It had been a happy day, climaxed by a fun evening, especially for a little three-year-old girl who had managed to cajole her daddy into chasing her around the house playing hide-and-seek and then to crawl under the big dining room table with a blanket to “play tent.” Now it was bedtime, a bounce-up-and-down, giggly bedtime. I finally managed to stuff two wiggly legs and two flying arms into a pair of pajamas and to complete the routine, including reading from her favorite bedtime book, Jokes for Children. When it was time to pray, the giggling was only muffled. When her prayer finished, I began an adult type lecture on reverence. Her tiny voice, serious now, finally interrupted, “Why, Mother? Doesn’t God allow laughing?”
Good question, especially in this time of sobering news and legitimate fears of a viral enemy we can’t see. Worry about the future gnaws away at our joy like a rat that’s taken up residence in the pantry.
I’m not sure where the notion came from that if it is fun, it can’t be Christian. It certainly didn’t come from Jesus, who, though He was a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” also taught that joy was the earmark of the forgiven, and ultimately drank the cup so that our “joy might be full.”
Jesus hung out with his friends, avoided arguments, and used story to impart eternal truths. He was criticized for having too much fun and for refusing to keep his distance from people of questionable reputation. People loved so much to hear him speak that they walked miles in sandaled feet, climbed mountains, and caused crowding problems in the marketplace just to be where he was. He had a great sense of humor--painting word pictures of cramming camels through the eye of needles and digging two-by-fours out of the eyes of those who quibbled over specks of dust.
He started his public ministry at a wedding party, loved topping a great fish story, talked to babies when his disciples jockeyed for position, and threw the biggest lakeside picnic in history.
Yet now, more than 2000 years later, there are still folks who wonder if it’s all right with God if we turn off the paralyzing news long enough (or entirely) to sing or laugh or tell jokes that don’t always end in an altar call. Judging by the number of people we’ve met over the years who have turned their back on church because of harsh and heavy-handed religion, maybe it’s time we lightened up and actually enjoyed and shared some of the joy our Lord paid so dearly to buy us. Didn’t He say that His “yoke was easy”?
I remember two great stories from the earlier days of gospel music. Once there was a couple of singers who were critical of the fun one of the newer quartets was having in the concerts and announced that if they got into the group they would quit all of that entertaining and just minister. Jake Hess was sitting in the audience listening to this newly organized group. After about 30 minutes, he turned to a friend and said, “Well, they must be ministering; they sure aren’t entertaining.”
When the Statesman were at their prime and appearing on nationally sponsored television shows, reporters would often ask Hovie Lister if he considered what they were doing ministry or entertainment. He would answer, “Yes. Yes. Next question.”
The truth is we live in an intense world plagued by monumental problems that bombard us all day long. Most of us face financial crises, physical challenges, family issues, national fears, and spiritual setbacks. As Wordsworth said, “The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending we lay waste our powers…”
The pandemic must not totally eclipse our gratitude and hope. We need a break. We need to stop down, take a deep breath and two steps back from it all to get some perspective. We need to laugh. We need to run and play. We need a tension-free conversation over a slowly consumed meal. We need a joyful on-line concert, a thought-provoking movie, or good joke around the table.
Then, maybe we can start tomorrow with our minds cleared, our spirits lifted, and our energy restored. For me it helps to read a great book or walk by the creek or dig in the garden. Bill and I like an evening by ourselves or by the firepit or in the woods or watching a great DVD.
One night we had what seemed to be and especially spiritually and artistically satisfying Homecoming Concert. Afterwards, an attractive middle-aged lady stopped me and began to tell me how she loved the evening and how much it meant to her. I thought maybe she would mention the depth of one of my lyrics to a song, or the impact of some deep concept one of the other artists had shared. But no. Instead, she said, “I have not laughed this hard in years. I’d almost forgotten I could. And you have no idea how much I needed to laugh. Thank you all for tonight.” Now I ask you: was what we were doing ministry? Was it entertainment? Yes. Yes. Next question.
