11, 2003
J2^treat, J{Qj:8757
SUontreat Coffee’s Student n/oke
The Music of Mess - Thoughts on The Shack
Caleb Hofheins
“I’m not a real author,
I’m an accidental author,”
were the first notewor
thy words that William
Young, the author of
The Shack, spoke
at convocation
on Thursday,
March 3. He is
right—but I will
push all heady
English major
squabbles aside,
and say that I
thought The
Shack contained
an abundance of
life-giving truth.
As a recovering.
Deist - turned
- Christian of
sorts, I found the
book to be an in
sightful companion into
the ways of 3: God who
is present and interested
in the lives of man-A
God who did not just set
the world to motion and
leave man unattended.
No, quite the opposite;
we live under the influ
ence of something far
more intoxicating.
When I read the first
section of The Shack, I
remember realizing in a
startling commotion of
ceptions and he was too
high up to visit me in the
bleakness of winter. I also
remember Jesus assuring
me shortly after that He
pain intimately), but it
is becoming evident that
He knows our persons so
well that He will restore
us in the ways which
are best for us.
What sort of
love do we
know in this
world that
would pur
sue so readily
that it would
not allow us
a short period of time,
that I knew this “Jesus”
about as well as I knew
my neighbor across the
street. I had observed
him and knew what
people said about him,
had a few conversations
with Him, but his face
was veiled by my misper
“For through the law I died to the law so that I might live for
God. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live,
but Christ lives in me. The life T live itj the body, Hive by faith
in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for meC
Galatians 2:r9-20
was still completely free
to be Himself despite
my misperceptions. His
love was patient, endur
ing anything. Forgiveness
and divine re-interpre
tations have allowed my
ideas of God to dis
sipate, as my ideas will
no longer contain Him.
He is no longer as much
of a distant
stranger, but a
new Dad who
is shaking the
world to get to
me. The heal-
i ;^Jng of God
is a mystery
(how ironic
that for some
of us, pain is
remedied by
knowing the
to remain
unscathed by
blistering work
of redemp
tion? He is
moving our
small worlds to
unveil an ex
pansive sky; He is shov
eling up the dirt in our
souls, raking it over, and
bringing Heaven down to
kiss our weary mouths.
He knows us so well that
He heals us by whatever
means He wishes— the
ways that we respond to
best. If experience has
taught us that there is no
God, then it would be up
to God to reveal Himself
as true in whatever way
He desires. If experience
has taught us to fear,
perfect Love will cast out
all fear.
I am learning more to
resonate with Job when
he said, “though He slay
me, yet will I hope in
Him” (Job 13:15). God
is at times the wreck
ing ball, and at the same
time. He is the physician
to bind up our wounds.
God is the mother we
didn’t have or the father
we didn’t have. He hous
es orphans who didn’t re
alize they were orphaned.
The homeless will know
He is Home. His joy is
our strength-He is strong
in us so we don’t have to
be. William Young called
himself a mess, but I
have no doubt that God
takes “messes of men”
and displays His majesty
through the weakest of
vessels. In our weakness
He is strong.