-Christ on the Crossroads

"If he were to live again, in these modern days
He would find a way to make His works known--
to be advertised by His service, not merely by His sermons.
One thing is certain: He would not neglect the market place . . .
Jesus would be a national advertiser today, I am sure,
as He was a great advertiser in His own day.
He thought of His life as business.
--Bruce Barton, The Man Nobody Knows

The story begins with the launch of what has become a modern American phenomenon--the "God Speaks" sign campaign. These signs, the brainchild of an ad agency funded by a wealthy anonymous donor, first caught the attention of drivers and observers several years ago on south Florida highways. The ad executive charged with ghostwriting the divine word for the commuting masses, Charles Robb, was asked to write a series of bigger-than-temporal-life messages.

The $150,000 commission was to design a campaign, as Robb describes it, intended to ". . . reach people who had, for whatever reason, drifted away from the church or synagogue. The idea was to get people to think about their spirituality and having a relationship with God in their everyday lives." A quick drive around greater Orlando will demonstrate the popularity of the concept among church leaders across the community. God whispers His word at red lights, and holds forth over highways. Judging from the extraordinary popular success of the campaign, Mr. Robb and his undisclosed patron have indeed gotten folks thinking about their souls at that hum-drummest of places in our lives--between the from and to. At the height of the media buzz, Robb's signs saw airtime on several major prime-time and morning news shows. The "God Speaks" website, still putting out the electronic Word, and free screensavers, is a great place to check in on the latest billboards from the 2005 campaign.

In the year 2000, the "God Speaks" campaign became the national public service campaign of the year after the Outdoor Advertising Association of America (OAAA) donated space on 10,000 of its signs in some 200 cities across the United States. No doubt further fame, and clients, followed for Robb and his agency. The jump across the ocean to England, Australia and South Africa followed soon after.

In some markets, billboards and signs about salvation, sin and virtuous living might seem presumptuous, foreign and somewhat profane. The mixture of sales pitch and scripture, of butts-in-seats boosterism and save-your-soul pleas may srike some as alien and jarring, even after years of daily exposure. Even so, such messages are designed and delivered indiscriminately to all the commuters, passengers, shoppers and passersby on the road of life. Like any virus, these messages seek only more avenues to further spread the germ of life, the eternal kind. They seek opportune hosts who will seek other hosts who will seek hosts . . . and so on.

While the story begins with a well-funded and readily-endorsed campaign, its message lingers in spin-offs. These smaller messages, hosted by congregations large and small, dot America's roadsides. Painful, obvious, zealous or clueless, they speak to us where we are, challenging our actions, feelings and beliefs. The idea may have sprung from grassroots, or the seeds planted by Robb and the OAAA may simply have continued to prosper--in either case, the soil is fertile, and the bumper crop of highway bulletins shows no sign of abating. Since the OAAA's gift to the "God Speaks" campaign provided some $15 million dollars worth of exposure, that result was, perhaps, a foregone conclusion.

A preacher who confines himself to considering
how a medium can increase his audience will miss the significant question:
In what sense do new media alter what is meant by religion, by church,
even by God?
--Neil Postman, Technopoly

For all the differences, however, the signs share one element common to any form of advertising: They push a targeted group to change its mind, and by extension, its behavior--to make new and better choices in the marketplace of things, ideas and lifestyles. For commercial advertisers this can be a fairly precise matter, with categorizations extending to age, gender, combined age/gender metrics, geographical location, time slot, socioeconomic level, previous market behavior, brand loyalty and other increasingly fine distinctions between and combinations of factors.

For the spiritual merchandiser, whose "product" is by its nature universal in both appeal and applicability, the targeted market is, well, everyone. With the "God Speaks" signs, and their many imitators, that means just about anyone with a car and a destination. Charles Robb documented the phenomenon he inspired with the predictably named, though somewhat thin book, God Speaks. Witnessing for the inner backslider in us all, he shares his initial misgivings: "At the time I thought it somewhat ironic that I would be asked to work on an advertising campaign designed to reach . . . well, me . . . like a lot of people, my attendance at religious services had become pretty much limited to weddings and funerals". With his target market in mind, Robb launched a promotion that survives in various forms to this day, and he started it in a much more direct, incisive and certainly more successful way than previous efforts.

Had not Christ done whatever was necessary
to spread the word to people who had not heard it?
Subtlety was not his way. When Christ performed miracles,
he was deliberately making news.
It followed logically that religious leaders in the twentieth century
had to learn how to capture headlines.

--R. Laurence Moore, Selling God

A very imposing "God Speaks" sign could be found hanging several years ago on a large, stand-alone column in the center of a parking lot. The neighborhood in which it was found--warehouses, tattoo shops, strip bars and barbed-wire fences enclosing parking lots with foot-high weeds and broken brown bottles--might best be described as a light industrial sin strip. Clearly the sign was posted for some time before I found it, the individual panels receding at their edges, pulling away from the backing noticeably, even at a distance.

It was, perhaps, among the original group that hit Orlando when God started speaking through billboards to cities across the land through the good graces of the Outdoor Advertising Association of America.. For all that, it seemed to have stood up fairly well in a harsh Florida environment. The words and message were still larger than life and abundantly clear, as befits the Author. Alas, it didn't last forever. Resellers of wireless air time, after all, also need a moment to share the benefits of their services.

The lot stands beside and serves what promotional materials describe as a "resort". Less tolerant folks might describe it as a homosexual bathhouse with booze, food and entertainment--a modern day Sodom, and proud of it, thank you very much--a colorful oasis in an otherwise dried-out zone.

The sign and this section of town may have deteriorated in tandem as the barbed-wire fences stretched out along the roadside like silent witnesses. The message seems to have been placed in this environment intentionally, to spread the Word with humor, to change behavior where change might be needed most, where the drivers in passing cars perhaps speed toward some vice, or skulk away from its satisfaction. The Good News is for everyone, but some people seem to be just begging for a dose: "Let's meet at my house Sunday before the game. -God" The same words cycle onto many boards, smaller and simpler, posted in front of churches rather than alternative lifestyle resorts. Robb's work continues to spawn itself anew.

The message is, from a certain vantage point, one that some folks would certainly seem to need more than others. With a universal broadcast whose goal is to draw folks in, why not start in the place where that message seems most absent, with the folks furthest afield? That's where the four books find Jesus, after all - among the prostitutes, tax-collectors, working men and sinners of his time. Why not give Him a punch-line for the modern-day equivalents of His contemporaries? Perhaps some folks might even be convinced to catch a service or sing a remembered hymn from childhood before the strippers, prostitutes and/or sodomy.

The alacrity with which Social Gospelers embraced the slogans and tools of advertising,
financial growth, and efficient scientific management assumed almost apocalyptic significance.
Church leaders had to make themselves ready to lead the coming social transformations.
--R. Laurence Moore

Among those congregations seeking full pews and shared salvation, the signs are clearly an important tool. Churches spring up and die and out like dry-cleaning shops and restaurants, often in the same strip-mall settings, so getting the Word out remains an important part of fulfilling the mission, spreading the good news, and, at its basest, surviving. In a crowded marketplace, pastors see no alternative but to slug it out among cell phone deals, brake specials and two-for-one burger bargains. Some have even entered the age of the internet, listing church home pages for worshippers to visit for electronic enlightenment. The "God Speaks" folks have their site, and spun off a WUZUPGOD site, targeting spiritually disillusioned, soul-searching teens, speaking stunted hip-hop tongues.

A search of the world wide web using the term "church signs" yields impressive results, with more than 166, 000 hits. Anyone seeking suggestions for ideas, products for sale or a refrigerator magnet with a customized sign message will not have far to look. Helpfully, many of the vendors also provide books on sign usage as well as suggestions for messages to be placed on newly purchased signs, and convenient ways for folks to submit new ideas for text messages on their products.

Medium and messages are in easy reach of anyone who seeks them, as are criticism, praise and outright condemnation. Titled The Missing Ministry: Recapturing Church Growth Through Effective Church Sign Evangelism, W. Clayton Brumby's book promises to help pastors to "*dramatically increase your church's outreach *creatively engage the public on a personal level *avoid a cliquish "members only" impression *increase visitor traffic by building curiosity, trust and rapport in people you've never met".

As a senior sign consultant for a company catering to churches, if one can't describe Brumby as unbiased, he can at least be seen as expert. Replace the word "church" with "company" in Brumby's bulleted list, and one might position the book as a sales how-to--cars, cell-phones or commercial real estate. The commentary from those with nothing to sell ranges from sneering mockery to humorous acceptance and finally, to wholly uncritical endorsement.

Judging by the hundreds, possibly thousands, of sign-makers marketing to churches on the internet, there is clearly money to be made from those who would help Jesus treat His churches like franchises. From the Roman Catholics through the Baptists and assorted Methodists to the low-rent non-denominational storefront sect next to the discount cigarette store, there is a sign for them all, with more optional features than you can shake a scripture at. Anti-vandalism covers and locks are particularly popular.

Whatever the denomination, or the text under the shotgun-proof plastic, the hardware necessary to post a message to the world represents a fairly significant purchase, judging from the prices the on-line purveyors post on their sites--probably particularly so for a fledgling church struggling to make the strip-mall rent. Even the cheapest models, with no illumination or vandal-proofing, can start in the multi-thousand dollar range. One has to imagine that doesn't include installation costs. For an investment that significant, the return on investment, too, should be notable.

If he were here today,

St. Paul would be Madison Avenue.
--Bernard Cardinal Law, attributed

Hard sell or soft, church signs are designed to catch eyes, soften hearts and change minds. The goal seems to be more or less common in what one would expect from any Christian institution: clean living, acceptance of our suffering and sinful nature and ultimately, surrender of one's life to some Other-derived set of goals and standards. The Book, the Savior and the souls of the many are assumed.

The route, however, seems to vary wildly. Funny, patriotic, cryptic, silly, scriptural or down-to-earth, each group goes at the challenge of winning hearts and minds in its own way. The house has many mansions, the path many branchings, and a believer lots of spots to drop to his knees on Sunday morning and/or Wednesday night.

Whatever variety they may choose, American Christians constitute the vast majority of believers in the population. The numbers may change according to source, but Christians, in all their forms, are certainly a formidable force in the Unites States, no matter whose numbers are crunching. Like any good enterprise, the Christians and their signs are advertising, looking for expansion. Even in good times, they adhere to what Edward Abbey describes as the "cancerous madness" of expansion--growth for growth's sake.

With backsliding and temptation a constant threat and daily postmodern assaults on "traditional" values and belief systems, the proliferation of signs is perhaps not so surprising. They are proud banners of a defiantly held belief in a march through a changed, and changing, world. Whether one falls into step is a choice, and not such as an easy one as the signs would have us believe.

Once churches began to do something other than tending the faithful,

once they started beating the bushes in search of new members,

once they took on the holy mission of converting the world,

they were in the business of selling.

--R. Laurence Moore

Of course the easiest thing to sell is that which costs the consumer nothing. "Free", however, is a loaded word, and a slippery concept. It'll catch just about every eye driving by. What the advertiser does with that attention once captured will determine how consumers will behave once the sign is out of sight. It's never a bad idea to make folks laugh to keep their attention, and church signs can often inspire that response, if not always intentionally. Free, though, is still a relative thing, and once the chuckling stops, the commitment must start.

The price with faith is a lifestyle and a belief system that doesn't leave a whole lot of room for negotiation on the contract. Sure the trip might be free, but with the weekly seminar, the behavior restrictions before takeoff and an intense customs screening process once you get there, "free" can be pretty expensive, when you get right down to it.

The very prevalence of churches, and the signs that promote them, speaks to the many places and varied faces the Christian church shows the world. From the grandest edifice to the humblest rental space, there is no shortage of spots at which to worship. An online church directory for greater Orlando lists some 1,180 different organized places of worship in 39 distinct denominations, ranging from one lonely Quaker meetinghouse to a sprawl of 293 separate Baptist congregations--and those are just the ones that registered with that service.

The numbers will shift, certainly, with the population and times, but surely there are few places around these parts where a house of worship isn't just around the corner. With that much choice for the faithful, it becomes easier to understand a church's sign as both a marketing tool, and a way for that group to confer upon itself some legitimacy and permanence-- it's a way of saying, "We've arrived! Open for business!".

Some of the wealthiest entrepreneurs, of course, were dropouts in their youth, and some of the more successful denominations only got to build great cathedrals in the last place they didn't get chased out of. McDonald's started with only one store, after all, and "billions and billions" served was, once, just a handful.

Without a certain amount of self-promotion, any enterprise is bound to fail, particularly in a field crowded with competitors. When you believe in the service or product you provide, a desire to promote is natural, even inevitable. The cliché says the best salespeople are those who used the product first and fell in love, and in a sense, the pews are lined with God's own salesforce, ready to witness their successes and stories to the not-yet-saved. As a promotional tool, a sign is the cold-call to the world, a way to tell it on the crossroads. They open a dialogue with the public, and provide a way to share ideas that won't otherwise fall out of the sky on folks.

The primary goal was growth, presumably in the number of right-living Christians,

but more measurably in the size of the church buildings,

the range of church facilities, the variety of sponsored programs

and the amount of money in the collection plates. . . .

Constructing a good society required catchy publicity to ensure

that people made the best choices in product selection.

Christianity was a sound choice."

--R. Laurence Moore

With something as good as salvation to share with the world, one might think believers wouldn't have to push so hard, or would want to save some for themselves. But these are Christian folk, after all, dipping their ladles in a well that won't run dry. Like a kept promise, the benefit the members and pastors seek for themselves they just as freely seek to pass on to others--they get to keep what they give away freely. It's hard to find fault with such altruism, even when the delivery method seems a bit aggressive, a tad mercenary. One can't argue too much with success, however, and with many hundreds of outlets in a relatively small area, the business of Christianity is thriving in central Florida.

While it is perhaps crude to describe them in such bald terms, faith-based institutions are an integral part of the economic whole in which they operate. As employers, tax-free property-owners, operators of businesses and redistributors of vast sums of tithe money and, perhaps most importantly, arbiters of appropriateness in matters of suitable food, fashion, and media purchases for good believers, these institutions have a significant role in shaping and directing the flow of funds in this nation.

Christians and other faithful tread a fine line, however, in declaring "appropriate" ways for their fellows to spend money. A recent campaign to repurpose the WWJD question as What Would Jesus Drive? met with some fairly staunch opposition in the form of ridicule or worse, disregard. After the headlines and furor, the campaign sank in the sea of yesterday's news. Considered objectively, the approach was merely the What Would Jesus Do? challenge initiated by Charles Sheldon's In His Steps taken to its logical automotive end.

Unfortunately for the Environmental Evangelicals behind it, our national love of the hulking SUV limited the campaign's acceptance and effectiveness. Apparently, one can tell folks they can't buy liquor on Sundays or racy books at Wal-Mart, but daring to point out less clearly defined lines of personal responsibility in consumer choice crosses some even less well drawn line. If all the SUVs with fish decals in Orlando are any indication, at least the disciples would be going with Detroit steel, and lots of it.

A far safer approach to take in the marketplace is to sell things to Christians, as Christians, rather than trying to shame them out of purchasing gas-guzzlers. Encouraging consumption is certainly a better bet politically, and can fill up a bank account much more readily. There is certainly no lack of product or market. At a local level, the savvy Christian consumer might seek out a copy of "The Shepherd's Guide: The Christian's Choice of Yellow Pages" to determine how to connect with the best Christian septic tank service.

The eleventh edition of the guide for Orlando lists 88 pages of Christian businesses in 83 categories from magnetics and draperies to saunas and web-site design. The casual, freethinking observer can perhaps be forgiven for thinking that the inclusion of a clip-art fish symbol in an ad is little guarantee of fair dealing, and that, despite the challenge issued by Sheldon, commercial and Christian life will never coexist as peacefully and cooperatively as some might hope.

. . . there is nothing in the commercial exploitation of traditional symbols

that suggests an excess of piety is itself a vice.
Business is too serious a business for that,

and in any case has no objection to piety,
as long as it is directed toward the idea of consumption,
which is never treated as a laughing matter.

--Neil Postman

Not all the signs warrant the analysis or scorn they might receive. Matters of conscience and choice are important, but some of central Florida's pastors seem to realize that their broadcasts in block letters are opportunities for humor, goodwill and fun. The bite-sized beatitudes offered up are, cause for laughter or contemplation for commuters. In a time when the leading news item might be another forgotten child literally cooked in the afternoon sun of a closed car or the beat of war drums in Washington, an easily-digested sentiment reads like relief.

The saccahrine goodness loses flavor quickly, and leaves a funny taste--but its good while it lasts. They are a painless, quick and cost-free transaction, Robb's signs and their spawn. For the price of the gasoline to drive by, anyway, one's load can be lightened and one's outlook brightened. There's fortune cookie wisdom and greeting card gladness to be had all over town. It's a bully pulpit in tough times for the USA. That anyone is taking the time to help us to fill the glass at least half way just might make us all a bit thirsty.

But messages without meaning, thoughts without thinking, can be repellent, unconvincing as soon as they are cute or funny. Think of a suitor wooing his reluctant lover by directing her to read all the greeting cards under the "Couples" heading on the drugstore wall. "It's all in the cards, baby. I mean it, really!" The match book cover wooing the would-be artist with the chapel ceiling job, once he can master cartoon mouse head has an equally compelling argument . Things might work out for the lover and the artist, but both stand a good chance of falling hard and alone after much faithful leaping.

Of course, there is the danger of alienating an audience if the tone, frequency or content of the messages isn't quite all it could be. Playing to an audience that moves by at 40 miles per hour is only the most obvious challenge in the ministering to motorists. If the road on the way to work seems hectic, with cars seeping along too-small roads and every accident on the roadside an inspiration for half-an-hour's delay, what's going on in each of our steel and plastic boxes invites more chaos.

The hurried makeup applications, cell-phone conversations, newspaper reading and child discipline are happening all around us each time we pull out of the driveway. Whole chunks of our lives are happening between destinations, in the "place" between here and there. With food, programmable entertainment and a false sense of privacy and power, each car is its own little world. Galaxies of other little worlds orbit, nearly colliding, sometimes violently doing just that, moving quickly with little predictability and completely out of central control.

Working a commuter crowd with that kind of competition, from in- and outside the car, can not be easy. Advertisers must be a bit clever, a touch crude, pathologically direct and extremely succinct. With all that, a roadside sign or billboard is still only about as "sticky" as the speed limit and traffic allow. Even at a dead stop, any given idea, face, pitch or problem seems to get a few seconds to engage us. After that, it's the glazed eye, a sudden lurch forward and a missed opportunity.

The crucial thing was to get people's attention,

to spark their curiosity so that they would try church,

like a bar of soap.

--R. Laurence Moore

The combined accumulation and repetition must be part of some strategy. While its easy to wax cynical at the sight of some trite piety offered up on a sign, later recall is likley, maybe inevitable. That many or most Americans can sing jingles for products that haven't been sold in decades speaks well of the effectiveness of the advertiser's art, and the endurance of their work. All those neutered Christian messages, as shallow as they are prevalent, might just collect in our brains, like plaque in our arteries.

The word subliminal doesn't really fit: The messages are right out in the open as the words and world go by at the speed limit and beyond. There is, however, something insidious and inescapable with many forms of advertising. About the only place one won't find it anymore is on the inside of a church. Even when consumers make the attempt to "opt out" by avoiding and ignoring the marketeers "product", there's that ad for the hot tub hung at eye level above the urinal, up pops the browser window ad with the suggestively naughty mini-camera, in come the e-mails urging bigger organs, cheaper mortgages and prescription-less pills. We can complain, pretend to ignore, try to rise above, but the approach doesn't vary, unless to become even more pervasive. The conclusion is hard to escape: They keep selling that way because we keep buying when they do.

Though somewhat inelegant, and perhaps a bit desperate, the sort of shotgun approach taken by sign-posting clerics is bound to meet with a certain amount of success. God's invitation to the pre-tailgate party sermon sits next to a four-lane road that, according to figures released by Orange County for the year 2000, sees average annual daily traffic of more than 30,000 cars. This represents "the total volume passing a point or segment of a road facility, in both directions, during a 24-hour period". The volume is impressive-- almost past comprehension. Traffic feels unpleasant, alienating while it happens around us. To sit and count cars might give us a deeper understanding of that feeling. Other favorite signs spread their wisdom on roads serving some 45000, 58000, 75000 vehicles a day.

Volume in that range means millions of viewings within weeks. In a town as stuck-in-traffic as this one every weekday morning and night, lots of those are repeat customers. All those impressions, first, second or every morning just after the intersection, would cost the seller of toothpaste, liquor or air travel dearly. The few dollars it takes to drop some posts in concrete and put up a board starts to seem rather cheap after all. Rote repetition does not promote great understanding, but it sure can turn out some prodigious consumers.

What we are talking about here is not blasphemy but trivialization,

against which there can be no laws.

. . .the trivialization of significant cultural symbols

is largely conducted by commercial enterprise.

--Neil Postman

If all the talk of volume-per-day and cost is crass, mercenary, not nearly reverent enough for the content, well, that's perhaps a fair conclusion. We are not the folks paraphrasing chapter and verse in block letters. That job is being handled ably by the men and women with the signs and the gumption to tell others who to worship, how to behave and what God thinks and says.

If it seems presumptuous, a bit grandiose, cavalier almost, well, again, we're not the ones putting words in the mouth of the Almighty, yanking the thoughts from His Heavenly Head. It is in this introduction of sacred ideas and words into everyday life, travel and consumer language, in the juxtaposition of sacred and profane that evangelical Christianity has found either its fullest or its foulest flowering. How far we've come from Luther's defiant, heartfelt sign.