bumper sticker razor blade beckoning

I stopped praying, stopped talking to God.  I gave him the silent treatment (hey, he started it).  I came to a point where I was just tired of trying to feel something and tired of talking about it and so I just stopped.  Not entirely gave up.  But took a break from calling on Christ and the resulting disappointment.

And then the signs came.

Several days ago, I drove to work and noticed a truck with several bumper stickers attached to the exterior like badly placed tattoos on bare arms.
  

For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Rom. 10:13

  
Orly?  I've called upon the Lord many times.  Did that mean I was saved?  Was that my confirmation?  It sure didn't feel like it.  Just another random sign that anyone could have ran into or an actual extension of God?  He must have sensed my hesitation because the signs kept coming.

A day or so later, I passed by a church sign on the way home from work.  They change their sign every week or so and it often contains the usual uplifting message that catches your attention while you ride by at 65 mph on a curved highway, you know, right before you careen into a ditch or another vehicle.   the sign on this particular day said something to the effect of "God did not take the time to create a nobody."

 The sign really made me pause.  But then I had to hit the gas because a few cars behind me were honking.  I guess they couldn't appreciate a brother trying to have a spiritual awakening in the middle of the road.  Jerks.  I contemplated the sign as I sped up.  It made sense.  I feel like a nobody.  But why would God waste his time creating a loser?  For a second, just for a second, I almost felt better about myself and things in general.  Uplifting, right?

Well.

Another day or so later (all this happened within the span of a week), I went to Wal-Mart and just as I walked up to the door, a family with a little girl were walking out.  The little girl looked up at me and handed me a small piece of paper.  Instinctively, I reached out my hand and took it.  I looked at it.  It was one of those "Where are you going when you die: Heaven or Hell?" pamphlets.

"Oh, thank you," I said, feigning sincerity.  I looked down at it again and then looked back and the little girl had vanished.

No, I'm just playing.  But she was creepy, like one of those quiet pale kids with the under eye circles you see in horror movies.  She might as well have scrawled "Hand this out to 5 other people or you will die" on the back of it.  In her blood.  At least I would have known what to do had I not fulfilled my part of the cursed Jesus pamphlet.

Side note: Did that little girl even know what she was handing me?  Did she understand the concept of God and heaven and hell?  Does she really think it's as simple as a prayer to a Santa in the sky?  I used to think so, too.  But, it's good to see the youth spreading the message of damnation instead of Dora the Explorer.  ¡Dios mío!

I wondered what this sign meant.  The other two felt more assuring but this one seemed a bit more sinister.  I already "knew" how to escape the flames of hell.  I didn't need a guide to the gates of heaven.  I just needed to feel it was all real.  Was this a whacked up warning after two straight signs of reassurance?  Had God changed his mind about me? 

And to bring it on home, a few days later after that, I was at work, straightening the stacks of khakis at the far end of my department.  I looked down at the floor and something shiny caught my eye.  I bent down and picked it up.  It was a razor blade, the sharp part wrapped in a thin cardboard.  I opened the cardboard.  The razor was fresh.  New.  Beckoning.

 

What the hell (literally) did this one mean?  Naturally, my thoughts went dark.  Was God telling me to give it up, to go ahead and slash my way to hell because I was beyond saving anyway?  No, of course not.  Or....what if he was?

I have thought about offing myself quite a bit lately and so it would have made more sense to get the razor blade first and then the warning pamphlet telling me that was a big no no!  Why did I get it last?

It's like getting a new Ikea desk with all these parts but no instructions on how to put them together.  How am I supposed to work with this mess?  This is why I don't like signs and messages.  It's all too vague, too interpretive, too messy to be of any significance.  

But maybe I just don't have all the pieces yet.  Maybe there are more signs to come, clear cut indications of where I stand with God and where I'm headed spiritually.  

Or maybe one day I'll wake up to find a handgun hanging from my headboard!  I just need to know.  Or maybe I need to find out for myself.  I think that's the next step.