wellspring staff blog

Don’t you hate it just when you think things are clear, suddenly they get messy again? Under Turnball everyone seemed to be agreeing that climate change is happening, that we are (in part at least) responsible, and the prudent thing to do would be to act to curb global emissions. Then at the 11th hour Turnball is ousted, Abbot replaces him, climate skepticism is back with vengeance, and you and me - the average punter – is not quite sure what to think.

I will leave it to others to try and bring clarity as to the levels, causes, and responses to climate change. Instead I wish to reflect upon the function and nature of how ‘science’ is being used in this debate. Don’t worry at this point if you’re not a scientist, neither am I! I won’t baffle you with data.

What I find amazing is that we have scientists on both sides of the debate. Those who claim the science is clear – climate change is real and human induced; and those who claim the science is flawed. One ‘expert’ Tony Abbot cites is leading sceptic Professor (of geology) Ian Plimer. Plimer has won several awards, including a Eureka Prize for the promotion of science. And Plimer’s mantra is ‘don’t believe the science on climate change’. Astounding!

The profound insight to be gained here is this: scientists practice science, and even if ‘the science’ is neutral and factual (a position I believe is unsustainable), scientists are not. Scientists have agendas, they make assumptions, and they interpret results through personal biases. Should I mention at this point that Plimer is a director of three Australian mining companies?

Some of you may be thinking that Ian Plimer sounds familiar. He may. In the 80s and 90s Plimer was an outspoken skeptic who claimed science has disproved God. He even took ‘creationists’ to court claiming they had been misleading and deceptive under the Trade Practices Act. So in one debate he claims science is factual and believable, yet in another he claims it is flawed and questionable.

Science has never disproved God, and it can’t. It’s the wrong tool. And the only people who believe it has didn’t believe in him in the first place.

If all science is agenda driven are we right to be skeptics? Yes and no. Yes, there is a place for being skeptical, usually when an adverse outcome is possible. But what the climate change debate demonstrates are also the limits of skepticism. It is possible to doubt everything. We can never have all the facts, and we can always find someone with a different opinion. But this doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t make a decision.

It’s possible someone has contaminated the towns water supply with cyanide, or that your lunch contains salmonellae. It’s possible that your car has been booby trapped so that it will explode the next time you start it. But you don’t worry about these possibilities. You aren’t skeptical about your food or water or car. And if you were we wouldn’t call you a skeptic, or intelligent – we would call you neurotic!

Every decision we make is made on partial information. As a planet we need to make decisions about climate change based on partial information and that’s OK. More risky is procrastinating, which has the same outcomes as siding with skeptics.
Decisions about God are no different. We all have to make decisions about whether or not God exists on partial information. There will always be doubters, and those with different opinions. But to fail to decide, to procrastinate, that is in effect the same as deciding God does not exist. That is, I think, what Jesus meant when he said he who is not with me is against me.

David Rietveld

Alain De Botton explores this issue in his latest book “the pleasures and sorrows of work” released globally in April/May and dancing near the top of the non-fiction best-seller lists since then.

De Botton is a highly influential best-selling author and philosopher of modern life having tackled topics such as love, travel and, most famously, our addiction to success in Status Anxiety.

In “the pleasures and sorrows of work” he paints something of a masterwork portrait of work in the 21^st Century- using both his insightful, witty, writing style and in an accompanying photographic essay. De Botton does this through looking in detail at ten very different careers.  From this he tries to draw the threads of his observations together in a few profound snapshots of the nature and meaning of work in modern society.

His basic premise is that the bourgeois thinkers of the eighteenth century caused a tectonic shift in our understanding of work: we began to see work as a great source of meaning and potential fulfilment rather than the chore to be avoided at all costs. 

In pursuit of answers and pithy observations De Botton follows tuna from the ocean to the warehouse to the dinner table, tags along with a career counsellor, watches a rocket being launched and visits a plane graveyard.

And what does he find? As we have come to expect from De Botton, he is capable of some profound and revealing insights into the modern psyche. Two that spring to mind are that through work we exercise an intrinsic need to impose order on our surroundings, in however a small way, and at the same time, almost paradoxically, “thinking you can transform the world” is a massive pitfall.

But overall he finds something which is both a massive challenge to yours and my approach to work but at the same time something that is astoundingly, well, very ancient.

He discovers that attempting to find fulfilment in your employment is beyond the reach of most and condemns us to feelings of shame and persecution.

After spending time with Symons, the career counsellor, De Botton says

“I left Symon’s company newly aware of the unthinking cruelty discreetly coiled within the magnanimous bourgeois assurance that everyone can discover happiness through work and love. It isn’t that these two entities are invariably incapable of delivering fulfilment, only that they almost never do so. And when an exception is misrepresented as a rule, our individual misfortunes, instead of seeming to be quasi-inevitable aspects of life, will weigh down on us like particular curses.” (The pleasures and Sorrows of Work, p. 127-128)

So there you have it, we cannot expect to find happiness in work. Didn’t the author of Ecclesiastes (most likely Solomon) conclude the same? After “undertaking great projects” and “becoming far greater than anyone in Jerusalem before” he summarises:  “When I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind, nothing was gained under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 2:11)

The remarkable similarity between De Botton’s and Solomon’s conclusions on work don’t of course reveal that De Botton has adopted a Christian worldview by any stretch. While launching the book at an event in Melbourne, which I attended, De Botton explained that he is “a secular person.”

He seems to reach the primary reason for his bleak (or realistic?) conclusion in the final chapter while surveying a jet aircraft graveyard in the deserts of the USA. And it’s based on good old fashioned existential angst!

There is no point expecting soul-quenching fulfilment in work when all our endeavours will one day disappear and mean nothing. His solution though? Get lost in the small-scale goals of work, to distract us, at least for a while, from the big picture questions of death and eternity.

Now I don’t know about you, but I am happy to get lost in the detail of small-scale goals, but I need to know that they are contributing to in the big picture. Any alternative would lead me to spiral into despondency.

Solomon also sees his achievements against the background of his demise: “my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labour under the sun. For a man may do his work with wisdom and skill, and then he must leave all he owns to someone who has not worked for it” Ecclesiastes 2:21. But Solomon reaches a far better conclusion: “Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commands, for this is the whole duty of man.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13).

Casting our notions of work in the light of a loving God of eternity allows us to embrace the frustrations of the impermanence of what we do, without needing to disappear into a black hole of despondency. Once we know the certainly of our future through a relationship with Jesus, we can grasp our purpose in the present- to serve God in any occupation, and be free to enjoy the good and satisfying parts of our jobs. Doesn’t take away the sorrows though, simply puts them in perspective!

Mark Holland

According to the experts – the ‘academy’, this is perhaps the equal 8th best movie ever, winning 8 academy awards. That puts it behind movies like Ben Hur (11) and Titanic (11), and on par with Gone With the Wind and Ghandi. That makes this ‘rags to riches’ movie a must see, and so I did.

It’s the story of a Mumbai slum dweller who becomes a contestant on the Indian version of “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” With every question, we get a flask back into the life and hardships of Jamal, and how it is that this uneducated ‘slumdog’ has accumulated his general knowledge. Jamal, and his older brother Salim have learned all of their lessons the hard way. Their mother was killed in a religiously motivated riot when they were young, and people have been taking advantage of them ever since.

British director Danny Boyle says of his movie: “It is much deeper and more profound … than a game show. … I love that about it. It is a chance to get yourself lost in romance.” Yes it’s a romance too. Jamal and Latika meet as fellow slumdogs on the run, and Jamal has always had a soft spot for her. But his lot in life means he is unable to provide for or protect her, even from his own brother. So Jamal enters “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” not in the hope of winning money, but in the hope of finding his lost love, and having the means to live happily ever after with her.

The movie also bears all the hallmarks of a trying-to-win-awards movie. Its themes include poverty, disability, injustice, faithful love, innocence and the loss there-of, abuse, purity of heart, mindless religion, all in a non-linear plot. The storyline on the surface appear simple - the pure hearted naïve hero finally gets his girl, and the bad guys get their just rewards. But you don’t have to dig deep to find contradictions. What about all the other ‘slumdogs’ who didn’t escape? And the boy who was intentionally blinded by a repulsive man because blind beggars make twice as much money – when he is killed you feel justice is done. But what will happen to the 20 odd disabled children previously under his ‘care’? At least they used to get fed, and had a place to sleep. And it’s Salim, Jamal’s brother, who kills this man. This action simultaneously frees Latika yet sets his life on a destructive course. And having freed Latika, Salim then takes advantage of her. And then Salim … you get the idea.

So when you walk out of the picture theatre you feel a little confused. I ought to feel happy that Jamal got his girl and won the game show, but I also get that life in India remains very harsh and unjust for millions. How will they escape? Was Salim’s choice of a life of violence invalid? Was Latika’s choice to be beautiful-but-taken-advantage-of-girl invalid? What other choices did they have? And when, as younger boys, Jamal and Salim steal shoes to etch out a living, was this wrong? And the game show host … again, you get the idea.

When you walk out of the theatre you are not quite sure what to think. It’s as if Slumdog Millionaire is trying to be like a piece of modern art. The movie has rich content, deep themes, but you as viewer need to interpret them. The movie almost speaks, asking a question of you – what do you think I mean? What will you do with me, and the issues I raise?

And that is what makes the picture both brilliant, and hopeless. It’s a social commentary that avoids saying the simplistic, brings into focus the depressing and confusing, looks at it from various view points, and then says … nothing. And the fact that we, along with ‘the academy’ all stand around and applaud says volumes; about us, our culture, the things to which we aspire, and our distinct lack of a ‘compass’. Sorry I think I’m getting Slumdog confused with another movie – something about an Emperor and his lack of clothes.

So watch the movie, rejoice with Jamal, cry with Salim, and if you feel moved to combat poverty in India, start more TV game shows for slumdogs.

I saw an add for a TV show the other day, ‘bringing up baby’ I think it was. Anyway, the add when something like this: “In the 50’s parenting was all about discipline. In the 60’s parenting was all about Dr. Spock. In the 70’s parenting was all about attachment. Wouldn’t you like to which parenting method was the right one?”

I had to laugh. Why is that we think that we, in the 00’s (sometimes called the naughties), we think we have the ‘right’ perspective on parenting. Don’t you think that in 20 years time someone will be making another TV show saying something like “in the 90’s they thought parenting was about …, in the naughties they thought …, but we now know ….”

Or to put it another way, do you think Dr Spock, or any parents who followed his method, ever sat down and said “we want to parent in a way that is relevant to this decade only. We know there is a right way to parent, but we aren’t interested in that, we are only interested in a parenting method for the 60’s.”

For those of you have seen the TV show you may think I am missing the point. I may be missing the point of the TV show, but I am seeking to make another, far more important point. All things are seen from a vantage point. Perhaps a historical vantage point, as in this case. Perhaps a social, an ethnic, a gender, a generational, or from within a worldview vantage. Everything we see, we are looking at from somewhere, and the place from where we look shapes what we see.

For some of us this is a scary thought – that there is no such thing as true ‘objectivity’. Nothing, not even ‘science’ which at times has claimed to be about ‘objective facts’ is truly objective. Others of us are saying – ‘tell me something new’. ‘Relativism’ in now the way we think. Much ink has been spilt over this topic, some of it helpfully. But let’s not go there.

What was so amazing about the TV add was that it began by acknowledging the ‘contingency’ of knowledge (it depends on where you look from). Then it went on to suggest that the TV show could tell us the absolute truth about parenting. Who wrote that add, and what were they thinking?… Spock was influenced by his era, but we will tell you the timeless truth!

And yet we do the same all the time don’t we. In Australia we have this way of looking down our noses back at the ‘wisdom’ of the previous generations and seeing that their ‘truths’ were little more than projections of their era. We know better now. We know better than to think that smacking is effective discipline; that rote learning is effective; that strangers are the greatest danger; that homosexuality is evil; that immigrants take our jobs and don’t assimilate; that Islam is a false religion; that environmentalists are scare mongers and so on. We know better now.

Do we? …How? …Why? …On what grounds? I think it’s fair say that the above views are widely accepted, they are the ‘new orthodoxy’ if not ‘universal’. But how did they become so? Some came as a result of science we may say. We can prove green house gases have risen and track the correlation to global warming and the El Niño effect for example. Yes, we can, but this science, and all science takes place from a vantage point. Personally I am convinced that our current rates of growing emissions are problematic, and we need to act. But I am also aware that our science, our educational research, our economic modelling, our ethical reflections and so on all take place from a vantage point.

So what do we do? Doubt everything, become a sceptic? You could, but it is not a way forward. Scepticism may be helpful in showing you the flaws of others, but it contains the assumption that via a method of doubting and questioning everything, we will be able to do away with our constructs and be left with the bare essentials. We can then build the house of knowledge upon a firm foundation. Descartes tried this. I think therefore I am. The problem is, it was Descartes who was thinking. Therefore everything Descartes through remained a construct of Descartes. Scepticism will not build you a secure house if knowledge. So what will?

Faith. Faith? Isn’t faith the opposite of knowledge I hear you ask? What about Galileo and the earth centric Pope? Sorry, but that is such a 19th and early 20th Century view of faith and knowledge. As far as theories of knowledge go – the consensus is now that all knowledge is built upon a set of previously constructed assumptions – upon faith. And by the way, most 16-18 Century scientists were Christians, people of faith. Pope Urban VIII holds the minority view.

Anyway, if all knowledge is built upon what we might broadly call a ‘faith’, a worldview, a set of assumptions – then I want to say not all faiths are the same. Galileo was right, and the Pope was wrong. Galileo’s assumptions have proven to be more consistent and coherent with other things we have observed and ‘discovered’.

The implications of this are many and profound. I will simply tease out two. Whatever you think you know – some of it is simply the result of where you are looking from and the general consensus about what you see when you discuss it with those standing next to you. Second, if you want to understand another faith, you need to go and look at it from the inside out, and not from the outside in. Go and discuss what it looks like with the people who are standing in it, not with the people standing next to you.

Who knows – you might discover something of the truth God meant when he said ‘taste and see that the Lord is good.’

Like many Australians, over the past few days I have been distraught and captivated by the devastation of the Victorian bush fires. That so much death and destruction is possible in such a short period of time, and that we are so powerless to defend ourselves in the face of such dangers is difficult to comprehend.

While shock gridlocks one part of my brain – another part is thinking how do I process this as a Christian? Given that I believe in a sovereign benevolent God, how can I make sense of these events?

As I look around me, I notice Christian leaders making statements about how our thoughts and prayers are with those who have experienced loss. And this is right. Our first response is one of empathy. In fact this is one of the great distinctives of the Christian faith. We have a God who became man in Jesus, took on our flesh, lived our life, cried at the death of his friends, suffered injustice and was ultimately crucified. And because of all this we have a God who can sympathise with us in our weaknesses.

I also notice Christian organizations launching appeals. Again, this is right. We ought to respond when and where we can in practical ways. The number crunchers tell us that Christians are on average the most generous and philanthropic citizens.

But the prime minister and premier call for empathy and generosity. As Christians, what can we say beyond this? My local newspaper headline reads ‘hell fires’. Biblically speaking, fire is often used as an image or instrument of judgment. What can be said in this regard?

Controversial Christian minister Danny Nalliah yesterday said, according to Melbourne paper The Age, that the fires were a result of God’s judgment upon “INCENDIARY” abortion law reforms that last year made Victoria “the baby-killing state”. “God’s protection has been taken off the state, and Satan is having a go at the nation.”

This line of thinking is unpopular and unpalatable, but is there any truth to it? Didn’t God after all burn Sodom and Gommorah for their sins?

Drawing links between Sodom and Gommorah and the Victorian bush fires is problematic. The account in Genesis 19 does not read like a natural disaster that happened to burn a town(s) in its path as was the case in Victoria. According to Gen 19:24 burning sulfur rained down on the city, and on the city alone. The point of the narrative is that God’s judgment was decisive and specific.

If you did want to find a biblical parallel to the Victorian bushfires, better is Luke 13. Here a tower in Siloam appears to have fallen without warning, killing 18 people. Jesus is asked if people incur such wrath because they “were worse sinners.” Jesus’ response is to say that they were not worse sinners. To draw the parallels to Victoria, we cannot conclude that the people of Kinglake specifically or of Victoria at large are any better or worse than other Australians. Such conclusions are erroneous.

But there is a sting in the tail to what Jesus says. His next line is: “But unless you repent, you too will all perish.” (Luke 13:5) Jesus’ message, like it or not, is that while there is indiscriminate and apparently unfair ‘justice’ in life – all humanity (outside repentance) sits under judgment and will one day perish.

Let me be clear about what I am, and am not saying here. I am not saying that Jesus’ or the Christian view of personhood is that we are all bad and deserve to die. Humanity has been made in God’s image, and God is good. The proverbial little boy who says “God made me, and God don’t make junk” was right. All humans, both those who believe in Jesus and those who don’t, remain capable at times of reflecting God’s image in the way they love, care, and forgive. To be balanced we ought also say our desire for justice and our disgust to think that some might have deliberately lit fires that cased this devastation is also a way in which all humanity reflects God’s character.

Rather, the Christian view of personhood is that, in Adam, who acted as the representative of the human race, we have all fallen short of God’s standards (perfection) and that have all come under judgment. And its not just Adam, or people who light bushfires who deserve God’s judgment. None of us manages to live to our own standards, let alone God’s. The way to avoid judgment is not to be better than your neighbour, but to repent of your inability to make things right with God by yourself, and to believe that in Jesus you can again have peace with God.

What does this mean regarding the bushfires? Am I saying that the fires are judgment for sins? No – and yes. No – I do not believe we can conclude that God caused the fires so as to specifically judge persons who have since lost their lives. First, God did not cause them. They were a combination of naturally occurring events and human actions. Second, the fires were widespread and indiscriminate. But yes – the fires are a consequence of the fact that we live in a broken world – broken by human rebellion God. Natural disasters are a consequence of human sin, and in that sense they function as a self imposed result of our (corporate humanity that is) rejection of God.

Where then is hope? Let me turn to media coverage of the bushfires. Two stories caught my attention. One was the story of a man reunited with his dog. The other was a story of a husband and wife reunited by Mike Overton and the Channel Nine helicopter. The two embraced within a scrum of media cameras. What the media is looking for is the good story on the fringe of all the bad news. Fascinating isn’t it – usually the mass media is good at giving us the bad news. But when the news is so bad we can’t comprehend it, they end up trying to find the soft edge.

What is missing in the media coverage, by and large, is an in-depth look at any of the lives that were lost. All we get is photos of people crying over mellow music. While we the general public might find a glimmer of hope in a couple being reunited, spare a thought for the hundreds who will never be reunited with their loved ones. They will find no comfort or hope in such stories. Nor will any amount of money from various appeals fill this void. In short, for those staring most starkly into this tragedy, I can see no silver lining to this cloud coming from the mouths of politicians or the stories of media outlets.

Here too the Christian story stands alone. Today I bury a parishioner, and in two days I bury my grandmother. Different from death via a tragedy I know, but still death nonetheless. These occasions will be a mixture of sadness and joy. Sadness at saying goodbye, but joy in knowing that both ladies have a hope in a life beyond their suffering and mortality. A hope that does not compare to the finding of ones pet, or a helicopter flight.

Natural disasters remind us there is a shallowness to much of modern life, a finiteness of the human condition and abilities, and the need for hope in and beyond our uncertain world. I’m relieved I have such a hope in Jesus.

David Rietveld

Like many others I suspect, I awoke earlyish this morning to listen to the inauguration speech of new American President Barrack Obama. It was, as anticipated an inspiring speech. The guy is a gifted orator, and I would like his speech writer to help script some sermons I hade to endure (and preach). It was a speech about new beginnings, about strength in times of adversity, and a progressive approach to America’s leadership in international affairs. It was a speech of hope – one of the great yet often overlooked Christian virtues. Ironically, perhaps most powerful was not the content of the speech but the colour of the speaker.

Given all that, why was I so unsettled – why did I have alarm bells going off in the back of my mind? Because Obama is being positioned (or positioning himself) as a saviour. A saviour of the underprivileged; a saviour of a nation in recession; and a saviour of America as the leader of the so called free world.

That’s no small order! Is he up to the task? Is anyone up to that task? I suspect not. I say this not because I believe one person cannot make a difference. They can. The previous American president (with some help from Osama Bin Laden and others) made a difference. But unfortunately it’s easier to get things wrong (or at least flawed) than it is to get them right. Obama’s speech was full of dualisms. In my opinion false dichotomies. Bush’s administration did not get it all wrong, and Obama’s will not get it all right. No administration will get it all wrong or all right. They will all be somewhere in the middle. It’s a question of degree, not kind.

Further, there are many things, such as hurricanes, or the behaviour of foreign powers or economic markets which are by and large outside the influence of American presidents, whatever their persuasion. Nor is the case to say that if managed well, the environment, or the middle east, or the economy will fix itself. There will always be natural disasters, wars, and greed induced market crashes.

While we all hope that this president will be better than the last, history tells us that to hope in humanity somehow fixing itself and the world progressively is a misplaced hope. That hope needs to be placed in another saviour.

I was standing outside the front of church on Christmas day, when one congregation member thanked another for the gift they had received – a copy of The Shack. “Oh you didn’t get it from me” said the other, “but it’s a beautiful book isn’t it?” This was not the first time I had heard mention of The Shack. Several people had told me it was a once in a generation type of book, and I ought to read it. So in the post Christmas sales I went to Koorong and purchased a copy. I discover this ‘once in a generation’ claim plastered on the front cover, along with a comparison to Pilgrim’s Progress, both from the pen of Eugene Peterson. These are high claims. It’s a #1 New York Times best seller.

Having devoured the book in two days I must say it’s an eminently readable book, a page turner. Personally I cannot recall another Christian book that has left me with such mixed feelings. At times I was moved to tears as I empathised with ‘Mack’, the lead character. I found myself being taken on a journey, a road less travelled, but one I am conscious many would deeply benefit from. At other times I was very frustrated, annoyed, and agitated; as I listen in to Mack’s reflections and engagements with God. He arrives at profound ‘insights’, many of them just plainly wrong. We shall get that presently.

Briefly, for those who have not read it – the plot. Mack is flawed man, who as a child, in response to abuse, poisons his father’s alcohol. Having said that he has married a caring compassionate wife, and appears to have fathered a healthy family with five children – all things considered. That is, until Mack takes three of his children on a fateful camping trip. As they are packing up Mack allows two of his children to go canoeing. One falls in the water, and needs to be rescued by Mack (an ex-life saver). In going to save his son, Mack leaves behind his youngest daughter at the camp. She is abducted by a serial child killer, never to be seen alive again. This is all too much for Mack. His fragile and clunky personality is all at sea, his family is unravelling, and his simple faith is failing. In the face of his catastrophe and his inability to fix it; anger, judgementalism, depression, and disengagement take over. God then invites Mack to a weekend at the shack – the scene of the crime, where Mack freely engages with real personifications of the trinity. Mack works through his anger, his self and God blame, and emerges a transformed man, closer to God and able to lead his family and life as never before.

Being a preacher by profession, I will restrict myself (somehow that doesn’t sound like a preacher does it) to three things I love about this book, and three things I hate. First, my loves.

I love, no – that’s over the top, I like the way this book is written. Precisely because it’s written as a narrative, it circumnavigates the trap of being an abstract theological reflection on the nature of the trinity. On the contrary; it’s a personal exploration of what it means to believe in God in the light of intense and arbitrary tragedy. As I have already said, I found myself taken along on a journey. I found Mack’s experiences qualify him to existentially explore these profound questions. Many people have a simplistic view of God as someone whose job it is to bless the good and to discipline or punish the bad. Mack is such a man, and his faith cannot cope with his misfortune. He is loosing his faith, as do many who find themselves or their loved ones short changed in life. This book has the capacity to help move people through and beyond crisis, and into a new and deeper relationship with God. This is a book I want to give to many people who are stuck at the level of a Father Christmas ‘god’ as a Christmas present.

In this narrative framework, I like much of what the book says about suffering. Anger, judgementalism, and disengagement are normal and understandable responses, at least for those of us wired like Mack. There are no simple answers, and Mack struggles with and forgets himself often while in dialogue with God. God is portrayed as someone who is also hurt and angered by evil and its consequences. The way forward is not revenge. Somehow, as difficult as it is we need to move through these initial responses, and beyond them. God can somehow use suffering to bring good out of evil, life out of death. At the crux of all this is Jesus – God in the flesh, who has suffered and can be Mack’s (and our) companion and soul mate. When we go back and revisit our skeletons, our open and undealt with wounds, we will find God there with us. The Shack doesn’t say all that could be said about suffering, nor does it say everything as it should be said. Yet for the person who is stuck at the angry stage, it says enough, and it says it movingly.

I love, and here I am being genuine, the way this book explores the triune God as relational and loving at his core. If you can put aside the tacky Jesus kissing God on the lips (this did not work for me), the narrative rightly portrays God as a being who exists in perfect complete relationships. Young’s (the authors) exploration of the three human personas of the trinity interacting with mutual respect, love, and other person centeredness captures something of the dynamic and nature of God. The trinity is not an abstract theological concept – it is a reality that underwrites and gives shape to all creation. God has made us relational beings, and invited us into his family. Not because he is lacking, because he is loving. In an era where we try and paint on relationship as a veneer over our programs, our consumerism, our individualism, and our rationalism, this book is a timely reminder of who God is, what it means for us to be made in his image, and what it is that he is offering us – relationship with himself.

I do not like not knowing exactly what this book is! Is it fiction? The Shack maybe found in the fiction section of Koorong. Is it biography based on real events? The foreword and after words suggest so. Or is it theology? Any book that devotes much of itself to exploring the trinity and our relationship to a triune God in the face of suffering necessarily explores many fundamental theological issues. Yet the genre of this book is left up in the air. When choosing a genre in which to write, an author sets up an unspoken contract with the reader as to how this piece of literature is to be interpreted. Young unhelpfully blurs across three genres, and the contract from him is unclear at best, unhelpful at worst. I have concluded The Shack is extended parable, like Pilgrim Progress. But that does not allay all my fears. My concern with the story like conversations within the Godhead, and from God to Mack, where God reveals and corrects fundamental ‘truths’ about him self. How do these revelations relate God’s word as inscripturated revelation? Or to the history and traditions of Christian thought? Alarmingly the nature and perspectives of God are explored without any reference to Scripture, or historical theology. Pilgrims Progress works because it is written from the perspective of a pilgrim, from our perspective. The Shacks puts many ideas as coming from the very mouth of God. This is a level of authority, albeit parabolic, unwarranted and undeserved.

I do not like that this book is simplistically and unhelpfully dualistic. In the unfolding story Mack moves from the stereotypical guy who knows goes to church and know things about God, to someone who meets God in the flesh, who experiences and relates freely with him in ways that his previous theology (Mack is a graduate of a theological seminary) and religiosity mitigated against. Theology is pitted against experience, thoughts against feelings, religion against relationship, being against doing, love against justice, freewill against determinism, Christianity against - well I’m not sure, but Young’s Jesus denies not only being religious, even being Christian. On the one hand I can appreciate where Young is coming from. Mack appears to have been on this journey from head to heart, from doing to being. It’s a journey that I myself have been on, and found that leg perhaps the most fruitful of all my spiritual voyages. It a leg that many ‘Macks’ out their need to take. But at the extreme the dichotomies are false, even heretical. Too often this book is about ‘either ors’ and not enough about ‘both ands’ and the mystery of paradox.

Finally I do not like The Shack because in it Mack (or Young?) explores many fundamental issues in an unsatisfactory way. Ideas are presented as if they are new fresh revelations about the nature or character of God. In reality they are old ideas that have been found wanting and by and large discarded by orthodoxy. Space does not permit I do justice to this claim. Brief examples will have to suffice to make my point. According to Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) evil is the absence of good. Humans use their freewill and power to make selfish choices, resulting in bad or ‘evil’ consequences. This is theologising of no less than Augustine of Hippo (354-430). Yet theologically and existentially we are all too aware that evil is more than the absence of good. It is a destructive force intent on undermining God’s good purposes. We see this not only in Scripture (in the work of Satan, in demons, in the enemies of God’s people), but even in The Shack. The abductor and murderer of Mack’s daughter Missy – he is clearly evil beyond the absence of good. Young’s reflections on this do not do justice to the gravity of the evil committed.

Young’s Jesus is also lacking. He is presented as a young carpenter with a heightened ever present God consciousness. He is thoroughly human, self limiting to the point of being unable to fly. This is the Jesus of, among others, Schleiermacher (1768-1834). Schleiermacher’s Jesus has also failed the test of time. A Jesus who can walk on the water can fly. Jesus does not loose or limits his divinity in the incarnation so that he must lean on God to do the miraculous. Jesus is both fully God and fully man in the flesh. More alarmingly – where is the cross? Beyond some vague reference to scars on his wrists, the Jesus we meet in The Shack is a young carpenter, not a crucified and risen saviour. Mack’s salvation from depression (as opposed to sin and death) comes from his own personal growth and enlightenment (as opposed to Jesus death).

And what is going on at the end of the book? Mack’s father (who is dead) comes back from somewhere, but not hell, is reconciled to his son Mack. He too is able to partake in the divine. This sounds like a purgatory where those who have failed to reach reconciliation and release in life can achieve it in the afterlife. If Mack’s father died an unrepentant man, why has he not come under God’s judgement? And why is Papa so unwilling to judge Missy’s murderer. The Shack is sounding more and more like it fits Neibuhr’s 1938 assessment of mainline liberal theology, where “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgement through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross”. Ouch! But if the shoe fits….

So, will I give The Shack to someone next Christmas? Yes – I think I might. Mack’s journey is a journey, as I said, that is a road less travelled that many need to take. Guy meets God is a great love story, and to my dismay sometimes the liberals appreciate and tell a better love story better than evangelicals do. But it’s also a dangerous book, bursting of half truths and heresy. It’s liberalism dressed up in parable. I would be doing coffee with anybody I gave the book so as to sort out the wisdom from the folly.