I’d Flip You a Bird but There’s a Fish on the Back of My Car
Why don’t fundamentalists preach against the sins of the automobile? If rock and roll, dancing, short skirts, tattoos, and long hair can bring the devil out in me, then take my car away too because the devil uses it to raise up evil in the world.
Take last week, for example. I’m in congested traffic due to construction and my lane is closed up ahead so we have to merge with the left lane. It’s not rocket science, people. It is supposed to work just like a zipper. A car in the primary lane allows one car in from the merging lane. The next car in the primary lane allows one more car from the merging lane into the flow and so on and so forth. It works beautifully when we all work together.
The group of drivers that I was around didn’t get the memo.
I kept trying to nose my way into the lane as people kept passing by anxious to hold their valuable spot on the road not even acknowledging my presence. I wondered, “Are you really that inconsiderate? Are you in that big of a hurry? Is it really so important that you arrive at the upcoming exit 1.2 seconds ahead of me?”
The term “road rage” was invented in the late 20th century. Road rage occurs when someone gets so annoyed at another driver that they lose all sensibilities and beat, stab, ram, and/or shoot the offending driver for their inattention to traffic laws or etiquette. I can understand how it happens.
I rarely get upset at other drivers for two main reasons. I live in a small city where traffic isn’t so bad and my office is only three miles from my house. God has protected me from this particular temptation.
When we lived in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, a pastor friend of mine told me once that he refused to get one of those stickers on his car that said “Clergy” because he drove too fast. He didn’t want to be a bad example for his profession. Christianity can handle the Bakker and Swaggert scandals and Catholic priests fondling little boys, but speeding preachers may be the end of the Christian Church as we know it.
One of the reasons I’ve never put religious paraphernalia on the back of my car is I’d hate for someone to see the fish on the back of my car as I’m flipping them the “You’re number one” sign with my middle finger when I pass them. But there are other reasons why I don’t frequent the local Christian stores to purchase items to display bumper sticker theology. I’m not sure what good that fish sign does. Apparently, it antagonizes the evolutionists because they have a fish with feet that says “Darwin Darwin
I’ve never had a “Honk If You Love Jesus” sticker on my car before but I sure have wanted to honk at Jesus lovers for not getting out of the dadgum way. Of course, in everybody’s top ten favorite religious bumper stickers of all time is “In Case of Rapture, This Car will be Unoccupied.” Those are usually the cars that would be an improvement in traffic flow if they really were unoccupied.
To my memory, I’ve never flipped anyone a bird for their driving but I could be tempted. Therefore, you will not see anything about my beliefs posted on the back of my car. No bumper stickers. No signs. No fish. Not even a decal of Calvin kneeling at the cross.
I figure that the way to get evangelism accomplished is through relationships, not bumper stickers. I’ve never met a person who was saved by a bumper sticker. I’ve never heard of a lost commuter following a fish person into a parking lot and asking the fish person as he exits his Christian car, “What must I do to be saved?” I’ve never met an evolutionist who turned his back on his sacred theory because he saw a Jesus fish eating a Darwin
It just doesn’t happen. Okay, okay, maybe someone out there has a testimony about how their fish instigated a conversation about the amazing grace of Jesus but I’m betting that 99.9% of fish people do not have such a story.
Evangelism is about relationships.
There is a classic book by Joseph Bayly titled The Gospel Blimp. It is a short story about two men who had a passion for their neighbors and the entire city. They wanted the whole town to know about Jesus and they came up with the idea of a blimp. Blimps worked at sporting events. Why wouldn’t they work for Jesus? The blimp would circle the city with Scripture messages, audio messages, Christian music, and occasional literature drops so that everyone in town could have access to the wonderful message of the cross. The main characters became so engrossed in the mechanics of running Gospel Blimp Ministries that all of their spare time and money went into their unique mission project. They tirelessly raised funds, hired pilots, and created captivating methods of spreading the good news. The blimp received plenty of attention from the citizens of their town but they had recorded no salvations as a result of its ministry. But they were planting seeds and God would bring a harvest at just the right time.
One day, however, one of the partners had enough. He had to quit. He was too drained and overwhelmed by the project. The gospel blimp was a great thing, he insisted, but he just felt led to do something else. The blimp was taking away his family time, his money, and his energy. A few days later, we find him having his unbelieving neighbor over at his house for a cookout. They laughed, ate, and enjoyed each others company for the first time. It was long overdue but he’d never been able have time for others when he was working with the blimp.
Gospel blimps aren’t a good investment of time. Neither are bumper stickers. Blimps and stickers won’t win the world to Christ. People will win the world to Christ. People who have a relationship with Christ and who make time to develop relationships with those who need to know him.
On vacation a few years ago, my then 20-year-old son, Cliff, and his friend, Bart, were invited to play Texas Hold’em with two young married couples from Ohio
The next day, the boys reported that they were able to have a lengthy spiritual discussion with the four adults about Christianity, the Church, Jesus, and religion. Their hosts claimed to be non-practicing Catholics. They had typical and common questions about Christianity. We’ll probably never know the extent of the conversation and its effect on the four gamblers, but this I do know: their discussion was used more by the Holy Spirit than any bumper sticker they may have seen on the highway as they made their way to the beach. And while some of you shutter to think that a preacher’s kid was allowed to gamble with strangers, I believe that Jesus was smiling and cheering them on.
