The Shack

by William Paul Young

  “The darkness hides the true size of fears and lies and regrets,” Jesus explained. “The truth is they are more shadow than reality, so they seem bigger in the dark. When the light shines into the places where they live inside you, you start to see them for what they are.”

  “But why do we keep all that crap inside?” Mack asked.

  “Because we believe it’s safer there. And, sometimes, when you’re a kid trying to survive, it really is safer there. Then you grow up on the outside, but on the inside you’re still that kid in the dark cave surrounded by monsters, and out of habit you keep adding to your collection. We all collect things we value, you know?”

  This made Mack smile. He knew Jesus was referring to something Sarayu had said about collecting tears. “So, how does that change, you know, for somebody who’s lost in the dark like me?”

  “Most often, pretty slowly,” Jesus answered. “Remember, you can’t do it alone. Some folks try with all kinds of coping mechanisms and mental games. But the monsters are still there, just waiting for the chance to come out.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “What you’re already doing, Mack—learning to live loved. It’s not an easy concept for humans. You have a hard time sharing anything.” He chuckled and continued, “So, yes, what we desire is for you to ‘re-turn’ to us, and then we come and make our home inside you, and then we share. The friendship is real, not merely imagined. We’re meant to experience this life, your life, together, in a dialogue, sharing the journey. You get to share in our wisdom and learn to love with our love, and we get… to hear you grumble and gripe and complain, and…”

  Mack laughed out loud and pushed Jesus sideways.

  “Stop!” Jesus yelled and froze where he stood. At first Mack thought he might have offended him, but Jesus was looking intently into the water. “Did you see him? Look, here he comes again.”

  “What?” Mack stepped closer and shielded his eyes to try to see what Jesus was looking at.

  “Look! Look!” shouted Jesus in a hushed sort of way. “He’s a beauty! Must be almost two feet long!” And then Mack saw him, a huge lake trout gliding by only a foot or two beneath the surface, seemingly oblivious to the commotion he was causing above him.

  “I’ve been trying to catch him for weeks, and here he comes just to bait me,” he said with a laugh. Mack watched, amazed, as Jesus started to dodge this way and that, trying to keep up with the fish, and finally gave up. He looked at Mack, excited as a little kid. “Isn’t he great? I’ll probably never catch him.”

  Mack was bewildered by the whole scene. “Jesus, why don’t you just command him to… I don’t know, jump into your boat or bite your hook? Aren’t you the Lord of creation?”

  “Sure,” said Jesus, leaning down and running his hand over the water. “But what would be the fun in that, eh?” He looked up and grinned.

  Mack didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He realized how much he had come to love this man, this man who was also God.

  Jesus stood back up and together they continued their meandering toward the dock. Mack ventured another question. “Can I ask, why didn’t you tell me about Missy earlier, like last night, or a year ago, or…?”

  “Don’t think we didn’t try. Have you noticed that in your pain you assume the worst of me? I’ve been talking to you for a long time, but today was the first time you could hear it, and all those other times weren’t a waste either. Like little cracks in the wall, one at a time but woven together, they prepared you for today. You have to take the time to prepare the soil if you want it to embrace the seed.”

  “I’m not sure why we resist it, resist you so much,” Mack mused. “It seems kind of stupid now.”

  “It’s all part of the timing of grace, Mack,” Jesus continued. “If the universe contained only one human being, timing would be rather simple. But add just one more, and, well, you know the story. Each choice ripples out through time and relationships, bouncing off other choices. And out of what seems to be a huge mess, Papa weaves a magnificent tapestry. Only Papa can work all this out, and she does it with grace.”

  “So I guess all I can do is follow her,” Mack concluded.

  “Yup, that’s the point. Now you’re beginning to understand what it means to be truly human.”

  They reached the end of the dock and Jesus leaped up onto it, turning to help Mack. Together they sat down at its end and dangled their bare feet in the water, watching the mesmerizing effects of the wind on the surface of the lake. Mack was the first to break the silence.

  “Was I seeing heaven when I was seeing Missy? It looked a lot like here.”

  “Well, Mack, our final destiny is not the picture of heaven that you have stuck in your head—you know, the image of pearly gates and streets of gold. Instead, it’s a new cleansing of this universe, so it will indeed look a lot like here.”

  “Then what’s with the pearly-gates-and-gold stuff?”

  “That stuff, my brother,” Jesus began, lying back on the dock and closing his eyes against the warmth and brightness of the day, “is a picture of me and the woman I’m in love with.”

  Mack looked at him to see if he was joking, but it was obvious he wasn’t.

  “It is a picture of my bride, the church: individuals who together form a spiritual city with a living river flowing through the middle, and on both shores trees growing with fruit that will heal the hurts and sorrows of the nations. And this city is always open, and each gate into it is made of a single pearl…” He opened one eye and looked at Mack. “That would be me!” He saw Mack’s question and explained, “Pearls, Mack. The only precious stone made by pain, suffering, and—finally—death.”

  “I get it. You are the way in, but—” Mack paused, searching for the right words. “You’re talking about the church as this woman you’re in love with; I’m pretty sure I haven’t met her.” He turned away slightly. “She’s not the place I go on Sundays,” Mack said, more to himself than to Jesus, unsure if that was safe to say out loud.

  “Mack, that’s because you’re seeing only the institution, a man-made system. That’s not what I came to build. What I see are people and their lives, a living, breathing community of all those who love me, not buildings and programs.”

  Mack was a bit taken aback to hear Jesus talking about church this way, but then again, it didn’t really surprise him. It was a relief. “So how do I become part of that church?” he asked. “This woman you seem to be so gaga over.”

  “It’s simple, Mack. It’s all about relationships and simply sharing life. What we are doing right now—just doing this—and being open and available to others around us. My church is all about people, and life is all about relationships. You can’t build it. It’s my job, and I’m actually pretty good at it,” Jesus said with a chuckle.

  For Mack these words were like a breath of fresh air! Simple. Not a bunch of exhausting work and a long list of demands, and not sitting in endless meetings staring at the backs of people’s heads, people he really didn’t even know. Just sharing life.

  “But, wait—” Mack had a jumble of questions starting to surface. Maybe he had misunderstood. This seemed too simple! Again he caught himself. Perhaps it was because humans are so utterly lost and independent that they take what is simple and make it complex? So he thought twice about messing with what he was beginning to understand. To begin asking his jumbled mess of questions at this moment felt like throwing a dirt clod into a little pool of clear water.

  “Never mind” was all he said.

  “Mack, you don’t need to have it all figured out. Just be with me.”

  After a moment he decided to join Jesus, and he lay on his back next to him, shielding his eyes from the sun in order to watch the clouds sweeping away the early afternoon.

  “Well, to be honest,” he admitted, “I’m not too disappointed that the ‘street of gold’ thing isn’t the big prize. It always sounded a little boring to me, and not nearly as wonderful as being out here with yo
u.”

  Near quiet descended as Mack took in the moment. He could hear the hush of wind caressing trees and the laughter of the nearby creek as it spilled its way into the lake. The day was majestic, the take-your-breath-away surroundings incredible.

  “I really do want to understand. I mean, I find you so different from all the well-intentioned religious stuff I’m familiar with.”

  “As well-intentioned as it might be, you know that religious machinery can chew up people!” Jesus said with a bite of his own. “An awful lot of what is done in my name has nothing to do with me and is often, even if unintentional, very contrary to my purposes.”

  “You’re not too fond of religion and institutions?” Mack said, not sure if he was asking a question or making an observation.

  “I don’t create institutions—never have, never will.”

  “What about the institution of marriage?”

  “Marriage is not an institution. It’s a relationship.” Jesus paused, his voice steady and patient. “Like I said, I don’t create institutions; that’s an occupation for those who want to play God. So no, I’m not too big on religion, and not very fond of politics or economics either.” Jesus’ visage darkened noticeably. “And why should I be? They are the man-created trinity of terrors that ravages the earth and deceives those I care about. What mental turmoil and anxiety does any human face that is not related to one of those three?”

  Mack hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to say. This all felt a little over his head.

  Noticing that Mack’s eyes were glazing over, Jesus downshifted. “Put simply, these terrors are tools that many use to prop up their illusions of security and control. People are afraid of uncertainty, afraid of the future. These institutions, these structures and ideologies, are all a vain effort to create some sense of certainty and security where there isn’t any. It’s all false! Systems cannot provide you security, only I can.”

  Whoa! was all Mack could think. The landscape of how he and just about everyone he knew had sought to manage and navigate their lives was being reduced to little more than rubble. “So…” Mack was still processing and not really coming up with much. “So?” He turned it back into a question.

  “I don’t have an agenda here, Mack. Just the opposite,” Jesus said. “I came to give you life to the fullest. My life.” Mack was still straining to understand. “The simplicity and purity of enjoying a growing friendship?”

  “Uh, got it!”

  “If you try to live this without me, without the ongoing dialogue of us sharing this journey together, it will be like trying to walk on the water by yourself. You can’t! And when you try, however well intentioned, you’re going to sink.” Knowing full well the answer, Jesus asked, “Have you ever tried to save someone who was drowning?”

  Mack’s chest and muscles instinctively tightened. He didn’t like remembering Josh and the canoe, and the sense of panic that suddenly rushed back from the memory.

  “It’s extremely hard to rescue someone unless he is willing to trust you.”

  “Yes, it sure is.”

  “That’s all I ask of you. When you start to sink, let me rescue you.”

  It seemed like a simple request, but Mack was used to being the lifeguard, not the one drowning. “Jesus, I’m not sure I know how to—”

  “Let me show you. Just keep giving me the little bit you have, and together we’ll watch it grow.”

  Mack began to put on his socks and shoes. “Sitting here with you, in this moment, it doesn’t seem that hard. But when I think about my regular life back home, I don’t know how to keep it as simple as you’re suggesting. I’m stuck in that same grasp for control everyone else is. Politics, economics, social systems, bills, family, commitments… it can all be a bit overwhelming. I don’t know how to change it all.”

  “No one is asking you to,” Jesus said tenderly. “That is Sarayu’s task, and she knows how to do it without brutalizing anyone. This whole thing is a process, not an event. All I want from you is to trust me with what little you can, and grow in loving people around you with the same love I share with you. It’s not your job to change them, or to convince them. You are free to love without an agenda.”

  “That’s what I want to learn.”

  “And you are.” Jesus winked.

  Jesus stood up and stretched, and Mack followed.

  “I have been told so many lies,” he admitted.

  Jesus looked at him and then with one arm pulled Mack in and hugged him. “I know, Mack, so have I. I just didn’t believe them.”

  Together they began the walk down the dock. As they approached the shore, they slowed again. Jesus put his hand on Mack’s shoulder and gently turned him until they were face-to-face.

  “Mack, the world system is what it is. Institutions, systems, ideologies, and all the vain, futile efforts of humanity that go with them are everywhere, and interaction with all of it is unavoidable. But I can give you freedom to overcome any system of power in which you find yourself, be it religious, economic, social, or political. You will grow in the freedom to be inside or outside all kinds of systems and to move freely between and among them. Together, you and I can be in it and not of it.”

  “But so many of the people I care about seem to be both in it and of it!” Mack was thinking of his friends, church people who had expressed love to him and his family. He knew they loved Jesus, but he also knew they were sold out to religious activity and patriotism.

  “Mack, I love them. And you wrongly judge many of them. For those who are both in it and of it, we must find ways to love and serve them, don’t you think?” asked Jesus. “Remember, the people who know me are the ones who are free to live and love without any agenda.”

  “Is that what it means to be a Christian?” It sounded kind of stupid as Mack said it, but it was how he was trying to sum everything up in his mind.

  “Who said anything about being a Christian? I’m not a Christian.”

  The idea struck Mack as odd and unexpected, and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning. “No, I suppose you aren’t.”

  They arrived at the door of the workshop. Again Jesus stopped. “Those who love me have come from every system that exists. They were Buddhists or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims; some are Democrats, some Republicans and many don’t vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions. I have followers who were murderers and many who were self-righteous. Some are bankers and bookies, Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians. I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want to join them in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved.”

  “Does that mean,” said Mack, “that all roads will lead to you?”

  “Not at all.” Jesus smiled as he reached for the door handle to the shop. “Most roads don’t lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you.” He paused. “Mack, I’ve got some things to finish up in the shop, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

  “Whatever you want, Mack. The afternoon is yours.” Jesus patted him on the shoulder and grinned. “One last thing: remember earlier when you thanked me for letting you see Missy? That was all Papa’s idea.” With that he turned and waved over his shoulder as he walked into the workshop.

  Mack knew instantly what he wanted to do and headed for the shack to see if he could find Papa.

  13

  A MEETING OF HEARTS

  Falsehood has an infinity of combinations, but truth has only one mode of being.

  —Jean-Jacques Rousseau

  As Mack neared the cabin he could smell scones or muffins or something wonderful. It might have been only an hour since lunch due to Sarayu’s time-dimensional thingy, but he felt as if he hadn’t eaten in hours. Even if he had been blind he would have had no trouble finding his way to the kitchen. But when he came in the back door he was surprised and disappointed to discover the place empty. “Anyone
here?” he called.

  “I’m on the porch, Mack.” Her voice came through the open window. “Grab yourself something to drink and come join me.”

  Mack poured himself some coffee and walked out onto the front porch. Papa was reclining in an old Adirondack chair, eyes closed, soaking in the sun. “What’s this? God has time to catch a few rays? Don’t you have anything better to do this afternoon?”

  “Mack, you have no idea what I’m doing right now.”

  There was another chair on the opposite side, so he stepped over to it and as he sat down she opened one eye. Between them on a small end table sat a tray full of a rich-looking pastry with fresh butter and an array of jams and jellies.

  “Wow, this smells great!” he exclaimed.

  “Dive in. It’s a recipe I borrowed from your own great-great-grandma. Made it from scratch too.” She grinned.

  Mack wasn’t sure what “made it from scratch” might mean when God was saying it and decided to leave well enough alone. He picked up one of the scones and bit into it without anything on it. It was still warm from the oven and fairly melted in his mouth.

  “Wow! That is good! Thank you!”

  “Well, you’ll have to thank your great-great-grandma when you see her.”

  “I’m rather hoping,” Mack said between bites, “that won’t be too soon.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Papa said with a playful wink and then closed her eyes again.

  As Mack ate another scone he groped for the courage to speak his heart. “Papa?” he said, and for the first time calling God “Papa” did not seem awkward to him.

  “Yes, Mack?” she answered as her eyes opened and she smiled with delight.

  “I’ve been pretty hard on you.”

  “Hmmmm, Sophia must’ve gotten to you.”

  “Did she ever! I had no idea I had presumed to be your judge. It sounds so horribly arrogant.”

  “That’s because it was,” Papa responded with a smile.

  “I am so sorry. I really had no idea…” Mack shook his head sadly.