Output.i

The Shack - It's a bit rickety.


I know this is ripe (if not, a bit over-ripe) blog-fodder, but i read it, i have some opinions on it, and i think the book is worth a mention at least.

The Writing
Just a few points or comments here:
- As far as the more thrillery aspects of the writing are concerned, it reads not unlike Harlan Coben stuff, except characters stop and pray together more.
- There were bits which were difficult and moving even for someone who isn't a parent, I'm not sure how i'd deal with reading it if i were someone with young children.
- The ending (without giving anything away) is C grade GCSE stuff sadly; predictable, pedestrian and not offering anything of greater weight or depth to the content that had preceded it.
- The forward and the afterword were written as though by one of the minor characters. I think i liked this, but i don't know why, and i don't really know why the author chose to do it - other than it being a free and easy means of character introduction and exposition.

The Content
- The book's main concern is addressing the prevalent and potent question of how a good, powerful and loving God can allow suffering, particularly the suffering of innocents.
- There are two things the book does very well; one is to continually remind readers that suffering isn't something which is alien or second-hand to God, the second is the way it emphasises God's ideal being found in genuine human relationship and community, from a position of freedom. It seems that the main point of the book is best captured in one of the chapter leading quotes. Each chapter is sort of sub-headed or introduced by a quote gathered from somewhere. One of them is along the lines of 'God's chosen primary mode of being as not that of 'Almighty', but rather, as one who desires relationship'.
- The book lives and dies very hard by the doctrine of the trinity, though, interestingly, it does grant God's wisdom a persona of its own - sort of. The characters it ascribes to the person(s) of God aren't anywhere near as daring as the book thinks they are. Jesus is, well, Jesus - except he's got a contemporary pseudo-lumberjack thing going on - Male, 30ish, likes wood but prefers sawdust. The 'Father' is a rotund African-American woman who cooks, feeds and cleans (stereotype broken... stereotype enforced!) and the Holy Spirit is the mystical Eastern one who's a bit vague, whispy and see-through. Not only this, but the three remain in this state throughout, unlike the much cleverer Joan of Arcadia, (US teenage comedy-drama - a bit like if 'The O.C' went to church, about Joan, from the town of Arcadia, to whom God speaks directly) where, when God appears, it's always in surprising and unassuming guises. This has the two-fold effect of having to get to know the character of God rather than the image (idolatry), and forcing the lead character to live as though anyone they come across might be God.
- In this book the thing that scared me most was that it's presented as though God gets to speak for herself. Therefore, great unfathomable mysteries are unravelled by the author who presumes to speak with the voice of God. I'm not saying there isn't a place for such things, after all, where would we be without the prophets (look how we do with them!). It's just that i think a much stronger level of grace, humility and self awareness than the book offers are required when doing this. I'm much more comfortable with Brian McLaren's 'New Kind of Christian' series where things are worked out by means of dialogue between two people. Everything is much less 'definitive' that way.
- Finally, the book presents a perspective on humanity as 'God' sees it, however, even with all the emphasis on human relationship, human sexuality is conspicuously absent from the discussion. Either a) the author dodged it knowing that one way or another a storm was coming that he didn't want to bear b) it's so apparent that heterosexuality is God's way that it needn't be argued again in the book, or c) there's enough alluded to about love and relationship that not excluding gay relationships was enough of a statement, and the readership are welcome to read between the lines as they are able. I suspect, since both 'b)' and 'c)' are possible readings, that 'a)' is the case.

The book is being raved about. On the one hand it's exciting that a piece of theology is able to appear on the radar in popular culture (largely because of the prevalence of the question of suffering and the power of story - oh that the Church might learn to better use story rather than doctrine), on the other, where it's endorsed by Christians whole and without critique, that leaves me uncomfortable. Plus, if Christians really wanted people to read it they should campaign for it to be banned.
In short, it's not the messiah (as some are treating it), in fact it's just a bit meh..