On a morning walk I passed our neighbourhood shoe repair shop. There’s a sign in the window, like the signs that used to be common along secondary highways and sideroads. This one says “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved,” as so many others like it do or did. The only thing missing was “Box 17 Elmira” on the bottom.

Today I saw a new sign, hand-lettered, all in caps: I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. NO ONE COMES TO THE FATHER EXCEPT BY ME, JESUS!

I’ve only been inside that shop once. I brought a pair of shoes I was pretty sure couldn’t be fixed. The Christian cobbler told me I was right and said I should just throw them away. I felt like a fool for having bought them to him. His commanding voice and withering look told me I was what I felt I was. The shoes with the glued-on soles couldn’t be saved. What about my soul?

What about the signs? The messages are cryptic, formed from a vocabulary foreign to most people, always in King James’s version. People who already believe, recognize the vocabulary of salvation, and have read at least a little of the King James know what they mean. Does anyone else who notices them get it? Maybe dropping a line of inquiry to Box 17 Elmira is called for.

Christians who post these signs mean well. They believe they’re doing good, warning all who pass by that they may still be on their way to Hell. There’s fear behind the signs. People who put them up believe the world and all who are in it are damned. They hope to help at least a few of us a way to escape a grim fate that we all deserve. The signs are supposed to be frightening, more warning than invitation.

I don’t know if the shoemaker really was afraid for the sake of my soul. My soul hurts for the sake of fearful Christians, who often live half-lives in this life because they’re so concerned about the next. But I appreciate their sense of urgency. Their signs shout CHANGE OR ELSE!

Should Christians like me be posting CHANGE OR ELSE! signs, too? We say the need for change is urgent. We believe our final destination with God is set. We know the hellish consequences of human action in this world and this life are already real and devastating.

Jesus, and the prophets whose shoulders he stands on, don’t offer you or me the personal hellfire insurance my local cobbler believes we need. Jesus and those prophets do call for change, before we succeed in setting fire to the planet and its population. Maybe we should be good and scared, afraid enough to warn our neighbours that we all need salvation. We can still be saved.