Last Friday night, my husband and I joined a crowd of snuffling, shaking, teary eyed strangers watching The Shack. I  purposefully didn’t wear mascara and brought lots of Kleenex, but halfway through the movie I just gave up and let the tears flow. I’m a crier, and normally I feel a bit self-conscious blubbering in a public theater; but on Friday night, I was just one of the bunch. With my husband silently shaking to my right and an unknown man in his 50’s sobbing to my left, I felt right at home. What I loved about The Shack: I LOVE that God is not in a box. Watching The…