Blocking Out the Scenery, Breaking My Mind

I pay attention to signs about me, particularly to church signs. I don't mean church marquees. I have never really been a fan of church marquees. Either they are used to put up cheesy expressions ("You think it's hot here?" during a Houston summer heat wave, for example) or they have dated information on them about the special event two weeks earlier. Marquees apparently provided practice for churches who would later fail to maintain their webpages. These signs seldom catch my attention. But others do.

I find the names of churches interesting, because these are not thoughtless. I imagine that behind these signs are committee meetings, probably several long ones, in which devout people considered what they would name the baby they were about to give birth to. What will we call our church? How do we communicate our identity? What will tell people who we really are?

"First Baptist" says something important. We are the pioneers who settled this area. We got here first and we are still here. Likely we'll still be here when you are gone. Do you want stability? Are you looking for tradition? This is the place to find it.

"Second Baptist" often says to me, "We are the folks who didn't really like First Baptist." It's not that we arrived later, its that when we got here we didn't really like what we found, so we started over. "Calvary Baptist" is reserved for the folks who left First and Second over an issue. Anyway, that's how I often read those signs. I'm probably wrong.

But really those are not such creative names. Neither are the names that identify with a given subdivision or geographical area. They are good names and it is well for them to say, "We belong here and we serve the people of this community." I belong to University Baptist in Waco myself. Early on it identified with a ministry to university students. That's solid. I served University Baptist in Houston, whose founders named it for the proximity to the University of Houston, Clear Lake. However, as history unfolded, I suppose we should have been called NASA Baptist, because our constituency was far more drawn from the aerospace industry than from the nearby campus. Those are well chosen, meaningful names. But not so creative.

I'm interested in those signs that say, "You should have been in the meeting where we chose our name!" For example, driving though Alabama several years ago we passed a church whose name demanded that I stop and get out my camera. "Perfect Alternative Baptist Church." Now that's a name with a story behind it. It tells a story of its founders' vision while saying some interesting things about the other churches in town. I wish I knew the other names offered before this one made it to the floor for discussion and received a majority approval.

Sometimes those signs present a name chosen to define the congregation as clearly as possible: "Pre-millenial, Calvinistic, Fundamentalist, KJV Only Baptist Church. Everyone Welcome!" While I have not seen a church with that particular name, I have noticed church signs with most of those designators on them. They do say something about the gospel preached there. It causes me to wonder about the meeting where the sign was designed and when it was decided that there were a sufficient number of adjectives. (BTW, the first Baptist congregation in Texas settled near Palestine as The Two-Seed-in-the-Spirit Predestinarian Baptist Church.)

Last week I received a text from a friend telling me she'd noticed an interesting church sign in East Texas. She promised to photograph it and send it to me on her return trip. She did. "Little Hope Baptist Church." I cannot decide on the story behind the name. Was this a group of people who, in the midst of a hopeless time, founded a congregation to offer to their world a "little hope"? Or were they a cynical, despairing group, hardly able to see the future, who had "little hope" themselves. If so, judging from the age of the sign, they survived longer than they expected. Was there a "Big Hope" or "Lotta Hope" church they broke off from? I cannot be sure. But the name lacks a bit in confidence.

Another friend of mine was making a motorcycle trip across the West and found a sign irresistible. He photographed it and sent it to me. I find intriguing. Certainly there must a nearby town called "Dinosaur." But the name of church offers such narrative possibilities. "Well, if we keep doing what we've been doing, it's pretty certain that we'll go out of business. We have no intentions of adapting to all these changes about us. It's just a matter of time before we no longer speak a language our culture can understand. We're on the way to extinction. I suggest we own that reality and call ourselves, 'Dinosaur Baptist Church.' All in favor?" This sign would be a more honest reflection of where many congregations find themselves these days.

It makes me wonder, when did the church find it necessary to erect signs to declare our identity. When did it cease to be enough to be identified as followers of Jesus, the people of God, the body of Christ, to be known by our love for him?

Back in October I was walking on the campus of the University of Texas in Austin and encountered a sign that required a camera. "Notice," it said, "Signs Have Changed." I was not certain what to do with this information. Its message was ambiguous. I did not know what the signs had previously said, so if I were expected to compare the new signs with the old ones, I was at a disadvantage. Did this message include this sign itself? Had it also changed? Had it previously said, "Notice, Signs are the Same," or "Some Signs have Changed." It was confusing.

I have finally opted for an interpretation that sees it as a philosophical/theological statement. The signs that designate God's people have changed. Like Adam in the Garden, we have taken on the prerogative of naming things about us, including the church. The names we have chosen have been helpful to point people to the location where we gather. The names differentiate us from others. The names clarify our commitments and focus so that when outsiders read our signs they have a sense of who we are. The names we have chosen, however, may miss the point. "By this," Jesus said, "shall all know that you are my disciples -- if you love one another as I have loved you." That seems to me to be the sign that has changed. I want to work at being a better sign to others along the way, pointing to God, God's love, God's Son, and God's people -- the church.