You know by now I love a good cooperative board game. A group of us played Robinson Crusoe recently and a really striking dynamic emerged. 

The game is fully cooperative, with each player having some unique skills to contribute to the group’s survival. Each player also has a limit to how much they can do on any given turn. The mechanic that stood out to me this time was how we could choose to guarantee success.

Some risk was associated with anything we wanted to accomplish in the game. Success was not a sure thing. We could spread ourselves thin and try to achieve a lot in a given round, but that could also mean wasted effort that cost us a lot and rewarded us not at all. 

Unless two people worked on the same task. If two people committed to the same goal in a round, success was automatic. It meant that we might get less accomplished, but we were guaranteed to succeed at the things that mattered most. 

In this particular game, one player was quite willing to take risks. Taking on a task by themselves and rolling the dice wasn’t a daunting prospect. Another player, though, was very risk averse. They didn’t want to attempt something and fail. Or worse, cost the group something in the process. 

So, an interesting dynamic arose. The risk averse player would say, I think we need to do this, but I’m worried about the outcome. And another player would offer, I’ll help with that, guaranteeing a risk-free success. With remaining actions, the player who welcomed a little bit of risk could try some things on their own. And with careful planning and shared priorities, we won the game together.

I wonder if we are so transparent in other relationships about our risk aversion or our willingness to assist. Do we feel completely comfortable saying, I think this thing might be important, but I’m scared to take it on all by myself, trusting that someone else will offer to go with us? How comfortable do we feel listening deeply to the priorities of a group and volunteering to take a risk that could contribute to the fulfillment of the group’s vision?

It’s easier in a board game, of course. There’s so much less to lose. And yet, for some people, the risk still feels significant. Maybe in our faith community we make it easier for one another to say, this feels important, and it also feels scary. Our willingness to companion one another may not guarantee success, but it might alleviate the scariness of taking important steps. 

And in the end, maybe we don’t really need guaranteed success as much as we need the assurance that we aren’t on our own. When we can take purposeful risks together, maybe success is ultimately measured in how our bonds to one another are strengthened.