The Shack

For years, I have resisted the advice of those closest to me to write a book. I still think that they should thank me for this spot of self-discipline, but I know that they would probably not agree. For years, as I continued working through various teaching opportunities and responsibilities, it was my intention to put together a work of quality in the field of theology or Christian philosophy. But this takes time, years of crouching in endless libraries and wearying one’s eyes in ample research, and I always felt (in spite of the insistence of some to the contrary) that I had really only begun. But perhaps in some small measure like Socrates, the more I gained in wisdom — assuming that is, in fact, what I have gained and not something else altogether — the less prepared I felt myself to be. The questions were growing larger and the answers more complicated and I had forgotten somewhere along the way what it was like not to be me, which makes it difficult to write for those at a very different level than I am comfortable with.

For various reasons both pragmatic and ideological, my thoughts turned more and more to the dialogue as the best medium for expressing my ideas. It is especially so these days, given the way I approach the nature and the teaching of logic and theology. Of course, it was not a surprising step from this into the realm of serious fiction and, as I sit here, I have on my desktop the outlines of a curious and subtly allegorical novel which lends a face to my philosophy. As my father always taught me, good illustration is a fundamental of good teaching (or preaching), and I have only recently absorbed the immensities of this lesson.

Nevertheless, I have had for as long as I can remember something of a love-hate relationship with fiction. I rarely discover any prize examples of it these days and doubted for quite some time that I could produce it myself. I still wonder about this, but wonder I suppose is only the beginning of real learning. At some point, there has to come the great test. After weighing it carefully, I have decided that this shall be mine.

As part of my preparations, I chose to read both from the classic and the immensely popular, which of course are not at all necessarily the same thing. One contribution to the latter category which has recently drawn a good deal of attention while upsetting the pop-apologetical dog dish was an apparent Conversations with God spin-off entitled simply, The Shack. When I first heard of this novel in passing, I thought it had been written by Stephen King. It probably would have turned out better if it had. For those of you who know my opinion of Stephen King, that should not fill you with a longing to purchase this book.

To be fair, I do think that some of the critics of The Shack have taken great strides in order to miss the point of the author, even while engaging his woeful attempts at representing a dialogue with someone he imagined was very much like Yahweh. Those who support Mr. Young should admit that it is, after all, inevitable that an author attempting to represent our LORD in these novel contexts must come short of the mark by an incalculable measure. They simply play the hypocrite when they make the defense that this is unavoidable while, in the same breath, appealing to us to recognize that an inescapably demeaning caricature was still extremely helpful in understanding the heart and character of GOD. If we agree that it is utterly hopeless to adequately pen the script for GOD in conversation, then it follows obviously that anyone who tries to do so cannot have succeeded at enlightening us about who He really is.

Having said this, no matter what the merits of a book might otherwise possess, no one can object to the transparent fact that a great deal of criticism is already deserved at the outset of so presumptuous an undertaking. That’s just the nature of the beast. However, we can at least ask whether the author of this book, in imagining both sides of a dialogue with GOD, tried to restrain himself by the description that our LORD already gave of Himself in His Word. And the simple answer to that question is: only negligibly at best.

Paul Young (he prefers Paul to William) would be the first, no doubt, to admit that he is no theologian. However, he has left the responsibility to those of us who adore our Christ to observe that he is not even a poor student of theology. He is more of an anti-theologian. I get the feeling that this would be for him a perfectly acceptable description. He does after all, with no small sense of irony, take the trouble to instruct his readers through the mouths of the various characters, some of dubious gender, meant to represent members of the Godhead, that God would rather we didn’t think of him according to the stale stereotypes of theological scholarship.  Young works hard to get the reader to think outside the usual box and within the one he has prepared instead.  I was not altogether unwilling to do this with him at first, but after realizing how far he wanted me to go, after the irreverance and seriously false doctrine, after watching the buddy Jesus invite the main character for a jaunt across the surface of a lake for fun and express his admiration for a large and irredescent trout that Jesus confesses he has been doing his best to catch but probably never will bag so clever an animal, I had to leave Mr. Young to relish the night fantastic alone.

In terms of doctrine, Youngs’ God wanted us all to come to grips with the fact that God is not even interested in converting people to Christianity (or to any religion, for that matter).  Why should he when he has followers from all religious backgrounds?  We also learn that none of us are “lost” and that He (or She) has never desired anything from us save that we be fulfilled and fully human. Furthermore, the intriguing statistic is revealed that the word “responsibility” is not actually to be found anywhere in the Bible (at least in the KJV).  I shall leave the reader to reason out why that would be important.  Instead, God is “especially fond” of every human being (and all the diverse products of their creativity) to the same degree and is not upset with anyone but wants simply to have a renewed relationship with each of His (or Her) “children.” There seems to be no hell because everyone, no matter how drunk and sadistically violent they were in this life, is precious and heaven-bound. God just bides His (or Her) time and laughs away every irreverence aimed in His (or Her) direction while remaining playfully adept at self-deprecating humor between the members of the Godhead.  Yes, God enjoys making fun of himself once in a while, if you can believe it.

To anyone the least bit interested in faithfulness to Christ, this will not sit well in their stomach and they will not idly play along at Young’s game of mocking the Holy One of Israel. Perhaps it is not so very shocking, though it remains deeply disturbing, that this has not been the response the book has received from the majority of those professing to be “Christian.”  Rather, they say it has been to them an “inspiration” and an answer to prayer, that it has taught them to appreciate the real nature of the Trinity and guided them to a greater peace with God.  Many popular “Christian” authors have rushed to endorse a continual best-seller.

In the midst of all this fervor, I prayerfully hope, with every ounce of sincerity within me, that they would from now on take Young’s apparent advice and drop the religious nomenclature they’ve obviously outgrown.  I think that kind of honesty, far more than this book, would do the rest of us a great deal of good.