On the Dotted (and Disappearing) Line

I discovered the other day yet another reason I will never be president of the United States: I can’t sign my name the same way twice.

Presidents have to be able to do that, don’t they? To communicate continuity and consistency in their administration. To assure the world that though all hell may break loose, it can count on at least the president’s signature (if not his or her policies!) to remain constant.

Imagine the confusion were we familiar with two or three other John Hancocks from... John Hancock. We have come to rely on the flair, panache, and elegance with which he identified himself on paper. When we see his signature, we know instantly who he is and why he matters. Consistent. Predictable.

Presidents need those virtues. Whether for legislation renaming little-used highways, or bills authorizing government spending for the next fiscal year, an expected and identifiable signature reflects stability and congruity... which I can’t offer.

We’re sending out a letter to our congregation next week. My task was simply to add a “Bill” to the bottom of each copy. With each passing page, I grew increasingly amused and entertained by my inability to produce consecutive identical signatures. Okay, that’s an unrealistic standard, I suppose, but I couldn’t even produce pages that were each arguably “Bill”! It became a game to see whether any two of the signatures bore sufficient similarity to convince an independent observer that the same person had signed each.

So, I don’t expect to become president.... Well, I suppose I could become president, then allow someone else to sign for me, or use digital techniques to implant identical images on the required paperwork – that is, I could fake it – but that doesn’t sound very presidential.

This signature silliness got me to thinking about the consistency of my faith life, whether on any two consecutive occasions (or, more generously, any two consecutive days) I demonstrate anything close to a consistent image of the Jesus I claim. Am I able/willing to be as much a vessel for his presence today as I was yesterday, or last month, or whenever I last was able/willing to do so? Or is my faithfulness as unpredictable as my signature? Are there days when it’s not at all clear to an objective observer that I have any lord other than myself?

Of course, I could say I'm a Christian, but then fake it - allow others to cover for me, to excuse and accept my failings - but that doesn't seem very Jesus-like.

No, I have to face this. If in my world, signature inconsistency bars me from presidential consideration, what is the result of unpredictable faithfulness?

Each of us has to answer for ourselves, of course, but I will tell you what I have figured out: Grace may be defined as “unmerited favor,” but in light of my spiritual weaknesses, grace is more practically defined as the guarantee of a known, pre-approved co-signer on my life’s paperwork. Even when I don’t qualify as the follower I claim to be, grace vouches for me, and initials the slip extending God’s contract. Without grace, left to the limitations of my own ways, my worries would be far greater than a foiled presidential bid.

When you have a moment, think back on your life. How does your life’s signature in today’s calm (or tempest), compare with that from last year’s storm (or contentment)? Do you need grace, too?


Pray with me:
The hymn lyrics are “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” God. I say, amazing grace, how sweet the look, for even in my most distracted, depleted, or disinterested states, you restore me, you make my heart look like Jesus again. May I never tire of singing or pursuing your grace. In the name of Jesus, Amen.