There are several books on my mind that I’d like to talk about–Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright (though I haven’t yet finished it–there’s so much in there that I may have to take it in chunks), and The Shack by William P. Young. 

I read this several weeks ago and have been meaning to blog about it. I’ve made a habit of not saying much about books I don’t like because my parents taught me that if you can’t say anything nice about someone to not say anything at all, but I think here it’s worth looking at some of the strengths and weaknesses.

Couple of thoughts: someone told me that the book wasn’t published because it pushed some theology. After reading the first couple of pages, I suspected that it was more because of the quality of writing or lack thereof. It was very blah and kept me distant from the characters and the story itself until about a third (maybe more) of the way into it. The author wanted to get a lot of information out but doesn’t let us enter into that information. In other words, background informational dumping for a good bit. I think it would’ve been better had he weaved some of this background in throughout rather than unloading it all in the beginning. Or, if he chose to start where he did, to tell it as a story–show, in other words, rather than tell.

Which brings up the question: if someone has a good message, is it okay to skip over the form?

Of course, I think the answer to that is a resounding no! Writing is art. The message is important, but let’s not get lazy. Instead of taking the time and working to improve his writing, the author created his own channels. The writing gets better once Mack gets to the Shack (oy–did I just say that in rhyme?). The only reason I made it past the first few pages was because I was reading it for a friend. Would you build a haphazard house and then live in it? Preach a thrown-together sermon and expect others to respond? Invent a product that works only half the time and expect others to buy it?

I don’t know the author’s background, but he comes across as a preacher, and the book itself sounds like an extended sermon illustration. Genre-wise, I suppose it would fit into allegory or apologetical fiction, neither of which are my favorites. I’m not into overt metaphors in fiction. I want to work at them, think about them, discover them.

Regarding the message and theology: the author, I believe, does an excellent job with what he intends to do–deal with the question of evil and suffering balanced with God’s power and love. He approaches it differently than the Book of Job but still theologically on.

The book highlights the relational aspect of God and skips over the glory/transcendence of God. Most often in the Bible, often we see humans responding with worship and awe (and conviction!) when they come into contact with God (i.e. Isaiah and Job). But characters in the Bible also respond with friendship: the three men who meet Abraham, Jesus and his disciples, the Bride and the Bridegroom in Revelation. So I don’t believe this was wrong.

There are some theologically questionable areas, but I feel like he danced around them rather than coming down on a side. Honestly, a lot of the areas (although not all) are in line with C.S. Lewis’ beliefs, not that that makes them inherently right or wrong. It appears that his beliefs are on the moderate side of Inclusivism (some are saved by Christ that don’t yet know it), but again, he never specifically says this. He makes a comment in one part that the point is not to make people Christians but to get them into right-relation with God. I don’t like this wording, though I see what he’s saying. His point, I believe, is that it’s not religion that matters but relationship. This follows the trend of those who don’t like to call themselves Christians but Christ-followers. My belief: instead of abandoning a name that has a heritage of both good and bad, let’s redeem it. This name has been with us since the beginning (Antioch, to be specific), and I’m not ready to give it up. It means "little Christs."

Regarding problems with the Trinity: A lot has to do with the fact that we, as fallen humans, cannot perfectly imagine or depict the Trinity. Any metaphor or picture will be limited. I’m willing to give some leeway in allegory.

However, some direct problems: the Christology he presents in the book is Jesus is the perfect man who perfectly depended on the Father. While this is true, he emphasizes this to the degree that there’s no room for Christ’s divinity. In fact, I get the impression in the book that the author doesn’t believe Christ is divine or has power.

Second, he veers on modalism. In the book, God the Father has the same wounds Christ has. God the Father was present with Christ on the cross. This is modalism. Christ was abandoned by God the Father–that was our punishment that Christ took on. God the Father, while He sacrificed much by sending His Son, did not have the same role as Christ.

I’d love to get some of your thoughts about the book if you’ve read it.