The Gospel According to Lost: Ask Chris Seay

As I’m writing this, I’m filled with exuberant anticipation as the second week of the final season of Lost is minutes from airing on the West Coast. I’m usually tweeting away this time of day. But my phone is off and I won’t be looking at Facebook and Twitter updates for the next few hours to avoid spoilers from the rest of the U.S.

This is the season that’s supposed to answer questions, and after the premiere, we have more questions than ever.

By now, you’ve either stopped reading this post or you’re ready to geek out with me. So let’s geek out.

What’s your Lost theory?

Are Jacob and the unnamed Man in Black…God and the devil, human but with special powers from the ol’ island, or something in between? Is there a biblical Jacob/Esau connection?

If you were a Lostie, who would you be and why?

Speaking of questions, Chris Seay in The Gospel According to Lost explores what the enigmatic TV series has to say about…

• the clash between faith and reason, on the island and in real life;
• the struggle with guilt that consumes each character–and sometimes us too;
• the dichotomy between fatalism and fate, and what the Bible advises;
• how being lost–on an island or in society–presents an opportunity for reinvention that liberates some and paralyzes others.

The book is also filled with amazing paintings of ‘The Saints of Lost.’ Tomorrow night, I interview Chris, a church planter, pastor, president of Ecclesia Bible Society, an internationally acclaimed speaker, and all-around great human being. You might remember him from episode 35 of Homebrewed Christianity. I’m a little excited.

So what questions do you want me to ask Chris? Leave them in the comments and I will ask them, or even better, ask them in your own voice. To do this, call 678-590-BREW and leave a message.

I asked this on Twitter the other day and got a great question from Collin Moody to start us off.

@chadcrawford You should ask him what biblical narrative is most coherent with Lost for him.

C’mon geek out.

‘Live together, die alone.’