The Shack: A Novel by William P. Young

Where tragedy confronts eternity.
What would you do if God sent you a note, asking you to meet Him at the shack where your daughter was murdered? That’s exactly what happened to Mackenzie Allan Phillips. But let’s backtrack a bit. The Phillips’ were the average family; a loving and devoted couple, three beautiful children. They believed in God, knew Him personally, went to church on Sundays and read the Bible regularly. The idyllic life is turned upside down when Mack and Nan’s daughter Missy is kidnapped and murdered. Actually, she is one of the victims of serial killer known as the Little Lady Killer. He targets little girls, kidnaps them and kills them. The FBI stumbles upon a shack, where there is blood on the floor. It is determined that the blood belonged to Missy and that she is dead. Three and a half years pass and the Phillips family is still struggling to come to terms with little Missy’s death. Nan is devout in her faith as ever; in fact, she constantly refers to God as "Papa." The oldest daughter is having difficulties though. And whatever faith Mack had before the murder is now lost.
That’s when Mack receives an unmarked envelope, with a note inside. The Author of the note asks Mack to meet Him in the very shack where Missy was murdered. At the bottom of the paper it’s signed, "Papa." Mack comes to the conclusion that "Papa" is actually God. He speaks to his friend Willie (who in fact is the author of this book) and the two discuss the possibility of God actually contacting him personally. While he is skeptical of God, on some level Mack’s curiosity piqued and he believes that God might be there. He waits until his wife and children are spending the weekend elsewhere when he takes off and travels to the remote shack. The bloodstain on the floor is still there, but God is nowhere to be found. Enraged, Mack destroys any object he can get a hold of. He steps outside briefly and the entire area is suddenly transformed into a little piece of heaven. When he goes back to the shack, a black woman answers the door, introducing herself as Elousia…a.k.a.- God. But it’s not just God the father who’s there, the whole Trinity is inside. God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are not what you imagine… as mentioned before God appears as a black woman, Jesus is an average looking guy clad in blue jeans and the Holy Spirit is a free spirit Asian woman.
Not to give away any of the great parts, I’ll leave it at that. "The Shack" is not your average Christian novel, actually it is the exact opposite of what I expected. I can’t recall any Scriptures in the novel, in fact at one point Jesus declares that He wasn’t a Christian, but that He is the answer. Mack is still devastated over his daughter’s death, and the Trinity encourages him to be open and honest about what he feels. Each of Them comforts him in Their own way. Neither of Them are taken back when Mack curses or explodes in anger. Each Member of the Trinity is endearing and left this reader feeling as though she has a deeper understanding of God. I smiled and cried as I read through Mark’s experiences. Many of my own questions that I didn’t even know that I had were answered. I find myself thinking back and snickering over certain incidents in the story, especially when Jesus is a butterfingers.
The author writes an introduction and then a little epilogue, insisting that he is merely ghostwriting the story of his friend. That his friend Mack’s daughter was kidnapped and murdered, his friend received a letter from "Papa" and that he did go to the shack and had a life changing experience there. Mack delved into a deeper relationship with Christ, discovered the location of Missy’s remains, and intended to witness to the Little Lady Killer. Whether this novel is true or not, doesn’t matter to me. I would recommend this book to anyone and everyone, as long as they keep in mind that this book is not for the faint at heart. I dare anyone to read this without walking away and feeling different. The story is heart wrenching, yet inspirational, even for those who don’t believe.

Anxiously Awaiting Part 1…

I’m not very good when it comes to writing about personal experiences. I can excel at book or movie reviews, political opinions or even fictional stories, but other than that, I shut up like a clam. Yet I’m tired of hiding the truth, fearing what others will think when they find out. In days of old, people with depression or mental problems were locked away in sanitariums and labeled as freaks. While I know that no one is going to have me committed, for me rejection is like a slap in the face, one that I can do without. Sympathy would be nice, but in reality all I want is to find someone who understands where I’m coming from.
Do you know what anxiety attacks are? I didn’t until 2002, when I started to have them. I don’t know what went wrong; growing up I was a little shyer than most, you could even call me a Nervous Nellie, but I was normal enough. As a preteen I was emotional but in the summer of 2001, I rededicated my life to Christ, life was a bit more enjoyable. By age fifteen, I thought about getting a job and figured that I’d eventually start studying for my learner’s permit. All that changed in January 2002; after a nasty case of indigestion, whenever I became nervous I’d get sick to my stomach and sometimes vomit. Gross, I know, but that’s what happened. It wasn’t bulimia; it’s not like I was intentionally making myself sick. I don’t know what it was and to this day I can’t explain it, but the thought of vomiting scared me to death that I worried about it all the time, to the point where I’d get nauseous about eating. It went on like that for a few months, until that summer. It seemed that I was doing better, aside from the fact that I cried easily. Because of my nerves I couldn’t get a job and driving was the last thing on my mind. I was never closer to God than I was then. My prayer life was never better and I read the Bible several times a day. During that time I also maintained a tiny, evangelical website called F.R.O.G. (Fully Rely On God), which was a welcome distraction considering what was going on in my personal life. It was that year I also wrote my first real story, a novella based on an old story passed down through the family. Actually, I went through several drafts of that work before setting aside for a period of time.
Then one Saturday in the latter part September, I was mowing the lawn and by the time I finished I was thoroughly exhausted. The rest of that day was a little off to me. The next day was Sunday and I woke up with my head in a whirl. I felt detached from myself; shaky, light headed, nervous. It was like I was having an out of body experience. If the wind was blowing, I’m sure it could have knocked me over. Despite all that, I went to church but then while we were singing I begged my mom to take me home and she did. I figured I was just having a bad day, but I woke up the next morning feeling the same way. And the next, and the next, and the next…
I pleaded with God to heal me. For awhile there I thought I was possessed or that I had a brain tumor and that I was wasting away, or that I was gradual losing my mind and that I would eventually go insane. I feared that I’d do something embarrassing or that I’d harm somebody. Mom was watching TV and heard this thirty-year-old guy on a talk show speak about how he went to the hospital thinking that he had a heart attack. In reality it was just an anxiety attack. From his symptoms, she was able to determine that I was probably suffering from the same thing. Several weeks passed and I didn’t get any better, actually I was getting worse. I’m sure my parents were at their wit’s end. Not only that, my dad had been unemployed for about a year, my grandma’s health was beginning to fail her… my nerves weren’t helping anyone. During that time my creative flow was stunted. I relied on God more and more, but was too tired to work on my website or my novella.
Mom did some research on the Internet and learned that anxiety attacks could be caused by hyperthyroidism. Dad and Mom brought me to the doctor and after the usual blood tests and a close-to-fainting spell in the lab area, he agreed that that I had a thyroid problem. That was a load off of my mind. I preferred to have a disease rather than have a psychological problem. I guess I’m the kind of gal who believes in pulling herself up by her bootstraps. Anyway, after his diagnosis, he scheduled a thyroid scan for me in January of 2003 and said he’d see me in a month, saying to enjoy the holidays.
Yeah, right…that whole month was crazy! Like a normal kid, I was excited about Christmas and for my sixteenth birthday. Christmas wasn’t bad, but on my birthday I was a basket case. I spent the whole morning in tears. Mom called the doctor and she was encouraged to put me on the Zoloft samples that the doctor had given us. The next week was an emotional blur for me. I was relieved to get that thyroid scan over and done with, that way I could get started on my medication. God decided differently. You know the old saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans for life." The scan and the blood test came back saying that there was NOTHING wrong with my thyroid! But my problems were far from over. Actually, it this was just beginning.
Part 2 coming soon…
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Please give me some feedback on this story. Comment and tell me what you think, give your opinion or let me know if you have had a personal experience.