I shut down my theological mind occasionally to be entertained by fiction. Lost intrigued me.
First the affirmation. The final image of Jack’s eye closing, a reversal of the show’s opening moment six seasons ago, was perfect. The sideways storyline with Desmond gathering the characters to reclaim their memories of the island was warm and emotional. But here it comes. The show's ending was disappointing and contrived, maybe inevitably. Oh of course it was a jolt to learn that Jack Shepherd was in fact dead as were all the other Losties. They had been dead all along. The Oceanic air disaster was really the end of their lives. When the entire island story line that grabbed us for six seasons turned out not to matter, that was deflating. All the island particulars were insignificant. All the tumultuous action and story twists turned out to be disconnected from that final quasi-religious resolution of the plot. Life on the island had been a supernatural post-death test and everyone who mattered was destined to pass, except for Ben, who stayed out in the parking lot. The island had been a post death prep school for all who would eventually pass into the vivid white light of afterlife. A pretty good yarn.
Have you considered that LOST has not concluded at all? That it is continuing in a parallel dimension, a sideways universe that is running concurrent to our own. That is what real LOST fans are thinking.
My reality is this. “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”