One day last week, I picked you up from school after took one of your AP exams and then I moved over to the passenger seat so you could practice driving. In the midst of being hyper vigilant about your speed, how quickly you stopped, how close you were to the side of the road, and what every single other car on the road was doing, I had a distinct moment of looking over at you and realizing that so much is changing. And we’re only at the start.

Today you turn 16. You are about to wrap up your sophomore year of high school. You’ll take a driver’s license test in just a few weeks. We have three more summers before you go off to college. There are times it seems like yesterday when you were sitting in the living room watching cartoons with a couple of dozen superhero toys. There are times it seems like last week when you were a newborn sleeping in my arms.

The feeling of you being 16 is kind of like being the passenger in the car while you are driving. I have a ton of confidence in you and trust you. And I worry about your lack of experience in a big, sometimes frightening world and whether I have taught you well enough. I am wary of everyone else on the road. I wonder if you are going too fast even though you are going an appropriate speed and I am the one who encouraged you not to go as slow in the first place. It is all very exciting, humbling, frightening, and new.

Christmas 1988. My brother Taylor and I receive the Nintendo Entertainment System packaged with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt and we have been fans ever since. We have grown up with the Japanese company’s gaming systems; the adventures of Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, Link, Zelda, Donkey and Diddy Kong, and more have been a consistent presence in our lives. Even though we are in three different states now as adults, Taylor, my sister Shari, myself, and our kids will get together every so often and play Mario Kart online. We love Nintendo, which is a weird thing to say about a corporation that makes a billion dollars but it is what it is.

With all that said, I loved the Keza MacDonald’s book Super Nintendo: The Game-Changing Company That Unlocked the Power of Play. Not only is it an engaging journey through video game history through the lens of Nintendo’s iconic (and less iconic) franchises, but the book also has a great deal to say about creativity, community, and culture. In fact, it is that last idea that got me thinking about how this video game company can teach the church (or any other organization) even as I am a bit of an outsider to that world presently.

Here is one of two quotes that jumped out at me from the chapter “Splatoon” which looks at how Nintendo continues innovate and create over 40 years into its video game endeavors:

In front of our house there is a branch that is barely hanging on to its tree. The limb is a casualty of the ice storm that tore Nashville earlier this year. As we cleaned up the debris afterwards, we tried to tear it off the tree as we did with a few other broken branches out front. But this branch was more stubborn than the others. So even though it is hanging on by a thread and nearly perpendicular with the ground, it remains as a reminder of a storm.

Now that branch is in bloom. Still hanging on by a thread, still touching the ground but now with flowers and the buds of leaves. It was a surprise at first. We did not really expect that branch to still be alive as it was barely connected to its source. But it is very much alive and now a symbol of beautiful tenacity. Even though it looks askew, I cannot imagine trying to rip that branch from its tree and I don’t think my sons would let me if I wanted to.

Earlier today, you were telling me about how you couldn’t believe that you are now a teenager. I asked you to tell me more about that feeling. You paused and thought and said that you could not quite come up with the words. Not having the words is something that I am experiencing as well. Your mom and I were with you from that first second. We have experienced the passage of thirteen years with you and even I cannot believe that you are now a teenager.

Let me tell you about my favorite part of today. I picked you up from school a little bit early so that we could go see the movie Project Hail Mary. Your mom and your brother were going to meet us at the theater and had a longer drive to get there. So under a beautiful blue sky (You: “God said, ‘Let’s make the weather nice for Liam’s birthday today’ and then Jesus said, ‘I like that kid.’”), you and I sat on a bench outside the movie theater and talked for 20 or 30 minutes. That was it. You just propped your legs up on the bench and leaned your back against me. We chatted about everything and nothing. It was perfect.

Today our family set off on a road trip for Spring Break. We ended up getting a later start than we wanted for a variety of reasons. This put me under some intense time pressure as I tried to make my way from Nashville to Memphis in the driving rain; hoping that I could safely arrive before our first destination closed for the day.

Thankfully, we made it to the National Civil Rights Museum just after 4 PM. When I bought our tickets, the woman at the counter asked me if I knew they closed at 5 o’clock. After I confirmed that I did, she asked if I would rather come back tomorrow. I politely explained that we were going through town and I would like for my sons to see whatever they could. She smiled and waved us along.

We took a whirlwind tour of the museum. But I got to sit in a replica of a Birmingham prison cell and explain to Jim and Liam why the letter Martin Luther King wrote there is so important to me personally and the American church at large. We got to talk about John Lewis, James Lawson, Diane Nash, and other Nashville students who sat at segregated lunch counters and non-violently endured hatred from onlookers. On the anniversary of Bloody Sunday, we watched footage of that terrible and critical day on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.