Drifting, unplugging the Xbox, and the home team

I grew up playing all types of video games. I think I told you that already, so sorry for the redundancy. Anyway, one of the genres that kept me glued to the screen was racing games. I liked being able to drive a lot of different cars…and drive them fast. Over time, Gran Turismo 3 on the PS2 won first place in my heart.

As game developers improved racing games, one of the most significant features for me and eventually our son was the ability to drift. Taking a corner at high speed, pulling on the e-brake, and effortlessly and smoothly gliding (aka drifting) around a corner while not losing much speed was magical. The more we worked at it, the better we became. And when we hit it just right, we could enter the perfect drift. Time stood still, angels were singing, and it was glorious.

But drifting doesn’t just happen in video games. It happens in relationships and can also be seen in all types of organizations. 

Now, you’ve probably experienced this scenario once or twice: your gamer disappears into their room, puts the headset on, and emerges only for snacks and Wi-Fi issues. You knock on the door and hear muffled voices, but can’t quite figure out what is happening in there. It feels like the gaming world has claimed your child, and you’re left asking yourself, “Am I losing my connection with my kid?” Are video games causing my kid to drift away from the family?

First, take a deep breath. This isn’t a sign that your relationship is wrecked. In fact, it’s a perfect opportunity to build an even stronger connection if you play your cards right (pun intended).

Note that what you are experiencing is not rebellion. It’s design. Video games are engineered to grab attention. They reward persistence, create belonging, and give a sense of achievement. For kids, gaming can feel like the one place they’re understood and valued. The problem? That sense of belonging can come at the expense of real-life family bonds. If we let it.

When you only see gaming as a threat or waste of time, you unintentionally make the console the “safe space” and yourself the enemy. That pushes your player further away.

The goal isn’t to fight gaming. The goal is to fight disconnection.

Here’s the truth: your child doesn’t need you to unplug their Xbox. They need you to plug into their world. When you show up in their digital space, you earn a voice in their real-life one. Here are a few practical ways to make that happen:

• Ask about their game. Please, please do not start with the “Are you still playing that thing?” energy. But rather enter in with the “What’s your favorite part about this game?” or “Show me the coolest thing you’ve built.” type of curiosity. And, if you’re brave, pick up a controller or Joy Con and join in. Even if you lose epically, you win relationally. A win is still a win.
• Instead of seeing gaming as competition for family time, make it a bridge. Schedule a “Family Game Night,” and yes, video games count! Pick something multiplayer that everyone can enjoy (Mario Kart, anyone?). When laughter and inside jokes happen around a screen instead of away from one, you’ve flipped the script and changed the game. 
• Pro tip: if you can master the drift in Mario Kart, you’ll see more first place finishes.
• When your child is gaming, resist the urge to storm in with “You’ve been on that thing for hours!” Instead, wait for a good moment to talk and then listen. Ask about their online friends. Celebrate their wins the way you would a soccer goal. You don’t need to go out and get pom-poms (cringe), but pulling up a chair to spectate a Fortnite match is totally acceptable. This communicates, “I value what matters to you.” 
• Pro tip: If you request to spectate Fortnite Blitz Royale, not only will you sound like you know what you’re talking about, but you won’t have to sit through a full 20+ minute match. 
• Instead of declaring time limits from the parental ivory palace, talk it through: “Hey, I want to make sure we have time as a family and you have time for gaming. How can we balance both?” When kids help create the plan, they’re more likely to respect both it and you.

This isn’t just about managing screen time. It’s about reminding your kids that family is their first team, first community, and first safe space.

When gaming becomes the only place they feel connected, they’ll drift. But when home is a place of laughter, grace, and honest conversation, you’ll be amazed how quickly they come back. And it won’t be because you forced them. It will be because they want to.

Proverbs 22:6 says, “Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.”

We often hear this verse and think it’s about giving our kids a moral compass. That’s true, but it’s so much bigger than that. Notice what it says: start them off on the way. We’re not instructed to force them onto the way or drag them kicking and screaming. Starting them off implies walking with them, guiding them, and showing the way by example.

I missed this. Really missed this. I wanted so much for our son to be healthy and well-rounded. So much so that I compromised our relationship. Obedience was more important than relationship to me at that time. And if it wasn’t for one special moment, I would have lost him. And that would have been more devastating than being Brazilled in a Rocket League World Championship tournament.

In the context of gaming, that means we can’t just tell our kids, “Relationships matter more than screens.” We have to show them by creating meaningful connection at home. When we model grace in conversations, when we invite them into shared experiences, even digital ones, we’re laying a foundation they’ll remember long after the controller is set down.

The beauty of this verse is the promise: “and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” That doesn’t mean they won’t wander or make mistakes (spoiler alert: they will, they’re human). It means that the patterns of love, connection, and prioritizing people over pixels become part of who they are.

When you invest in relational closeness now, even if that means sitting through a one-hour Minecraft build session, you’re building something eternal: the value of family and the understanding that relationships always come first.

So go ahead, pull up a chair, grab a controller, and remind your kids: No game is better than the team we’ve got right here at home.

Make the connection:

How might we use gaming to build meaningful relationships with our players to keep them from drifting away from us?

Connecting gamers • Building communities • Creating champions