Bigger than Theology

I find myself needing to express something that I don't fully comprehend. I have come to my blog in a stream-of-conscious state of mind. I may not make much sense, and part of me thinks that's okay; after all, what difference does my sense make, anyway?

I try to avoid trends and fads, bandwagons and following the crowd. At least I like to think that I stand on my own feet, make my own decisions, form my own opinions. But in a world full of messages -- advertising in print and television, film and fiction -- and opinions flying about, from friends well-intentioned and pretend-friends with a product to sell, I wonder if I can actually call that the truth. I don't follow fashion trends to a tee (but I watch trends and adopt what I like.) I don't blindly take advice (unless I've decided to do so in advance.) I try to sift all information through my critical-thinking filter.

Sounds a little sceptical, even a tad cynical. I guess it is. Even when I'm not trying to be, I guess I'm a bit of the "I'll be the judge of that" persuasion. When books and movies are recommended to me, for example, I can sometimes feel a jade wall crop up in front of my eyes, upon which, "That's good for you, maybe..." is written. Recipes and fad diets are even more suspect. But perhaps the thing that renders me most uncertain and unreceptive is a spiritual recommendation. By that I mean must-read books and gotta-hear messages and ministers. The more often I hear about a book or a message, the further I retreat into my own fortress of resistance. I tell myself or the recommender that I intend to get around to it, but I really don't. In other words, I try to avoid bandwagons, big or small. The more persistent a trend is, the further I tend to run. I don't know why, I just do.

I have friends who rave about a life-changing work every time I see them. In fact, they rave about it to everyone, even those they're just meeting. I trust these friends, I respect them and their faithwalk. So you'd think I'd take the recommendation, right? I gave the mandatory response, "I keep meaning to buy that book." I never did.

Finally, sitting around their table at a New Year's Eve gathering, the question came up again:

"Have you read The Shack yet?"

"Not yet," I respond. "I will."

My friend got up from her seat, disappeared into her room, and emerged to place a paperback book on the table in front of me. As if to say, "There, now you have no excuse -- you must read this."

Two days later, during my holiday-cleanup, before I dived further into my extensive list of things to do, my body felt as if it were pressed into the floor. I became an energy void. My head began to ache, my nose and sinuses pounding. My joints stiffened almost imperceptibly. I looked at my husband, who had been nursing what the doctor later that day determined was a virus, with questioning-and-blaming eyes, to ask him again, "What are your symptoms?" He goes down the list. Yep, you've infected me. (Thanks, hon.)

Around 1:30 pm, when I should have been at the grocery store or sweeping or toting decoration boxes back up into the attic, I retired to my bed, the only place of comfort in my whole house. Lying there in misery I looked around with a moan on my lips, and saw that little book, The Shack, next to me.

Sometimes it takes a bit of incapacitation to make us sit still long enough to receive a gift, or something we need. Sometimes a virus is a blessing, a way to make us stop our frenzied life long enough to let our bodies and minds rest and our spirits heal. This time it took a wee little bug invading my body to make me seek solace in a good story.

I was pulled in and entranced straightaway. I have a friend who described Paradise Lost as such a good read, one that resonated with points of spiritual poignancy so vividly that she had to constantly remind herself it was fiction and not Scripture. While there is much in the personification of God in The Shack that doesn't encompass all of God's immensity, (what human words actually could?) I experienced that same resonance that my friend described within this new work's pages.

I'm sure that I will write more about it as I process it further, but I will end this post with a hearty recommendation. Any open heart that reads The Shack will close it in the end with a heart full of wonder and joy, and an overwhelming desire to know God in his mystery and splendor. If there's a better purpose to pursue in life, one that fully satisfies a person and everything/one that he/she touches, I haven't discovered it yet. Knowing God is bigger than doctrine, deeper than theology. Knowing God is having a relationship with God -- a real, vibrant, living and loving intimacy. One in which we know Him like He knows us.

So. My stream-of-conscious led to a book recommendation. I don't expect anyone to blindly accept it. But I know it wouldn't hurt. And I sure don't regret it. Not just for the reading, but for the conversation that the reading is sparking between me and my God. Any room on that bandwagon for more? I'm sure there is.