The Shack

Sometimes when I’m walking to work, I do a bad thing. I cut across the grass of a student apartment complex, reasoning that the path is already there, and no doubt always will be. It’s a well-trodden path. Hard as stone. Nothing grows there and even when it rains, the dirt is so hard that the water just rolls off.

That’s what happens when the same path is taken again and again. There’s no avoiding it. It’s true in nature, and it’s true in people. A song that once thrilled us falls flat. We can say something by rote that once took great courage and conviction. We can look upon stunning beauty and yawn. Words that should inspire like truth, love, hope, and joy become meaningless from overuse. We ourselves become dull, inoculated, impervious.

William P. Young understands that. In The Shack, he goes to great lengths to avoid the beaten path in his effort to tell the story of the three-person God and their love for the world. I won’t spoil the story any more than World Magazine did in revealing that his God figure is a hearty black woman who cooks up greens. And instead of, “God so loved the world”, or even, “God loves you, Willie”, we read, “Papa is very fond of you.”

“Fond of you.” It’s quaint. It’s personal. Granted, word for word it’s not as strong a concept as “God loves you”, and no doubt wouldn’t stand up well under theological scrutiny. But because it’s different, because it’s not used very much, it really can say more, especially to those who’ve heard it their entire lives, even preached it. It can penetrate, cut through, make you question if you really, truly understand God’s regard for you.

Since reading The Shack, I’ve found myself thinking, “Maybe He really is quite fond of me.” And not just way up there in Heaven with arms folded waiting for me to get my act together and really do something for Him.

This sentiment goes well with Isaiah 40, “He gathers the lambs in His arm, and holds them close.” And reminds me of the picture I love of John leaning his head against Jesus’ breast. So warm, so alive, so human.

I'm tired of my worn-down soul. I want to be alive to Him, and He to me. I want to leave the dusty bunker of religion and return to the wild meadow with a thousand delights, walking with Him in the cool of the day.