Mudshot Eyes

“Jesus?” he whispered as his voice choked. “I feel so lost.”
 A hand reached out and squeezed his, and didn’t let go. “I know, Mack. But it’s not true. I am with you and I am not lost.”

William P. Young’s book, The Shack is ultimately about the main character, Mack, discovering that he can find his way only through interaction and friendship with God. In light of all the theological content of the book, this is important because all theology should be all about the potential for relationship with God. Theology is a question of whether or not we can find any meaning or direction for life in a God who is above, beyond, and around all things.

Since The Shack dives into some significant theological themes, it is important to ask whether or not the theological content of the book is trustworthy and faithful to the message of the Bible. Before going into some examples, I’ll say up front that I believe that most of the theology of the book is well in line with a reasonable interpretation of the Scriptures, even if it is presented in an unconventional way. In fact, this unconventional approach is what piqued my interest.

I will miss some important moments and ideas in the book, but stay with me as I review the five themes which stood out to me the most.

The Trinity

“We are not three gods, and we are not talking about one god with three attitudes, like a man who is a husband, father, and worker. I am one God and I am three persons, and each of the three is fully and entirely the one” (p. 101).

The triune nature of God is a prominent theme throughout the story. Mack has interaction with each person of the Trinity, and is often presented with a plural pronoun when you would expect a singular one, and vice versa. When any member of the Trinity is speaking, they often say “we”, harkening back to the Old Testament, where the word for God, elohim, appears 2326 times. Elohim is a plural Hebrew word, a fact that is lost in the English translation, and it is significant that in a large number of times where the OT writers were referring to God, they were using a plural word.

The balance is provided by the fact that the oneness of God is also emphasized. At one point in the story, Mack is talking to Jesus, and he asks, “What about the others?”

“I’m here, I’m always here” was Jesus’ reply.

After reading the conversations about the Trinity, I began to wonder if the author would begin to err on the side of trying too hard to explain the character of God. However, at just the right time, Papa acknowledges the limits of our understanding:

“That you can’t grasp the wonder of my nature is rather a good thing. Who wants to worship a God who can be fully comprehended, eh? Not much mystery in that” (p. 101). 

Is God a Male?

“For me to appear to you as a woman and suggest that you call me Papa is simply to mix metaphors, to help you keep from falling so easily back into your religious conditioning.” (p. 93)

One of the difficult parts of the book for some readers is the appearance of God the Father as an oversized black woman. Isn’t God presented as a Father figure in the Bible?

The Bible is full of father-language for God, and according to Papa’s character, this is for good reason:

“…we knew once the Creation was Broken, true fathering would be much more lacking than mothering. Don’t misunderstand me, both are needed––but an emphasis on fathering is necessary because of the enormity of its absence” (p. 94)

I don’t think there is reason to be offended by the Papa character in the story. Though God never appears as a woman in the Bible, God in his essence isn’t a male or a female. Those are human categories that only applied to God when Jesus entered our existence as a man.

“Free” Will

“Does freedom mean that you are allowed to do whatever you want to do?” (p. 95)

Another important idea in the story is whether or not we are morally free. The dialogue between Mack and Papa contains a lot of powerful stuff about what kind of freedom we can experience as we allow God to work in our lives. God renders powerless the things which actually limit our freedom, such as our genetic heritage, our DNA, the subtle social influences, marketing, or propaganda. “Inside that confluence of multifaceted inhibitors, what is freedom really?” Papa asks.

Only in Christ the Truth can we know what it feels like to be gradually free from all these limiting influences.

Did God Limit Himself?

“…we became fully human. We also chose to embrace all the limitations that this entailed. Even though we have always been present in this created universe, we now became flesh and blood. It would be like this bird, whose nature it is to fly, choosing only to walk and remain grounded. He doesn’t stop being the bird, but it does alter his experience of life significantly.” (p. 99)

The discussions between Mack and God are full of helpful guidance in thinking about what it meant for God to become flesh and blood and walk on this earth. At no point does he attempt to completely explain it, but illustrations like the one above helped me grasp the coming of Jesus more fully.

The Problem of Evil

“This world is not a playground where I keep all my children free from evil. Evil is the chaos of this age that you brought to me, but it will not have the final say. Now it touches everyone that I love, those who follow me and those who don’t” (p. 190).

The central event in the book is a tragedy in Mack’s life which becomes a hinge for his entire life from that point forward. It also drove much of the discussion that he had with God, as Mack was baffled as to why God would not protect his family from experiencing the horrific effects of someone else’s wrongdoing.

This question captured me the most, as it is one I have struggled with a lot. I recently asked a co-worker the classic question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Almost without hesitation, I was given what sounded like a well-rehearsed answer. I was half kidding when I asked it, and didn’t have time at work to delve into such a murky existential question, but I marveled at how flippantly he was able to dismiss such a difficult question.

The dialogue in The Shack makes no such mistake, taking the issue very seriously. Ultimately Mack is led back to the question of love, when Papa says, “If I take away the consequences of people’s choices, I destroy the possibility of love.”

Final Thoughts

My only critical comment of the book is that I wish Young could have somehow presented the otherness of God a little more clearly. I love how he presents God in this story, but if this is God, then I want to be a little more baffled by his greatness. What makes the Gospel so astounding is the fact that this God whose existence can never be tamed or completely explained has chosen to love us and relate to us.

This invitation to be in relationship and this “possibility of love” in the midst of a broken world make up the central theme of The Shack. The story is a wonderful parable of God’s willingness to embrace us regardless of the risk that we would refuse God’s love. And once we see how absolutely pleasant it is to be in relationship with the God who created us, became one of us, and died for us, then we can let our guard down and fully enjoy dialogue and communion with the Lover of our souls, especially when we are deeply wounded by our own sin and the sin of others.

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Your comments are welcome.

(Minor spoilers ahead–depending on your definition of a “spoiler”)

William Young is discovering that word of mouth can be a powerful thing. His new book, The Shack, has sold almost 400,000 copies after starting with only a $200 marketing budget. The book is growing in popularity, mostly due to the fact that it simply makes people want to talk about its content, so readers have sold his book for him, one by one.

Without giving away too much, the story is that the main character, Mack, experiences a horrible tragedy in his family which pushes him further away from an active belief in God. Three and a half years later, Mack receives an unusual invitation from someone named “Papa,” and he leaves for a shack in the middle of nowhere that is tied closely to the tragedy. His journey turns into an opportunity to dialogue with God in a way that changes his life forever.

Before I jump into a specific review of The Shack’s content, here are a couple of general observations.

First, Young’s use of analogy will cause many to jump to conclusions before they hear what is actually being said. The Shack is a parable, so any effort to make a direct translation of the story into a systematic theology is going to turn out badly.

For example, Jesus is presented as a homely middle-eastern man (who knew?) who loves to laugh, splash his feet in the water while sitting on the edge of a boat dock, and build stuff. The Holy Spirit is represented by an ethereal and colorful Asian-looking person who can move about effortlessly, appearing here and there without warning.

The author’s representation of God the Father is the most difficult to get past for those who have a hard time with analogy. Through most of the story, “Papa” is presented as a hefty, happy, and candid black woman who can cook up a mean breakfast. Papa talks theology with Mack using a direct but gentle approach, giving him room to think when Mack can’t quite accept an idea as it’s being presented.

Second, what most appealed to me is that Young brings some heavy theological themes down to earth in The Shack. While you should not expect a flawless writing style, his ability to make difficult theology accessible makes this worth the read.

Here are some of the topics that appear throughout the story:

- Why is God presented as Father in the Bible?

- Do we have a morally free will? If so, what does that mean?

- How much can we understand of the nature of God?

- Did God limit himself in the Incarnation?

- How can I understand the triune nature of God?

- Do all roads lead to God?

- Will God protect us from experiencing the effects of evils that we didn’t cause?

In part 2 of this review, I’ll give some examples to show how he addresses some of these things, and why some people are criticizing and others are lauding this compelling and controversial book.

Ah, yes… the Holy Bible. The very mention of it stirs up a wide variety of responses. Some think of archaic language and dust-covered black leather, a book for another time. It’s an irrelevant set of religious writings that have some good advice, but no significant value for today.

Others remember their Sunday School classes from their younger days, growing up in church.  Memories involve the great stories of the Bible such as David versus Goliath, Noah’s Ark, and the life of Jesus.

What rarely comes to mind are the stories of betrayal, sex, violence, and intrigue.  It’s a dynamic book, “inspired by God,” as 2 Timothy says.  The Greek word for inspired is theopneustos, or “God-breathed.” Depending on our view of God’s character, it may be surprising that such scandalous topics are breathed-out from God. Doesn’t God want us to avoid stories that involve sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll? Apparently not.

At no point in the Bible do we ever find that a topic is being avoided. No issue is off-limits. The reason? Nothing is off-limits to a God who refuses to be separated from the real experiences and emotions of life.  Whether it be an addiction, strain in a relationship, or worry over a big decision, God is habitually getting his hands dirty to plant transformation and hope within our mess. The first four books of the New Testament chronicle this very characteristic, seen in the life of Jesus.  Those stories were about real people with complex problems who were touched by a loving, interested Savior.

Now that I think of it that way, it’s nice to know that I could have been a Bible story, too.

“As I ‘roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart,’ all my lack was laid before you.”
- Augustine, from The Confessions of Augustine

When I think of the great saints of early church history, I rarely imagine a person who was perplexed with the meaning of life. The tendency is to assume that the great saints throughout time were spouting brilliant answers from the time they were kids. The life of Saint Augustine clashes with that stereotype.

Augustine committed his life to Christ after a long road of searching. Through the teachings of the Bishop of Milan, Ambrose, Augustine began to appreciate and understand Christianity, which led to his dramatic conversion in 386.

Before reaching this pivotal moment in his life, Augustine spent his younger years on sensual pleasures, while also developing a thirst for wisdom and truth. He dove into philosophy and an intense study of rhetoric, which sharpened his reasoning abilities. The one problem that continually disturbed him is also one that has plagued me ever since I began to think for myself: the problem of moral evil. Why would a good God allow evil into the good world he created?

Augustine’s willingness to dive head first into this difficult question has always inspired me to never turn from the things I can’t completely explain or understand. Along with the courage that I discovered through Augustine’s journey, I have also found faith. Consider these two passages from Confessions:

For if [God made me], how is it I will to do evil and bypass the good, and so earn punishment for myself? Who gave me this will? Who planted this seed of bitterness in me when all I am is what God made me, and he is Sweetness itself?

These questions are followed by more of the same, where he questions how evil could possibly exist if God is perfectly good and can prevent it. Then, without finding a definite answer that completely satisfied his questioning, he speaks of the role of faith in this philosophical struggle:

Yet in my heart I still clung to faith in Christ our Lord and Savior, as the church trained me to do. I was not clear on many points and was unsound on others, but my mind didn’t entirely let faith go; rather, I kept drinking in more and more day by day.**

This increasing consumption of faith has become my answer to the most vexing theological questions. There are plenty of philosophers who can offer an explanation for the problem of evil that falls just shy of satisfying the difficulty. However, my greatest need is not for explanation, even though there is some benefit to that attempt. My greatest need is to yield: to God’s embrace, to God’s wisdom, and to God’s sufficiency.

**I highly recommend reading Augustine’s Confessions, especially the out-of-print translation by Sherwood E. Writ from which the above quotes came. It’s very readable, and his use of language brings out a very personal feel that was probably obvious to the original readers in Latin. Here’s a link to a used copy I found on at Amazon.

History is crucial for understanding not only the life of Jesus, but also the entire biblical message. A good deal of the Old Testament is historical narrative. The Bible tells the story of God’s revelation in the life and history of the people of God. Without that story, it is impossible to know that revelation.

- from The Story of Christianity, by Justo L. González

The history of the church isn’t much different than our lives. Its story is made up of people who regularly made horrible mistakes, got depressed, doubted God, and found every way under the sun to misrepresent the love of God. However, these same people had big dreams and they discovered redemption through their frailty and faith as they met Christ.

We have a lot in common with those who have gone before us.

Over the next few posts, I’m going to highlight five interesting and influential Christian thinkers from throughout the history of the church. This is not intended to be a list of the 5 most influential people. I have simply chosen to highlight five persons in church history who have intrigued me and inspired me:

- Saint Augustine
- Saint Anselm
- Thomas Aquinas
- Martin Luther
- Saint Teresa of Avila

The Mighty One, God the LORD,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to its setting.
~ Psalm 50:1

Most people remember Jonah as the one who was swallowed by a whale and then burped up like a bad yam. But there is a fascinating scene at the end of the story where Jonah finds a nice spot to rest for a while under the shade of a tree, protected from the hot sun. Overnight, God decides to send a worm to bore into its trunk and cause it to wither by morning.

This left Jonah in the sweltering heat, cooking his temperament to the boiling point. I CAN RELATE. In the lower right hand corner of my computer screen I have the current forecast: “Tue: 98° F”, followed by the ominous red thermometer icon. Sorry for being such a wuss, but I hate this weather! Typically, have glowing reviews of nature’s ability to point us to the glory and character of God, but I have to say that I struggle with that when we are knocking on the 100-degree mark.

However, God’s words to Jonah bring me back to center:

The sun came up and God sent a hot, blistering wind from the east. The sun beat down on Jonah’s head and he started to faint. He prayed to die: “I’m better off dead!”

Then God said to Jonah, “What right do you have to get angry about this shade tree?”

Jonah said, “Plenty of right. It’s made me angry enough to die!”

GOD said, “What’s this? How is it that you can change your feelings from pleasure to anger overnight about a mere shade tree that you did nothing to get? You neither planted nor watered it. It grew up one night and died the next night.”

Even though it’s not the main point of this passage, I am reminded that God is the One who lit the fire of the sun when it first came into being. It is a picture of God’s untamed power, even when it is hot as hell (perhaps especially then).

Before I run and hide into my air conditioned office tomorrow, I’m going to try and pause my grumblings to see God’s character through the sweat. It may be just the relief I need from the heat.

“We didn’t feel the nature of the atonement was one of those things you could agree to disagree over.”

- Pod Bhogal
Universities and Colleges Christian Fellowship (UCCF)

What Pod is really saying is this: people couldn’t possibly view the atonement in any other way than the way HE and his group sees it.

It is sad that we have so much effort in the church to squelch theological conversation.

Do you remember the song from Sunday School about the story of Zacchaeus? It went something like this…

Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he
He climbed up in the sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see

What would it do to your faith to find out that Zacceaus was not actually WEE little, but was just your average short man? Or that Zacchaeus was not in the tree trying to see the Lord Jesus, as the song reports, but was actually trying to retrieve a frisbee, but then heard his name being called by the Son of God?

When I attended seminary, one of the discussions we used to have was about whether or not the Bible was inerrant, or infallible. In other words, is it possible that there are factual “errors” in the Bible when it refers to times, places, peoples, and events? No other topic stirred up more emotion than this one.

I think these discussions miss the point. I just started reading Introduction to the Old Testament by Walter Brueggemann in which he explains that modern tests of reliability are wrongheaded when it comes to the Bible, because it “asks of the texts what they do not intend to deliver.” The Bible is not primarily a book of history or science facts, even though it contains historically and scientifically verifiable information. The Bible “is a world of meaning that has as its key character YHWH, the God of Israel, who operates in the narratives and songs of Israel that are taken as reliable renderings of reality.”

The Bible never fails to do exactly what it intends: to deliver the story of God’s redemptive work within humanity, thus bringing people into relationship with Him.

I use the word “infallible” occasionally to describe the Scriptures, but I would prefer to use the phrase that the Bible uses to describe itself: breathed-out by God.

2 Timothy 3:16 says that “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.” Why did it say “breathed-out by God,” and not “spoken” by God? Breath implies vitality, life, and intimacy. The Bible was not dictated or spoken to the writers from afar, leaving them only to put the words down on paper. They recorded the story of their lives using their imagination and memory, within the context of a relationship with God. The life story of humanity is wrapped up in the life of God on the pages of Scripture.

I’ve never read a book of facts that felt alive, that pierced and divided my heart, and that brought me into the intentions and will of the author. It’s the breath of God which differentiates the Bible from other books. And when we argue about dates, times, distances, names, and places, we are missing the voice of God calling us into closer relationship with him.

Jesus shared the meaning of the Kingdom by using parables. Ever wonder why Jesus didn’t just come out and say it? Why hide the message in stories that sometimes leave us with more questions than answers?

McLaren’s insight into Jesus’ parables helps those of us who have wished that Jesus would have just come out and said what he meant. The benefit of a parable, he says, is that they “entice their hearers into new territory.” He explains further:

With a clear and easy explanation, hearers can listen and achieve understanding and then go on their way, independent of the teacher. But when a parable confounds them, it invites them to ask questions, so they continue to depend on the teacher himself, not just their independent understanding of his words (pg. 45-46).

One of the most important points of this book is that the message of Jesus is hidden, not only in his parables, but also within those of us who follow him, no matter our denominational or political background. It can be easy to assume that my perspective is the only one in which the truth can be found. However, the gospel is hidden in all who are being transformed by the Spirit, even Democrats, Republicans, Catholics, Southern Baptists and Episcopals; each one of us a living parable, full of God’s message of transformation.

So Jesus told about his message with parables, demonstrated it with miracles, and then validated it with his death and resurrection. Is it any wonder that he described discipleship as a narrow, difficult way? I can’t calculate or figure out Jesus’ message completely, but once I accept it, I am brought close to him as my Teacher, my Friend, and my Lord.

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Though it is a little longer than I think was necessary, I recommend The Secret Message of Jesus. It will challenge your assumptions and put the gospel close in front of you for a very personal examination, leaving you with a desire to let Jesus initiate radical change in your everyday life.

Use this link to buy it at Amazon.com.

The following is what I am calling the take-home from the book. This doesn’t cover his every point, but these are the things that hit home the most with me.

It sounds obvious to say it, but the message of Jesus was revolutionary in every conceivable way. Why?

First, it presented not just a potential future reality, but a present reality. The gospel was good news for the first hearers because it meant a new way of living, immediately. For those who followed Jesus, ideas about God’s radical new kingdom were quickly turned into decisions that altered the way they did things, not just the way they thought about things. If it was an immediate message for them, then it is most certainly the same for us. Jesus’ message invites us to be transformed now, not just in the someday hereafter.

Second, it was inclusive of people who had not yet received it, a point made obvious by the fact that Jesus often ate dinner and interacted with prostitutes, social outcasts, and other “sinners.” What this means for me is that I am looking at people differently. I’m exploring my social-isms, and have found that they are many. For example, Jesus’ message of inclusion means that God may choose to use me to show the gospel to the segment of society that I loathe the most, whoever that may be. This will require a transformation within me that only God can accomplish (with my participation, of course).

Finally, the social and political backdrop of the gospels reveals that Jesus’ intended not only personal implications, but also implications for our social and political decisions. McLaren says it well in this passage from chapter 2:

“. . . This carpenter’s son from Galilee challenges every existing political movement to a radical rethinking and dares everyone to imagine and consider his revolutionary alternative.” That alternative is the kingdom of God, and “if you’re part of this kingdom, you won’t be blindly patriotic and compliant, . . . instead you’ll be willing to confront injustice, even at the cost of your life. You won’t nestle snugly into the status quo, but you’ll seek to undermine the way things are to welcome the way things could and should be” (p. 17-18).

Secret Message placed the message of Jesus uncomfortably close to my real life. I was reminded again that the gospel isn’t a museum where we look at what is presented and say “ooo” and “ahhh.” Instead, it is a living word, moving through our veins to transform us.

(Part 3 of 3 coming on Sunday…)