off of the soapbox

okay, so now we know i'm passionate about my profession... let's talk about books again.

i'm going to backtrack a little, because i think i built up this thing about the book The Shack. i finished it awhile ago, but didn't comment because of two main reasons:

1. i don't want to sound forced, preachy or self-righteous. the thing is, this book made me reconsider how i think about God in my life. more specifically, the way i sometimes feel distanced from Him. however, that it's my sin and my hostile, dissatisfaction with stuff that made me feel distanced. it's not that He has forsaken me since i've moved to idaho, but i made my idaho existence my own prison away from Him. my anger, disappointment and melancholy comes from how i have dealt with situations, and those are my walls--not His, or anyone else's, for that matter.


2. it convicted me in my sins--and who wants to hear about that? i certainly don't. it's those sins that isolate me from God and a lot of people in my life. it's the judgments i offhandedly make, when i'm actually not worthy of making of them. i mean, is it really necessary for me to snarkily comment about the woman at mall today who was far too old to be wearing the pink knock-off uggs with the pom-poms? or am i any better of a mother than the woman who is pregnant with yet another brat to add to her ill-behaving and poor-parented brood... just because they are buggin' me at every turn in the grocery store! in the wide scheme of things, let's take a look at the child has been heard to drop the f-bomb?! yeah, that would be my nine year old.
   

{big sigh} it's a good book--i love the imagery and imagination. i recommend it with caution--prepare yourself for serious introspection rather than a great literature experience.

happy reading!

three in one...

what would you do if you received a cryptic note from God asking you to meet him in the shack where your youngest child was brutally murdered?  

and what if you went to the said shack, and met a large african-american woman, a small asian woman, and a middle eastern man dressed as a carpenter... 

and when you asked them, "which one of you is God?"  all three of them said in unison, "i am."

this is where i am in this book by william paul young.  he's not the narrator, but a outside friend to mack who has just met God.  the description of his first meeting of the three was one of those things that bring tears to the eyes and goosebumps all over. 

of course, i'm sure there are sticklers out there questioning the doctrine of the whole personified trinity, but i can't imagine anything would be better than being enveloped in a warm and welcoming hug from a big woman who will hold me when i hurt, knows all of my sins and still loves me without judgement... unconditionally.

to me that is God.