Opinion: Signs of doom make me uncomfortable

Last week, an old high school buddy of mine passed through town, and stopped by for a brief chat before heading back to Lubbock. My friend, Run E. Boughs, whom I haven’t seen in 45 years, asked me if folks here expect the world to end on December 21.

Please note that Run didn’t ask how I’ve been doing over the last 45 years or so, or anything else for that matter. He’s never been much of a conversationalist, preferring to get straight to the point. Run considers anything more than a sentence or two to be an unneeded waste of time and air.

“So, what’s up with all those black signs warning us about the imminent arrival of Jesus?” Run asked. I attempted to explain to him that we have a guy, supported by a few of the local citizens, who has taken it upon himself to make sure that everyone has had the opportunity to “be saved” prior to coming of the Lord, apparently sooner than I expected. I’ve always figured that the Parousia will come sometime in the next four and a half billion years, give or take, and haven’t worried too much about it.

Run then asked, “What about those sewer pipe crosses, are they part of the deal-e-o?”

“Yep,” I replied, “the same guy.”

“Wow! That old boy has spent some serious money getting his message out.” Run said.

I agreed and added that I’m of the opinion that those signs and crosses make some sort of statement about our fair community, but I’ve been unable to decide what I really think of the signs and crosses. The signs make me uncomfortable, and not for the peril to my soul. Actually, I’m embarrassed to admit that I think they are tacky, and I wonder if my attitude about their appearance smacks of elitism. I suppose that I would better appreciate the plastic crosses more if they were made of more traditional material, perhaps a nice grade of well-worked redwood.

Regarding the messages on the signs, I’m sure that Oklahoma must now be freezing over because I actually agree with Chris Moore on something. This situation has caused my intestinal tract to run amok, much like a mule with its tail on fire. Fortunately, before too long, this too shall pass.

Evangelical Christianity is not my cup of tea, and I’m uncomfortable with flagrant displays of intimate religious thought. Yet, I’m also a fervent believer in the freedom of speech and the freedom to practice our religion as we deem fit. Fewer signs, with softer messages may be more appropriate.

Run said that he figured that most folks would not be offended by the preaching as they drive through Clarendon, and if they are then they don’t have to stop. They can always buy gas and eat in Childress or Amarillo.