Dear Dad:
A book was published a while after you died. It was written by a missionary kid named Paul Young, and it was titled The Shack. It was a best seller for many weeks. Essentially, it told the story of a guy whose little girl was abducted from a campsite and raped and murdered in a little mountain shack. The father and mother never really recovered and as a last resort, the guy had an encounter with Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit back up in the mountains where the crime occurred. They had a day long discussion and quite a few more about what happened, why it happened, how the three big guys think, and lots of other stuff. Now Young took quite a few liberties with doctrine some folks might say. But the doggone book was just a novel. And a very good one. You would have liked it.
A little background. Young was a missionary kid and was abused and raped at a Christian and Missionary Alliance boarding school in Papau New Guinea along with a whole bunch of other innocent children. This was a case of those in charge, adult Christian men, not doing what is the most basic thing Christian men should do. Take care of children. Anyway, this was his way of dealing with the pain and grief of what happened. In the book, he ends up understanding forgiveness as an incredibly painful, but worthwhile, process.
I liked the book.
But quicker than an egg cooks on a hot griddle, some of my friends and some who were not, started instructing me on why this book was worthless. Turns out they were frauds as they actually had not read the book, but just read a review on some wacko Christian website that tells otherwise decent folks how to think. They took a NOVEL, and dissected it as a theology text. And they weren't even theologians. They were accountants, ironworkers, engineers, teachers, and who knows what? Young's not trying to upset your pastor or your statement of faith, he's just writing a book and making a lot of money. It's the American way...right?
So, anyway, after this disappointing little episode, I started noticing that every time I mentioned a preacher, an author, a blogger (you don't know what the heck that is, but don't worry about it. Most of 'em aren't worth a Treasury Bill), or anyone else that thinks a little. Every time I mentioned some book I liked, or sermon that inspired me...some Christian guy would start instructing me on why I shouldn't read this or that, listen to this guy or that guy, or whatever.
You name it, Dad, people argue about it. Tithing, speaking in tongues, worship songs, Sunday vs. Saturday church, and many others. You know what I think? It's the outcome of a whole bunch of content, lazy, rich Christian folks that have forgotten they're supposed to be lifesavers and decided they were kings instead.
You know what I mean, Dad. Just like the churches back in Tulsa, where rich guys run the show, and think it is more about organization and denomination, than saving souls.
You know what I say? *&%$ 'em all. I don't listen anymore. I talk with my wife, kinda like you did back in good ol' Tulsa, read the Bible, pray for understanding, and make up my own mind.
So, Dad, you're up there with Jesus, God, and the Holy Ghost. So I wanted to find out a couple of things about the other side. OK?
Are there jackasses in heaven? Or does everybody really have a good attitude to go along with their "goodbody?" Do people hang out with Jesus, God, and the Holy Ghost, and then start a discussion about the nature of the Trinity? Do folks try to speak in an unknown tongue right in front of the dudes who are omnipotent? Do men and women walk down the streets of gold and then let the collection plate pass by with hardly a glance? Do old rich guys try to draft up a Statement of Faith? Do you still fall asleep the end of the sermon? WAKE UP , OLD MAN!!! Do you look around and realize someone close to you is not there, and get sad that they're in hell?
I guess I should tell you, Dad. My shctick is self deprecation. I figured that if I can make everybody think they're smarter than me, then maybe they'll listen just to try and correct me. So I make fun of my Oklahoma roots, my education, and everything else. Works pretty good, Pops. Especially in Minnesota, where folks have a very high opinion of their intellect.
But you know what? You were a smart %$#@$#%%$@##, Dad. You knew it, and I knew it, too. So the next time you corner Jesus ask him my questions. Inquiring minds want to know.
And by the way, if Mom is there, tell her not to stop worrying about how she looks, everyone is perfect in heaven. Smile.
Until next time Pops.
Bill
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