Escape Room Faith

 Leslie Neese

I’ve been thinking about an image that helps me name how my faith used to feel to me. This morning while chatting with my sister on the phone, I realized I knew exactly what it felt like:

It felt like an escape room.

I believed and was taught that you’re born into the world already needing a Savior. Born a sinner. Not because of something you chose, but because that’s the condition you inherited. And then you’re told there is a way out… but you have to find it.

The clues are there, we’re told:

Scripture.

Sermons.

Missions.

The right prayer, said the exact right way.

Some people seem to piece it together quickly. Others take a bit longer due to misunderstandings, misreading clues or just overwhelm from all the chaos. And some never feel sure they’ve solved it at all.

The stakes, according to the way I saw things, couldn’t be higher. Some escape. Some don’t. And the result of not figuring it out is horrific: the trap door opens and you fall into the flames of a fiery hell to be punished for all of eternity. 

For a long time, I accepted this framework without question. I tried hard. I studied. I prayed and fasted. I believed sincerely and taught others faithfully. And still, there was always a quiet fear in the background: What if I missed something? What if I misunderstood the clues?

Then I started noticing something Jesus said. And He said it more than once:

“I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

He said it to people who were certain they had the system figured out. These were people who believed God primarily cared about right belief, right behavior, and right answers.

And that’s where it began to unravel for me.

Because escape rooms are built on effort and accuracy. They reward those who figure out the clues correctly before time runs out.

Mercy feels different.

Mercy doesn’t depend on intelligence, timing, upbringing, or access to the right information. Mercy meets people where they are.

So I find myself wondering: What did Jesus mean when he said this? Why would He sacrifice Himself after He made it clear that’s not what God desired?

What if He wasn’t offering us better clues to escape? What if He was inviting us to trust that God was never standing outside the room, watching whether or not we could find the truth before time ran out? 

From the perspective I used to believe, God already knew from the beginning whether we’d figure it out or not, so why would He stick us in the room anyway? Was it to watch us squirm? Was it to watch us fail? What on earth did all of this mean?

Jesus didn’t just teach new ideas, He just reframed old ones.

“You’ve heard it said… but I tell you…”

He said this again and again. Not to disregard or throw away Scripture, but to reveal its heart. To show that what people thought they knew about God had been filtered through fear, power, and control.

And then he said something even more powerful:

“If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.”

That line won’t let me go.

Because when I look at Jesus, I don’t see a tyrant.

I don’t see an angry God demanding payment.

I don’t see vengeance or violence or divine impatience.

I see mercy lived out.

I see compassion in the middle of punishment.

I see love refusing to keep a record of wrongs.

And I hear him say, plainly and without apology:

“I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

From where I’m standing now, it seems possible that the problem was never God’s nature, but the way we were taught to see God. Maybe what we once called holiness was fear. Maybe what we once called justice was control. Maybe we mistook severity for strength.

What if Jesus didn’t come to correct God’s anger? What if He came to correct our understanding of who God really is?

One more thing He said that grabs my heart: 

“I came to testify to the truth.”

What if He came to show us the truth that God’s desire was never blood, suffering, or sacrifice? What if God just desired people who love well, show mercy freely, and walk humbly with one another and their God?

If Jesus is the clearest picture we have of God (and He says He is), perhaps we should look at the life of Jesus to figure out who God really is. Our understanding of Him shapes not only our outlook in eternity, but our ability to connect with God, love others, and be present in each moment here and now. 

If I’m honest, I’ve never been very good at escape rooms, and the anxiety I feel when I’m in one is overwhelming as people are scrambling around, yelling out clues and trying hard to beat the clock. It makes me retreat inward, and dulls my ability to enjoy the people I’m in the room with. Our entire goal is escaping, not connection.

I did finally escape the room I was in, though. And I realized, God never stuck me in that room — religion did. 

And now that I’m free, I’m not searching for clues or frantically watching the clock. I’m learning to live the kind of life Jesus pointed to all along: one shaped by mercy, love, and humility.