad, bad excuse.

I typically refrain from bragging (mostly because there honestly is nothing to brag about), but… I ended school and started summer way back on April 23rd. Almost a full month ago! On the opposite end of the spectrum, there exist an unfortunate many who don’t get out until mid-June. I visited several of that kind last week at Northwestern. (Please forgive me for my lack of sensitivity and empathy).

If it were feasible and time not a constraint, a new hobby I would start would be to experience what a ‘typical day in the life of _________’ is like.

As we were following one my friends around, we eventually made our way over to one of the central locations on campus, where it’s always bustling with activity. In the midst of it, a table was set up that was devoted to raising funds for the recent Myanmar cyclone victims, a terrible event that has been on the forefront of news stories as well as the agendas of humanitarian organizations. In response, my friend’s Christian fellowship had enlisted its members to take shifts to sit at that table with a cardboard collection box and periodically shout out “HELP THE MYANMAR VICTIMS, DONATE MONEY” in an attempt to sell the cause to classmates and professors.

For the forty-five minutes we sat with them and joined in on the effort, I made this one observation (in retrospect): none of the five of us behind the table donated a single penny. What does this say? It says that the ones trying to sell the cause didn’t believe in the cause themselves.

I knew I had money in my pocket. I knew Melanie had money. I knew my friend had money. I knew the other two girls did, too, because somewhere in that time frame they bought themselves some pizza. And additionally from the lack of energy and conviction and compassion in any of our voices, I knew none of us really cared. And I am sure many who only gave us a glance noticed.

Fortunately for the cyclone victims, many on campus enthusiastically and with genuine compassion donated despite our poor efforts. Some even asked if there was more they could do.

Let this be both an admonishment and encouragement to all who profess that they believe in the Good News of Jesus Christ and the new life that results from God’s amazing grace. The admonishment: if all we do is show up at the table when obliged to and periodically shout out our message but mostly care about the pizza or the side conversation, we are marring that message. We need to invest in it ourselves; God calls for a generation who truly believe in the cause themselves, not just table sitters (or pew warmers, for that matter). Like I wrote about in my previous post (‘Art i choke’), it’s all about the heart. Know that if you don’t really care, others will take note. The encouragement: fortunately for mankind, God is able to draw people to himself and to his love story despite our poor efforts. Good thing none of us are capable of screwing that up.

I honesty cannot recall the last time my family had so much fun together at the dinner table.

And of all things, the conversation centered around artichokes – yes – that vegetable that resembles an over-sized brussel sprout.

Earlier today, my mom had announced that she was going to buy artichoke for dinner, prompted by its sale at the grocery store and the fact that she had never ventured to cook it before. Several hours later, the six of us sat at the dining table staring skeptically at the foreign green things.

We listened as Melanie explained the ‘art’ of eating one, her description being a culmination of the information and tips she acquired from wikipedia, artichokes.org, and other sites.

1) Rip off a leaf.

2) Gently clamp your teeth on the leaf.

3) Slide your teeth across the leaf to scrape off artichoke stuff.

If you have not yet, I recommend you try out this vegetable; it’s quite an experience. But as we were quick to find out, it is an experience that amounts to almost nothing. For all the work you put into it, you end up with tasteless flakes of so-called ‘food’ in your mouth. It’s no wonder we’ve never had it before, nobody raves about it, and the typical menu survives without it.

My dad kept suggesting we try and ask for a refund at the grocery store.

My older brother, Timmy, kept commenting on the artichoke’s elusive quality.

“Do you think it’d be better if I just ran my teeth along my plate?”

My mom kept eating it, hoping that after the fiftieth leaf, she’d taste something.

My younger brother, Shelton, kept his focus on the steak while we were all distracted.

Melanie kept throwing random artichoke facts around and quoting her friend Wiki.

And we just laughed. (If it’s not funny, you had to have been there…)

However, all is not lost. Apparently the gem of this green lies in the center, and the real delicacy is the ‘artichoke heart,’ as it is called. You dig through the leaves of vegetable until all that remains is the heart, only the size of your pinky finger. This little thing is the only reason why it’s still harvested.

Now, I could relate this to how we people are like artichokes and we need to not just look at the shallow outside but rather what counts is the inside and… but I can already start to imagine my audience (or lack thereof) yawn and mutter “I knew that was coming.”

No, instead I just want to say that now that I am home and am looking back on the year, it really has been a great one. As I have been learning ever since coming to Pittsburgh and as Gordon keeps reminding us in Sunday school, it’s all about the heart. Sounds simple, and it is, but if there is one thing God has been challenging me with during my college years, this is it.

Thanks artichoke,

Thanks God.