The Shack and the Function of Narrative

As I mentioned in my previous post on The Shack, I do not intend to spend much time and space critiquing the theological and biblical content of this book. But even this week a member of my congregation asked what I thought of the book. So I do not think I can get away with saying nothing at all, although in that earlier post I linked to several sites that do a thorough job exploring and evaluating the doctrinal content of The Shack.

I found some good things theologically in The Shack. There were discussions of love and relationships within the Trinity that echoed Augustine and Jonathan Edwards, though Young takes those ideas and uses them to ascribe a lack of hierarchy in the Trinity that is simply inconsistent with Scripture -- just the relationship between the Father and the Son in John 17 poses problems for Young. He does very well in describing the sin of idolatry, and he is more honest about confronting evil in this world than much Christian fiction. For all of this he is to be commended.

But anyone who puts these words in the mouth of Jesus has to be prepared for scathing critique: "My life was not meant to be an example to copy" (on p. 149 of the edition I read). Compare Matt 16:24, Phil 2:5, and 1 Pet 2:21-25. Young never explains how Jesus' death reconciles the world to God, places the cultural phenomenon of anti-institutionalism in the mouth of Jesus, and borders on antinomianism and universalism. If he does not sail into the waters of modalism when he says that the Father and Spirit were on the cross with the Son, then at the very least he goes wading up to his knees. The book has big theological and biblical problems.

But my critique, however minimal, provokes an objection that I have heard frequently from those who love and endorse this book: "It's just a story, a piece of fiction. The book is not claiming to teach truth -- it's not a theology book. You are making too big a deal out of it. Besides, people are reading this book and connecting with God." This is probably the most common objection I have seen raised in defense of The Shack.

As I think about this objection, it seems to me that behind it lies one of three notions: (1) narratives do not present propositional truth, or (2) narratives are not subject to criticism regarding the truth they teach, or (3) propositional truth does not matter. Otherwise it is hard for me to see where the objection even comes from.

I will not at this point give a lengthy rebuttal of option (3) except to say that no one really believes it. If my wife says, "Pick up some milk on the way home," and I show up with bread instead and cite in my defense hermeneutical differences, I will quickly find out that propositional truth matters and is knowable. Nor will I engage in a lengthy critique of (1) because any study of history and literature proves it wrong. Margaret Atwood has said, "If you want to preach, write a sermon." But her own work The Handmaid's Tale "preaches" quite eloquently through the use of a science fictional dystopia. Abraham Lincoln famously quipped upon meeting Harriet Beecher Stow, "So you are the little woman who wrote the book that started this great war!" Stowe was the author of Uncle Tom's Cabin. Lincoln and his contemporaries understood very well what she was saying in that novel. Anyone who read my first post on The Shack knew how I felt about the book by the end of the second paragraph, even though I did not mention the book until paragraph three.

Propositional truth does matter, and novels communicate through the tropes of the genre truths that can be re-cast as propositions. After reading The Shack, I can state with great certainty that there are things that William Young wants his readers to believe to be true about God. And that leaves us then with option (2): narratives are not subject to criticism regarding the truth they teach.

Why do we use narrative? Almost everyone likes a good story. Narratives are universal. They help us develop meaning; we feel that we understand and can come to terms with both joy and suffering if we can place them in a narrative framework. We use them to communicate morality; when I want my daughter to understand a truth that is too complicated for her two-year old mind to grasp in propositions, I use analogies and stories instead. I love to preach narrative because truth comes home in a way that most people find accessible. Truth communicated in propositions can feel cold and bloodless; truth communicated in narrative has warmth and vitality. Propositions describe the world we live in, but our actual experience is a narrative, a story. So narrative has persuasive power that goes beyond intellectual engagement and touches something in the human heart and imagination.

Narrative communicates propositional truths in a way that most people find engaging. People like stories. And so I draw the conclusion that works of fiction such as The Shack are not less susceptible to criticism than theology textbooks, but rather that they should be subject to greater scrutiny because of the inherent power of story. The Shack gains no immunity from theological criticism because it is fiction. Rather we must exercise extra care in reading it because it is a story.

And in my next post I plan to talk about how the story of The Shack is developed.