Signposts
13/05/19 05:32
In 1942 the US Army Corps of engineers was hard at work in Canada, building a highway that would connect Alaska to the lower 48 states. After the attacks on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, it was determined that Alaska was especially vulnerable to attack from Japanese forces. The two territories didn’t become states until 1959, and were considered to be remote and distant from the United States. Much of the rout of the Alaskan highway was across extremely remote country, far from towns. The road was being constructed at breakneck speed. During the construction, US soldier Carl K. Lindley was injured and transported to Watson Lake in the Yukon, to recover. As he recovered, a commanding officer asked him to repair and erect the directional signposts. He completed the job, adding a sign that indicated the direction and mileage to his hometown of Danville, Illinois. That was the start of what has become known as the signpost forest in Watson Lake. In 1990, two years before the 50th anniversary of the tourist attraction, a couple from Ohio added the 10,000th sign to the collection. Today there are over 77,000 signs. Travelers from around the world bring signs from their hometowns and attach them to posts erected by the community.
It is one of the landmarks on a highway that I have not yet driven, a place that others have reported about to me and one that I hope to one day visit. I’m pretty sure that someone has already placed a sign that says “Only 2,057 miles to Wall Drug” up there, but if not, I’m sure the Wall Drug folks would provide a sign for someone willing to post it.
Watson Lake is barely in the Yukon territory. There is a whole lot more to explore in that part of Canada, but arriving at Watson Lake is one of the distinctions that marks a long overland journey. The thought of going there fuels my imagination at times. YouTube is filled with videos of the Alaska Highway and the Dempster Highway, which are the major routes for exploring the Yukon in this time.
Who knows what destinations I will reach on this life’s journey? I know that I have been able to go places that I didn’t expect to reach. If you had asked me, even a few years ago, if I would consider taking two trips to Japan in two years, I would have been skeptical and needed a reason. A daughter living there and a grandson on the way are sufficient reason. So we will go there, even if it means and other trip will be undertaken in a different time frame. One lifetime is too short to do all of the traveling that I can imagine, so there are places of which I dream where I will not travel.
Signposts aren’t the same as reaching the destination. It’s nearly 3,000 miles from Watson Lake to Danville, Illinois. In 1942, the roads weren’t as well designed and constructed, vehicles weren’t as reliable, and undertaking the journey was a huge series of trips. Carl Lindley was probably a bit homesick and nostalgic when he posted the sign, pointing southeast as he worked in a location that seemed to him to be a long ways from home.
I was thinking of signposts because Krista Tippett, host of the Public Radio program “On Being” replayed part of an interview with civil rights leader Vincent Harding in which Harding challenged all to become “live human signposts.” It is an empowering image. Sometimes our lives can be a way of pointing others in the right direction.
There are a lot of people who come and go through a church. I often meet strangers who come to the church with a particular need or in hopes of some assistance. We have a conversation and I do what I am able and then they go on with their lives. Most of the time it is a single encounter and I never learn the rest of the story. Perhaps they were helped by our conversation. Maybe a sack lunch or a bit of other assistance made a difference. Most of the time I don’t know if our church was a signpost or just another place passed by on a long journey.
Sometimes people come back. A few of the strangers have become friends and members of the congregation. The lives of some have changed direction because of what happened to them at our church.
One of the striking architectural features of our church is a large white cross on the top of the hill that can be seen from a long distance away. We have a light that shines on the cross at night to show the way to our church. Our church is tucked into a neighborhood. We simply aren’t in a location where a sign would be seen by many people and so far we have avoided constructing one of this digital billboards that are common at churches to display the time, temperature and a few chosen verses or an aphorism about religion. I prefer the cross, frankly. We don’t have to come up with a clever slogan, probably repeated from some other source, each week. Our sign is the same. Like Carl Lindley’s sign in Watson Lake, the distance and direction remain the same. Except the cross doesn’t point in any direction because God is present everywhere. Turning towards a deeper relationship with God doesn’t require orientation in a specific direction.
Child development experts tell us that all children develop a notion of God by the age of five whether or not they receive religious instruction. Those who receive religious instruction tend to have a more expansive understanding of God as they mature. Signposts are important. Teachers and mentors are important. And every parent and teacher knows that more is learned from who we are than from what we say. Vincent Harding is right, we each can become a live human signpost for another.
Whether or not I ever make it to the Yukon, I know the direction and I know that my home is not a particular place: “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.” (Ps 90:1)
It is one of the landmarks on a highway that I have not yet driven, a place that others have reported about to me and one that I hope to one day visit. I’m pretty sure that someone has already placed a sign that says “Only 2,057 miles to Wall Drug” up there, but if not, I’m sure the Wall Drug folks would provide a sign for someone willing to post it.
Watson Lake is barely in the Yukon territory. There is a whole lot more to explore in that part of Canada, but arriving at Watson Lake is one of the distinctions that marks a long overland journey. The thought of going there fuels my imagination at times. YouTube is filled with videos of the Alaska Highway and the Dempster Highway, which are the major routes for exploring the Yukon in this time.
Who knows what destinations I will reach on this life’s journey? I know that I have been able to go places that I didn’t expect to reach. If you had asked me, even a few years ago, if I would consider taking two trips to Japan in two years, I would have been skeptical and needed a reason. A daughter living there and a grandson on the way are sufficient reason. So we will go there, even if it means and other trip will be undertaken in a different time frame. One lifetime is too short to do all of the traveling that I can imagine, so there are places of which I dream where I will not travel.
Signposts aren’t the same as reaching the destination. It’s nearly 3,000 miles from Watson Lake to Danville, Illinois. In 1942, the roads weren’t as well designed and constructed, vehicles weren’t as reliable, and undertaking the journey was a huge series of trips. Carl Lindley was probably a bit homesick and nostalgic when he posted the sign, pointing southeast as he worked in a location that seemed to him to be a long ways from home.
I was thinking of signposts because Krista Tippett, host of the Public Radio program “On Being” replayed part of an interview with civil rights leader Vincent Harding in which Harding challenged all to become “live human signposts.” It is an empowering image. Sometimes our lives can be a way of pointing others in the right direction.
There are a lot of people who come and go through a church. I often meet strangers who come to the church with a particular need or in hopes of some assistance. We have a conversation and I do what I am able and then they go on with their lives. Most of the time it is a single encounter and I never learn the rest of the story. Perhaps they were helped by our conversation. Maybe a sack lunch or a bit of other assistance made a difference. Most of the time I don’t know if our church was a signpost or just another place passed by on a long journey.
Sometimes people come back. A few of the strangers have become friends and members of the congregation. The lives of some have changed direction because of what happened to them at our church.
One of the striking architectural features of our church is a large white cross on the top of the hill that can be seen from a long distance away. We have a light that shines on the cross at night to show the way to our church. Our church is tucked into a neighborhood. We simply aren’t in a location where a sign would be seen by many people and so far we have avoided constructing one of this digital billboards that are common at churches to display the time, temperature and a few chosen verses or an aphorism about religion. I prefer the cross, frankly. We don’t have to come up with a clever slogan, probably repeated from some other source, each week. Our sign is the same. Like Carl Lindley’s sign in Watson Lake, the distance and direction remain the same. Except the cross doesn’t point in any direction because God is present everywhere. Turning towards a deeper relationship with God doesn’t require orientation in a specific direction.
Child development experts tell us that all children develop a notion of God by the age of five whether or not they receive religious instruction. Those who receive religious instruction tend to have a more expansive understanding of God as they mature. Signposts are important. Teachers and mentors are important. And every parent and teacher knows that more is learned from who we are than from what we say. Vincent Harding is right, we each can become a live human signpost for another.
Whether or not I ever make it to the Yukon, I know the direction and I know that my home is not a particular place: “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.” (Ps 90:1)