Well, somebody pray for me. My backslidden wife has convinced me to go see the movie, “The Shack,” and since International Day of Women was just a couple of days ago, I have relented. It has a kind of Garden of Eden feel about it; you know, “Here, Adam, have a bite of this apple from that tree over there” kind of thing.
My hope is that the movie will answer longtime questions I’ve had such as, “What exactly is Ezekiel’s Wheel?” and “Was it a whale or a big fish?” and “Why didn’t we get to see Jesus’ face in the original Ben Hur?” and “Why did the Israelites go in and out of captivity nine times in the book of Judges—couldn’t You have interrupted that at, like, four times?” and “Was it Welch’s or Woodbridge?” and “Was it really a rib or just a McNugget?” and “What did Paul’s prison earthquake register on the Richter Scale?” and “Did Peter always smell like fish?” and “Did Samson use bobby pins or hair product?” and “What were the expressions on the faces of those watching King David dance naked?” and “Did John dip the locusts in the honey, or did he eat ‘em straight up?” and “Was Jesus a cute baby, or did He grow into His looks?” and “Did the more vocal Pharisees have a Bronx accent?” and “Did Daniel know that a diet plan would be named after him?” and “How long before someone figures out that I’m kidding, and rebukes me?”
Look, I absolutely revere the scriptures and love God madly—I’m a goner!—but I haven’t found anyone, watched any film or read any book other than the Bible that has everything all together, all wrapped-up and complete about God. Many of us are relative experts on the Bible, and we still are wrong about God in some way. Maybe you’ve noticed that there’s more than a little disagreement over stuff. Frankly, there’s no way I’m going to agree 100% with what I see or hear as Sarah Harris and I watch “The Shack.” For sure we’ll talk about it afterwards, and that’ll be a healthy thing. I expect something like 55% biblical accuracy (as I know it), and maybe 70% relational relevance—with points deducted because nobody in the Godhead is a Mexican or an Eskimo or a Canadian or—Whatever were they thinking?—a Caucasian, so God cannot possibly know how to relate to me. It’s so wrong.