Back to the Shack

One day, a couple of years ago, while scrolling through a free movie weekend on HBO, I came across the movie, "The Shack." The family was asleep in bed, so I thought that this would be a fun and interesting movie to watch. I knew nothing about the movie other than it was supposed to be a Christian movie and the idea was that a man meets God in a shack. I expected something a little light-hearted and humorous that would inculcate some useful and important homily. Boy, was I mistaken!

I was not prepared for what happened. This movie was an emotional roller-coaster ride that took me places that, frankly, I didn't care to go. (Yes, I just used a cliche, but it fits so well.)

By the time I had finished this, er, movie, my theology had been, no hyperbole, shaken up. I have ever so rarely come across anything that effected me in such a manner. 

After it was over, I immediately went to Amazon and downloaded the book. Something I'd never done in response to a film before.

I've had so many discussions on-line and with people I know concerning this movie and book. (The book was pleasantly similar to the movie.) Discussions I've renewed repeatedly. I've thought about it and prayed about it and struggled over it. Why? Because, though I highly recommend it, there is something about it that didn't set quite right with me.

If, as I can't imagine, someone who hasn't seen the movie or read the book was to read my thoughts on this, it seems only fair to give fair warning. (Frankly, I cannot imagine anyone other than my immediate family even seeing this post.)

SPOILER ALERT!

Now, the things that bothered me did not necessarily include presenting God as a black woman and the Holy Ghost as an Asian woman. That was explained as, well, real, but also a vision, I suppose. Besides, I decided to treat it as metaphor and just went with it.

The thing that has really vexed me for so long, though, is what the author was trying to say about forgiveness. I understand why people claim he was pushing universal salvation. Though, I didn't really think so myself. Besides, "Papa" kept reiterating that she doesn't like slaves.

Though, a YouTube interview I saw recently with Paul Young seemed to indicate the possibility that he may actually subscribe to a form of "universalism." In short, and trying to paraphrase fairly, he said that he wouldn't be surprised if God was the kind of God who would make a way for all mankind to ultimately come to Him and share His love. 

Personally, I would think one would have to ignore a lot of verses in the Bible about Hell. That would include much preaching from our Lord. To believe that there is any possibility that all will ultimately live in the eternal bliss of Glory flies in the face of everything the Holy Scripture says about the Justice of God. And, yes, God is just!

One scripture reference here: John 3:16. Why would Christ talk about those who believe "would not perish" if, after all is said and done, none perish?

Anyway. Back to the shack!

In the end, the real, ultimate problem was that "Papa" wanted the man to forgive. Okay, but even to the point of forgiving the man who had destroyed his daughter? (Kill is not strong enough of a word.)

Now, honestly, this entire thing is very emotional for me. As a father of a daughter, or, I suppose, for a father of any child, for that matter, the idea of a man hurting my baby is more that my mind wants to ponder. Hurt me, okay. We'll deal with that. But my child? That's quite a different story.

I probably don't need to quote a bunch of Bible verses to make the point that God wants us to forgive one another. (And even ourselves.) He wants us to forgive others. Others who have hurt us. Yes, even hurt us terribly. But with no qualifications?

A year or two ago, there was a shooting at, of all things, a Texas church. Several were killed. Even the pastor's small granddaughter. It was dreadful. Horrible!

One of the most asinine reporters I've ever seen on television was asking questions of the pastor and his wife just a couple of days after the shooting. I can't remember all of his questions, but one really stood out as historically stupid. The man coldly asked, "Have your forgiven the shooter?"

The pastor feebly answered in the affirmative and the clip cut back to something else related to the story. 

Me? I only wished that that idiotic reporter could hear the things I called him!

Why, in the name of all that's holy, would he ask such a heartless question? The poor couple's granddaughter was not even in the grave yet and some jack ass is asking him about forgiveness?

I can guarantee you that if they had not been Christians, if he had not been a pastor, no one would've asked him if he had "forgiven" anyone. But since they were believers, at least with the world, it's perfectly fine to be a thoughtless cad to the recently bereaved. Sheesh!

Now, at that time, I can remember thinking, "Who said the shooter wants forgiveness?" (I can't recall, but I think he was taken alive.) Did anyone ask him if he wanted to be forgiven? Did he ask to be forgiven? Did he think he did anything wrong?

To me, it just seemed like the same old drivel I've heard time and again about "forgiveness." It's almost like the word is magical and somehow saying, "I forgive you," grants as much to whomever we consider the offender.

More later.

Back to "The Shack."

Here is a story about a man, "Mack," who lost his little girl in the worst way imaginable. And he is supposed to forgive this serial killer who doesn't think he's done anything wrong? Someone tell me how that works?

I'm not sure how much time I should spend discussing here what it means to be a reprobate. I could  ask why the Bible talks about them if there is no such thing? People seem to give the concept pretty much no thought.

More later.

I've heard story after story of people "forgiving" those who've hurt them. Those who, at least in their minds and maybe truly, have hurt them in ways that will be with them until their dying day. But, they say they've forgiven them. How?

How do you forgiven someone who thinks they've done nothing wrong. In other words, how do you grant forgiveness to the unrepentant? Can you?

I won't try to quote the number of Bible verses that explain that God's forgiveness is ready and waiting, but we must repent, admit our wrong, and ask forgiveness for the sins we've committed against Him. It's not complicated. He freely grants mercy to those who ask for it. 

What of those who don't repent? Who don't confess? Who don't, who won't, ask for forgiveness? Again, there are a lot of verses about Hell in the Bible too.

There is an almost, methinks, equally important part to this conundrum. How do we deal with the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the anguish when someone doesn't want forgiveness when they've wronged us?

Perhaps we earnestly desire to forgive them. Sometimes it's for our own desire to be relieved of the struggle of not knowing what to do. Sometimes the pain and frustration is so bad, we'll do or believe anything to relieve it. Sometimes people just fake it.

The author described the grief the family was stuck in after the disappearance of the child as the "great sadness." What an apropos name. The guilt, the shame and the loss the family endured was something to which all too many can relate. I thank God I cannot!

Firstly, bearing in mind that it's impossible for us to be unbiased and we, being human, tend to think first of ourselves and our own needs. Still, we must be sure as we can be that we are the injured party and not just suffering from our own poor choices. (This part requires much prayer and fasting.) Alas, we do tend to conflate the two.

That is one thing the author did brilliantly, he chose a hopeless scenario where there could be no doubt about who was at fault. Yes, the parents, being good parents, felt guilt for the mistakes, that they imagined, incorrectly, they made. They, no doubt, were actually, certainly the innocent, injured parties. Theirs was a hurt that they did not ask for in any way.

The awful thing the perpetrator had done had showed him as someone certainly on the road to Hell. The dichotomy between himself and the family was a clear demonstration that he was as guilty as they were innocent. He was certainly a man in need of forgiveness.

So, how do we cope when people just ain't interested in our forgiveness? They don't believe they've done wrong or they just don't care. Even with someone so lost as a sociopathic killer.

There is a question worth actually considering: What if the offender is a reprobate. Certainly, in my mind, the serial killer in the story is such. Reprobate means, simply, abandoned of God. To paraphrase that, I would  say that such people are so cold and numb to the Holy Ghost that God doesn't even trouble Himself with them. (How horrible would it be to be so depraved?)

These people would be rare, of course. Quick names like Hitler, Stalin and Mao come to mind. Still we don't have to look any farther than our own Congress to find such people. A politician who thinks it's perfectly fine to murder a defenseless baby for simple convenience and would campaign on as much betrays a diabolical lack of heart and conscience. The abortion doctor, the serial rapist and pedophile are so far in the flesh, I don't know if there is any hope for these people. 

God's mercy is deep and wide, so, occasionally, I find myself praying for them. Hope springs eternal?

We so struggle with what is often today called "closure." (I hate that term!) The word was used in the movie. 

We want to escape the pain, whoever may be at fault. So we search for any means to mollify or alleviate it. We just want it to go away. We want release. The problem is, what do we do when the pain just won't go away?

Pain is only a part of life. It is inevitable. We feel it in our tummies whenever we've missed a meal. We feel it in our bones as the years pass and we grow old and grey. We feel it in our hearts when we lose something or someone we love. Pain is just pain.

We seek our escape, but it follows us wherever we go. It's there like an old friend, or enemy, who never lets us get too far removed. It holds onto us and wakes us in the night to tell us the most unpleasant stories of days gone by. It even haunts us in our dreams. It's wherever we are. It's part of us. It just is.

We like to say we forgive those who've hurt us because we think it will give us peace. The problem is, it does not. We may live in denial, but the pain is still gnawing at us. We can't get shed of it. At least not so easily. 

Christ taught his disciples to forgive "seventy times seven." Obviously, this is not literal, but a principal. We are to be forgiving to our brother no matter how many times he hurts us.

Scripture says that, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." "Confess" being the operative word. (Yes, I did just reference a particular verse. Finally!)

The question remains: Can we forgive those who do not confess? Those who do not repent? Those who, in their own eyes, have done no wrong? Can we? 

Can God?

Entire Christian denominations are founded on the principal of what is aptly, if over-simply, called "irresistible grace." The idea is that we have no part in our salvation; we don't, can't, even choose God. He strictly and simply chooses us. We are saved because a Holy God, in His wisdom and righteousness, makes us so. We can't lose our salvation because we never claimed it. It was simply granted to us. It is irresistible.

Now, remember, Papa doesn't like slaves. ("Papa" said "prisoners." "Jesus" said "slaves." We are, in my mind, most definitely slaves if we have no choice who we love. Choices can, regrettably, be bad, but they must be ours and we must be free to make them. Otherwise, there is no such thing as free will. 

The Calvinist believes grace is irresistible. The Armenian believes, even after accepting it, grace is rejectable. Both are wrong. The former believes that we cannot love God while the latter believes God cannot love us. Love is a choice and it is everlasting or it isn't love at all. Otherwise, It's just some unpleasant thing that controls us as opposed to us controlling it.

So, again, can I forgive those who stubbornly refuse to ask? I certainly don't mean that they must come crawling to me, begging my forgiveness and that I will then condescend to grant it. No, I mean that their heart and mind must agree that they've done wrong and they must desire forgiveness with sincerity. We too must be ever ready to receive them and love them with a contrite heart and with no haughtiness or pride. We must, at the first sign, be ready to freely give the forgiveness they desperately need and we desperately need to give.

Now, can God forgive the unrepentant. The Holy Scriptures cry out, "NO!"

God's mercy is deep and wide, but if we simply refuse to drink the water, we will die of thirst. Remember the old adage about leading the horse?

Christ became our intercessor on the cross. He died that He might be the propitiation between God and man. He prayed, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." With that prayer to His Father, He granted forgiveness to every sinner who had ever breathed and those yet to draw breath. But what if we simply don't want His forgiveness? Is it possible to refuse the God of the Universe?

Studies by smarter men than me calculate that every time we inhale, we inhale a molecule of oxygen that Christ exhaled with His dying breath. Mind boggling! 

Imagine if a man simply refused, for whatever reason, to inhale. If he could somehow just stop breathing. He would die and that very quickly!

It's a simple and inadequate metaphor, but so many treat God's grace the same way. It's there for us to simply inhale, but pride, earthly desires, lusts, anger and a myriad of other devices lead men to hold their breaths like spoiled little toddlers until it's too late. They refuse to breath; so they die.

Hell is full of those who refused the offer of salvation. 

Yes, it's a heady thought, but we can actually refuse this great gift of mercy and forgiveness. We can refuse God's love. We can refuse His forgiveness. We can refuse to love God. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be love, would it?

If you believe you can forgive the unrepentant, aren't you saying you have power that God on His Throne does not? No Christian would say that God forgives without confession and repentance, so, why do we say we can? Why do people stubbornly hold onto the idea that we can forgive those who have unrepentantly wronged us? 

After years of prayer and study on the matter, I believe I've come up with an answer. It may not be THE answer, but if I had to say yes or no, I'd say it is. 

If you can forgive me without my confession and repentance, then it follows suit that God can do the same for you. No confession. No repentance. No change in attitude. Just forgiveness. Unrequested and irresistible. And very, very convenient!

Now, isn't that a way to live? No repentance and no remorse. Just go on with your life as you always have and God will just forgive and forgive and forgive. That, my friend, is the way to Hell!

Sure, no one who believes in one-sided forgiveness is going to agree with my assessment, but two plus two still equals four. If I don't need to repent, then neither do you. Anything else is illogical and denial of intent.

Papa encouraged Mack to repeat the words, "I forgive you," to the perpetrator, who wasn't even around to hear the words. He told him that he would have to say it many times until he could truly forgive, but that that was the way to begin. Ya know, as if the words are a mantra and, if oft repeated, will help you reach nirvana.

Papa even explains, in, I'll call it, the discovery scene, that "forgiveness doesn't create a relationship." Really? How can someone have a relationship with me when I've hurt them and won't admit it? In all fairness, the movie doesn't explain this hypothesis as well as the book. Still, though forgiveness is certainly the first step in a relationship, it is the most essential part of it. I cannot be an unforgiven child of God and neither will God force His forgiveness on me.

Words mean things. Or they mean nothing.

Forgive means forgive. Forgiveness is not about me; it's about the sinner. The offender. It's not about making me feel better; it's about granting pardon to a wrongdoer.

Forgive! Forgive freely, readily and quickly. 

Most of all, pray. Pray! And then pray some more. Maybe after enough prayer, you'll shut up and start listening. 

Then, when things make no sense and the pain just seems to continue, if you look around you'll see One on a cross beside you promising He'll be with you to the very end. 

And then...Paradise!

p.s. In writing something of this nature, the hardest part, perhaps, is looking inward. I try to sincerely ask myself if I'm only giving reasons in vain hope of begrudging forgiveness to those who've hurt me and mine. 

All I can do is pray and hope that I'm being open and honest. I'm only trying to point out that, for us lowly humans, forgiveness is difficult at best. And it needs to be the real deal!

Father God, on the other hand, is an expert at forgiveness. Of course, that's what makes Him special.

Yeah, if you think forgiveness was easy for Him, allow the Holy Ghost to remind you of just what it took to enable Him to forgive us pitiful sinners.