I thought I might jot down some of my experiences with God prior to my experience at the shack. Maybe it will help someone else to really understand where I was.
I grew up in a "christian" home. My dad was an elder at the church. He was an abusive alcoholic. He beat my mom, my siblings and me when ever something did not go his way. God letting this type of thing happen didn't really go with my idea of a good God who cared. When I was 13 I felt a need to confess to a church leader. I failed to think of what the church leader would tell my dad. By the time I got home my dad was in a rage, he beat me so bad I could not function for two weeks. I left there, ran away never to see him again.
I ended up going to seminary in Australia. That did not lead to much of anything. I attended church occasionally after that, I believed there was a God out there, I just did not see how he could have anything to with good and evil. Nothing in my life showed that God intervened for the good of his people.
I eventually married an amazing woman named Nanette. Her relationship with God was inspiring. She talked to God like he was right there and cared about every little detail of her life. I wanted to have that kind of faith, but I couldn't. She made it look so simple. She called God "Papa", like he was a loving caring father.
When Missy was kidnapped I blamed God for it. He could have stopped it, couldn't he have? A God who cared would not let aweful men do that to innocent little girls. Then I recieved the note.
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