I Hate Yard Signs
I hate yard signs.
We heard a powerful and very sticky sermon this weekend centered on the Old Testament book of Daniel, Chapter 3. Powerful because it was the story of three guys who not only survived being tossed into a furnace by a tyrant King, their hair wasn’t even singed. And, sticky because this one will be on me for quite some time. For you Veggie Tales fans out there, it is the story of Rack, Shack and Benny.
King Nebuchadnezzer had developed a fresh new set of cultural rules, practically out of nowhere, and then demanded that all the people comply. There were no forums for discussion and there were no venues for debate. The edict went forth — conform or be cancelled.
As I’ve been sharing, the recently formed unholy alliance of unified government with media and big tech should be of great concern across the citizenry regardless of affiliations. Countless stories are being quietly told in low places of those who feel it has become unsafe to state what they believe for fear of losing their job, their online identity or even family and friends. A recent survey appallingly revealed almost 45% of college students believe inclusivity outranks the First Amendment by stating hate speech should not be allowed anywhere in society; yet, no one could definitively agree on a codified definition of hate speech or inclusivity. E Pluribus Unum means, “Out of many, one”, not, “Silence many, to pretend one”.
As such, many now believe it is far safer to pretend to publicly bow down to these new cultural edicts while privately standing in protest. Back to Daniel, King Nebuchadnezzer decreed, “As soon as you hear the sound…of all kinds of music, you must bow down and worship the golden image of the King.” As the music played, VeggieTales gives us the brilliant dialogue between the talking vegetables when Rack, Shack and Benny were the only ones left standing; “C’mon, guys! Sing the song! Everybody’s doing it”
In Nazi Germany as hatred and intolerance swelled against fellow neighborhood Jews, shop owners would hang a simple sign in their window: “Arian Owned”. Almost dismissible, it cost nothing to place this handbill in plain sight for all to see. Yet, the power of this placard signaled to all non-Jew passers-by that their business was welcomed in this place, and — the Nazi Jew hunters can move on by. But imagine how the immiserated shop owners felt knowing they had exchanged truth and freedom for mere acceptance by the tyranny. So while it cost nothing to hang the sign, it cost everything.
Similarly, in Lenin’s Soviet Russia, business owners would place the pennant in their window: “Workers of the World Unite”. On beat, it was far more amenable to acquiesce with Panem than to muster the testicular fortitude to stand up to the machine which rumbles through town like a combine harvester seeking to mow down any non-conforming businesses in a blink. These simply phrased, monstrous memes may seem benign to us today, but back in their historic contexts they were emblematic reminders of defeat before a fight was allowed in exchange for a bowed-low, conquered life; which was barely a life at all.
The spirit of Nebuchadnezzer is alive and well today. While riding my bike for hours on end, I have bountiful opportunity to ponder the various yard signs stooped homeowners plant in their plots. Setting aside, for the moment, the chaotic election seasons where candidates’ names are sprayed across landscapes like poppies in Oz, I take careful note of the shop owner pleas: “Hate Has No Home Here”. “Science is Real”. “Love is Love”. “No Human is Illegal”. “Love Trumps Hate”. While I am most willing to delve into the truth and lies of each of these types of memes, my conclusion is that most of these virtue-signaled harbingers are not worth the plastic they are printed on, yet — they carry compounding cultural currency.
This is how progressivism rallies the crowds: Simplistic bromides, promise-filled billboards, campaign slogans, and trite tautologies, (Don’t feel bad, I just learned that word myself). There was a gruesome video captured during the Seattle riots of 2020 where a burned-out and looted, black-owned storefront had the charred remains of a “Black Lives Matter” sign at the door. The video accounts showed that BLM Inc. rioters were the ones who destroyed that business. So much for the yard sign Passover of the riotous spirit.
The, “Hate Has No Home Here” sign is a marketing catastrophe. Remember the law of first mention; “Hate” is the primacy we all take away from this campaign. And, are we to infer that those who do not sink such a sign into the earth, hate has therefore found a nest to dwell in? Not to mention, my own two-wheeled Gallop Polling portrays that the people who live in these Anti-hate homes simultaneously display a spitting, frothing revile for individuals like the last two appointed Supreme Court justices, the former Secretary of Education, and particularly — our prior President.
So go ahead, plunge the “Eradicate Systemic Racism” sign right next to the “Abolish the Sex Slave Trade” sign, so long as they are both prominently displayed in the front yard for many to see. I am not at all impressed with signs conspicuously displayed in a front yard. I would be much more inspired by those who hide their signs in the back yard, out of sight of the passers-by, so that the only signaling is solely to one's self. A quiet but serious daily reminder to personal responsibility, resolve and purpose as you stare out from the sink.
When Rack, Shack and Benny refused to bow, the King had the furnace turned up seven times its normal temperature. The fire was so hot, the guards who led the three to the furnace were killed instantly but when the King looked inside, he saw four men walking freely amidst the flames. Astoundingly, as the King saw that only their bindings had been burned, he exclaimed, “The appearance of the fourth is like that of a god! And there is the Christ.
The heat today is being turned up to seven times the norm, but those who stand for truth will not only not be burned — they will be truly free and lead the way.
