The Morning After

Well, Harold Camping was wrong. Come to find out the world did not end last night at 6:00 pm. I suppose this means the estimated 200 million people (about 3% of the world's population) that his followers claimed would be raptured to heaven yesterday are probably waking up a bit disappointed this morning. To think this very moment they could have been traipsing along cloud tops with their great-great grandparents but are left, instead, to mow the lawn.

I joke but some people took this whole business very seriously. Faced with the awful task of a long distant move, some believers lightened their load by selling all their worldly possessions. Others, not wishing to get screwed by heaven's unfavorable currency exchange, decided instead to drain their savings accounts.

I prepared by not preparing. This was all a build-up to a party I knew I wasn't invited to anyway. Like the other 97% of the world's population I was just waiting for the righteous to leave so I could take to the streets afterward and raise a little hell. Literally.

But, alas, Harold Camping was wrong and now he is nowhere to be found. I can't wait to hear his excuse. Even more, I can't wait to hear the follow-up stories on those fools who sold their houses, left their families, or made pilgrimages to California to be near the wise soul who owns the multi-million-dollar Christian media empire.That empire, by the way, is sandwiched between an auto shop and a palm reader's store front.

I act as though I believe there will be some amount of vindication to be found in hearing their reactions. But of course there won't. Too many of them are blind followers who will be quick to rationalize this all as a test of their faith. I don't fault them their faith in a greater being. I do, however, fault them in allowing this greater being to be Harold Camping.

Searching for a Sign

Ainsley recently celebrated her seventh birthday. She invited a few friends over from school and from the neighborhood to play in her room, watch a movie, and sleep over. The running deal with each of the kids is that they can invite four or five friends over for their birthday - four for the boys and five for the girls. This may seem unfair but we've long observed that girls are much quieter - and gentler on our house - than boys. To further remedy this Muluken's last birthday sleepover was a "campout" in the backyard. The boys set up a tent near the garden in the back of our yard and despite the fact that the windows were closed, the air conditioner was running, and we had the television on, we could still hear them out there.

The boys' and girls' parties differ in one other way too - the unwrapping of the gifts. While the boys tear open one gift after another, paying no attention to the cards attached or who they are even from, the girls seem to read over each card carefully, smile, and offer a sincere thanks.

I can't blame the boys too much for this, though. I really don't like birthday cards either. I only half-heartedly read them. Then there's the question of how long I will have to keep the cards before dropping them into the recycling bin.

Perhaps the reason I don't like cards is that they're not very personal. If it were a blank card with a personal message, written from the heart, it would be one thing. Or if it were funny or wildly inappropriate (I once gave my sister a "Sorry your dog died" card for her birthday - demonstrating humor that evidently not many people find all that funny).

But what cards offer, instead, are corny poems and saccharine passages intended for every man - literally. It could easily be argued that greeting cards represent some of the worst writing to be found. And I would probably agree with this, too. At least, I would if there were no such thing as church signs.

Growing up in Granite City, Illinois, there were churches on nearly every corner. While most felt secure using their signs out front to advertise upcoming events and services, there were a dedicated few who reserved the use of the sign for messages. Some were inspirational, others were funny, a few were somewhat frightening, and many others were beyond my ability to understand.

Yet as bad as church sign messages often are I can't stop from reading them. It's like slowing to gawk at a car accident - you don't really want to see it but you're kinda curious.

So, with that in mind, I offer a few favorites and un-favorites...

Corny/Almost Too Predictable
God Answers Knee-Mail
Get rich quick. Count your blessings!
Forbidden fruit creates many jams
God wants full custody not just a weekend visit.
Fight Truth Decay...Study The Bible Daily
God grades on the cross, not on the curve
Autumn leaves - Jesus doesn't
Need a lifeguard? Ours walks on water!
Down in the mouth? It’s time for a faith lift




We'll Scare You Into Going to Church
A fire is HOT. The Sun is HOTTER. Hell will be the HOTTEST
A bad day at work is better than a good day in hell.
If you think it's hot now, just wait
ETERNITY: smoking, or non-smoking?



Too Long or Difficult to Understand While Driving
Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.
Coming soon: Manufacturers recall. Are you ready???



Gives Me the Creeps
God: The perfect lover



Really? You thought THAT was a good idea?
A good place for the "buck to stop" is at the collection plate.



Trying Too Hard to be Hip
Always remember that Hell is un-cool
Get off facebook and take out faith book



Stealing From Others (or: "Breaking our own commandments")
Got Jesus?
God is like Allstate, you’re in good hands
God is like Coca-Cola, he’s the real thing



Huh?
If man came from apes... Why are there still apes?



Kind of Clever
Google can't satisfy every search
God expects spiritual fruit, not religious nuts



Actually Pretty Funny
Now open between Easter and Christmas!
Honk if you love Jesus. Text while driving if you want to meet him.
FREE bread and juice inside!!!
Church. Cheaper than NFL tickets.


And then there's my favorite of them all...

"Cant sleep? Come hear a sermon."