I chill with Jesus and Beethoven a lot these days.
See, I live between a Baptist church and a Methodist church, and across the street from something called the Assembly of God (…aren’t they all?) There are at least half a dozen other churches in town, including a Mormon meeting house, and even an historic synagogue! The best part about there being that many houses of worship per square mile seems to be that they all have to compete for attendance (I guess), so they go pretty far above and beyond with the creativity on their signboard messages.
The Presbyterians win so far…
My first week:
–“God didn’t create anything without a purpose, but mosquitoes come close!”
[*NOTE: The county Fair was this week, and my street had been backed up to a stand-still for hours at a time]
–“Keep taking my name in vane [sic], and I’ll make more fair traffic! -God”
(I especially like that this slogan had a signature. I mean, how else would I know it’s not the DEVIL writing those signs?!?)
“Eternity is a long time to think about what you should have done.” (Methodists) (I feel that this one would be enhanced by a small battery-powered stereo placed behind the sign, playing an ominous DUM-DUM-DUMMMM…)
“Every sermon is different. We leave the repeats to TV.” (Presbyterians)
Also, the Methodists fixed “vane” at some point last week–I noticed that it said “vain” on Friday. That made me smile.
My conclusion is that the Baptists and the Assembly of God really need to step it up! So far, all they have posted is their weekly service times. And some of the letters are falling off.
Then again, the only church I’ve actually stepped foot in so far is the Episcopal church (on the next block). Their board only lists the reverend’s name and the service schedule. But I go there to play the piano–they have a beautiful auburn-colored Steinway baby grand. The reverend is married to one of our editors, has twinkly eyes, and brings his enormous golden Labrador retriever with him to church every day! There’s usually no one there by the time I go over to practice after work, though–no dogs, no people–just peace and velvety-scented quiet. Just me and the piano, some tortured-looking folks in the stained glass, Jesus up at the altar, of course, and Beethoven.