When I was a conservative evangelical teenager, I very much believed that God not only did miracles but gave us signs to show us the truth and save us from error.  The most amazing (and funniest) sign I received was in the summer of 1975, while painting my house.

I was home from my second year at Moody Bible Institute and was doing odd jobs here and there to pay for school, and my parents needed the house painted.  I hate(d) painting, but I like(d) being able to earn my keep, so I went for it.

To make sense of the sign, some background: one of my classes at Moody that year had been on the Christian “cults” – that is the Christian groups that evangelicals considered to be so far out there that they weren’t only non-Christian (like those Catholics and Greek Orthodox) but were dangerous to society and the well-being of the human race.  These included such nefarious apostates as

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