Contagious Belly Laughs
In the midst of a world whose madness keeps getting more pronounced and whose madness promises to get even more pronounced in the next week or so - what are all you clear-headed folks to do? When mayors are threatening to cancel Christmas, churches are holding sad-faced segregated diversity sensitivity trainings, and racist Boogala-fire-breathers from the right are threatening to attack cities over against masked Antifa-er brick-throwers on the left, what should Christians be doing? Do we mournfully wear our masks, avoid worshipping together and go along with the whole thing quietly, with our quiet, sensitive voices? Do we angrily demand “our freedoms” and buy more ammo? When the culture is convulsing and having a whole bunch of remarkably emotional fits - How are the people of God to respond - like if we actually believe the Gospel is true?
Proposal: Deep, cascading, belly laughs. The sort that go all the way down to your toes.
Wait a minute (I can hear some of you saying in the back), shouldn’t we be a bit more, well, sad? Maybe even afraid of what’s to come. Shouldn’t we treat All This Seriousness with a bit more seriousness - with furrowed brows, and soft glistening eyes, and an understanding nod? What about all this death? What about all this economic and psychological suffering? What about what could happen if That Guy is president in February?
Well, to clarify, you should weep with those who weep. You should stand by and with those who suffer. But I don’t mean anything like abstract people with abstract weeping. If you see your neighbor in need, sick, without much hope - don’t laugh at them. If someone you know is suffering a terrible injustice, don’t laugh at them. But as you stand back and look at the world losing its collective mind, laugh deeply, heartily. Be a jolly lover of neighbors and weeper with weepers. And do not be frightened by the madness that swirls around right now.
There are two grounds for this jolly laughter. Two things I would implore you to hold on to as we continue to worship together on Sundays, turn to the Bible for how to understand everything, and do our best to practice hospitality to one another and our neighbors. Here are two reasons we must keep singing, and laughing as we do so.
First: In Romans 8:18ff., God promises that the suffering surrounding the Christians in Rome (which in the context includes things like poverty, sickness, hunger and slaughter in verses 35-36), once its all collected and accounted for will be accounted as nothing compared to the weight of the beauty and goodness to be given to us through all of it. It is scary. It is truly painful. But it is the birth pains of glory. Magnificent, overwhelming glory. For all who belong to Jesus, we find ourselves in the birthing room and there seems to be a lot happening right now. It may even seem like chaos, like sadness and death are certain (after all we are in a hospital). But something altogether beautiful is happening. God is doing all of this right now. People are losing their minds and there’s a lot of noise, but God is subjecting the whole world to this futility, and He’s doing so in hope. Oh just wait - Paul says in verse 25, you can’t see it yet, but everything is going to be just glorious.
Second: This is all well and good, but does it justify the laughter I’m advocating for? Why all the laughing? In Psalm 2 God shows us what this patient hope looks like when confronted with the convulsions coming from the nations. Here is what God does in Psalm 2:4, “He who sits in the heavens laughs…” The nations, with very serious faces and complex crayon-colored diagrams align themselves against God and his rule - his truth, his beauty and his goodness. They press against His sanity, His order, with very serious plans to cancel Christmas this year. And right when you expect to hear a fire-breathing roar from heaven, instead you hear infectious laughter. It is a laughter that unravels rebellion and the fears of His people and sets God’s enemies to flee. It is a laughter, rooted in the glorious hope Paul talks about in Romans above. You cannot stop the glory He is delivering right now.
I imagine God’s laughter to be the most glorious sound in all the universe. And like all good laughter it is unavoidably infectious. Laughter spills into a room and pretty soon everybody whose in on it can’t help themselves. I remember sitting in a room as people told stories about my mom after she died. I was pretty sad. I was weeping. And yet some of those stories, I mean, she was a doozy, absolutely hilarious. And then somebody, I don’t remember who, started having a laughing fit - just like my mom used to have. And soon, in the midst of all the tears the whole room was laughing uncontrollably. The One Who Sits in Heaven laughs way better than that. And when all his enemies come together, he laughs.
So, Christian, learn to laugh at these days. Live and worship and love as those who are free: truly free. Forgiven of all our sins, children of the God who owns and runs all things, and living in the world that is His to give. Drink wine, sing and celebrate the days that are to come. And when you see the world’s madness - laugh all the way down to your toes.