Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

By Carol Harper

I’m kind of weird; I actually escape to the big city to relax. These days I seem to find more peace, wisdom and enlightenment in the city’s chaos than the quiet little Mayberry-like town I live in. I suppose there are different brands of chaos, and it’s good to get away from it once in a while. Still, I expect the unexpected and deal with life’s challenges, but sometimes it’s nice to take the time to float instead of tread.

On my way to Sacramento each week, I see many types of signs: Stop. Yield. Exit. Do not pass. Speed Checked By Radar. 65 Miles Per Hour. 55 Miles Per Hour. 45 Miles Per Hour. 35 Miles Per Hour. Road Work Ahead. Detour. Slow Children At Play (that sign still amuses me, for apparent reasons). “Vote For…” or “Re-Elect…” signs. “For Sale/Lease” signs in the front of vacant stores/buildings. Billboard signs that try to appeal to commuters to buy this, buy that, text this, text that, special today, discount this month. Yes, I’m a bit weary of the over-saturation and bombardment, but sign pollution is not a new problem:

Then some of the Pharisees and teachers of the law said to him,

“Teacher, we want to see a sign from you.”

He answered, “A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign.

But none will be given it except the sign of the prophet Jonah…”

(Matthew 12: 38-39)

Who knows if the legend of Jonah is true. Metaphorically speaking, I often feel like I’ve spent waay more days in the figurative whale’s belly than Mr. Jonah himself. Maybe the real story is that he had a bit of time to tread water and think about the unpopular marketing campaign he was about to deliver to Ninevah, but whomever he was, it seems to me that Jonah had his work cut out for him. For throughout the history of humanity, one thing has always been clear: The truth isn’t necessarily something people want to hear.

I believe prophesy to be mathematic, based upon the law(s) of probability. It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out that one might have to “Barney” it down for some of the masses still blinded by the same old tactics and schemes that religion and politics have plagued the world with for centuries on end. I myself have experienced a lot of needless chaos and drama in my own life, and I fully admit that there have been times where I’ve ignored the signs…of a bad marriage, relationship or friendship, a bad purchase, a bad move, heeding bad directions on both physical and figurative roads. I’ve hit plenty of bumps and potholes in my life, regretting many things that made me wonder why I’m still alive. Others experiences I had very little or no control over, such as receiving severe whiplash from being rear-ended by a city bus, or hospitalized and deathly ill with strep and pleurisy. Or when I was a passenger in the car of a friend of mine (ironically, an attorney) who opened a bottle of beer while driving and said, “It’s a stupid law, anyway.”

Sign, rules, laws…all meant to establish control and order, yet the truth is: No one has control. In this laughable “God versus man”-type of competition, I fail to see where fallible mortals would ever think to win it. Death comes to us all. Accidents happen. Earthquakes, floods, fire, tsunamis, solar flares, asteroid impacts, droughts, diseases and pestilences, you name it...pray all you want to whatever god(s) made your rules, but I’m thinkin’ there is Something a bit more in control of cause-and-effect than all of the “because we said so” laws, signs, icons, rites, rituals, rules and commandments that man uses in an attempt to define and compete. Yet millions upon millions still blindly heed those who assume hierarchal, cultish control, simply because they can and we let them. Why?

My boyfriend and I often enjoy our evenings outside, in the chaos of the city. On several quiet-noise evenings in the early Spring, he would say, “Just look at this tree. Wait until it starts to leaf. It’s wonderful…the shade, the privacy, the peace....” I did wait, and I do see, and have spent many mornings with my laptop and a cup of coffee (or two, or three) and write under its shade, its protection, its power and beauty.

“Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door. Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” (Matthew 24: 32-35)

I waited in anticipation for that tree to do exactly as my boyfriend promised, and it did! All the signs were there…the budding leaves, the tender twigs, and thought further: if there was only one sign that really mattered in the whole wide world, what would it be? Where or to what would it point? What are we all looking for? What were the Pharisees and teachers of the law demanding from Jesus; what do we demand? He said that there would be no sign given except for one, and Jonah was the referenced icon. As we read in Matthew 12, Jesus does make his point:

“… For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and now something greater than Jonah is here. The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom, and now something greater than Solomon is here.” Matthew 12: 40-41

In a world history riddled with destruction, violence, despair and death, and the vast amount of conquests that have been wrought to gain and maintain control…if there were nothing else in the world left to believe, there would be one sign that would be of value, at least to me:

The sign of hope.

A rare thing, hope. A lack of it can cause depression and despair. The falsifying of it can devastate trust and cause great cynicism. A pining for it can be a bit idealistic. Jesus wasn’t telling the Pharisees a riddle; he was “Barney-ing” it down for them in terms that even the most piously clueless could comprehend. There is hope, there is good news, “Light has come into the world…” (John 3:19) but you’re not going to find it in religion, politics, laws, rules and commandments, and the interpretations of such. You’re not going to find it in the stresses and worries of life, in the control or lack of it, and you’re not even going to find it by accident.

Hope is found in the living of life.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10

Even way back then, Jesus could see that the world was in need of hope. His life and death were no accident; it was a sign. Still today, we ignore the kind of hope Jesus offers by putting him some sort of “God in a box” defined and marketed by religion, freeing him whenever we think it might benefit us. What’s in it for me? What do I get out of believing in Jesus, in God, in life—in life after death? Prove to me that my life is going to be any better than it is now. Show me a sign.

Jesus did. His foretold, mathematically-calculated mission was to deliver hope. The world waited in anticipation for what was promised, and it was done, the sign was given. Ironically, Christianity has stolen it away. I don’t think Jesus’ intent was to have his life and teachings packaged and marketed into religious factions, denominations, ministries and conglomerates, into a cross symbol, a statue, a painting…or even into an idolized book. In fact, I think Jesus would be downright embarrassed and temple-cleansing angry. An artist, a carpenter—Jesus was someone who created and built with his own hands, and it continually amazes me as to how Christians and their beloved churches have become so blind to how very anti-Christ they are in their destruction of hope. Rather than considering and examining this, they get offended and go into denial at the very thought. Rather than admitting their exploitations, they spend much time justifying them. They ignore the Jonahs that might come along and bring a bit of truth to their ears. After all, how could anyone say that they aren’t Christian? How could anyone question their beliefs, their witness, their worship, their testimonies? Don’t their mega-churches prove otherwise? Don’t their membership increases and bottom lines prove otherwise? How could anyone question their leaders, their mentors, their pastoral degrees in religion and theology hanging on their office walls? Don’t their sermons inspire, their Bible studies edify and convince? Don't the sales of books, music and products at big box Christian bookstores prove success of their witness? So many ministries and missions, who needs independence? So many signs, beliefs, rituals, creeds and commandments, who needs faith? So many self-serving, who needs saving?

Now, each day I take time to pay attention to different signs—not the ones made by men in their desperate attempts to prove their own “truths” and the myriad of versions of it, but actual signs of life that not only strengthen faith but also gives real hope. I look at and admire those magnificent trees that give shade, watch and listen as a breeze rushes through their leaves. I watch the clouds float by, birds flying by and hawks soaring high. I look at a bee hover around a flower. I see an entire prism of colors– blue skies, green grass, pink petunias, yellow sunflowers, the reds and oranges in a magnificent sunrise or sunset. I breathe in the morning and evening air; watch the water on a pond or lake glisten in the evening sun, see the wind bend the tall grasses in a field. I look up at the stars at night; try to find the moon in whatever phase it might be in. I smile as I look into the faces of loyal, loving pets. I listen to my grand-daughter giggle or cry, listen to a fellow musician sing or masterfully play an instrument, hear the majestic sound of a rushing river. I smell the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, crushed garlic, bacon frying, the first rain of Spring, fresh bread coming from a local bakery, early in the morning, or the first smell of the crisp Autumn air. I watch the seasons change grey to green, from death to life...a deciduous process and power that I cannot give an answer as to why it happens, yet does in front of my very eyes, unexplained.

The signs I see point to Something that does not need packaging…and though the simple messages of truth and signs of hope might be squelched by today’s forces that be, I am grateful for the laws of nature and the signs that have remained true for millions upon millions of years.

See how the flowers of the field grow? They do not labor or spin.

Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.

If that is how God clothes the grass of the field,

which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire,

will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or

‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’

For the pagans run after all these things

and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness,

and all these things will be given to you as well.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

(Matthew 6:28-34)

“Sign, Sign, Everywhere A Sign…” Copyright © 2012 by Carol Harper. Permission to publish, contact: carolrharper@gmail.com