Gospel Laughter

Richard Moomjian

After almost two hours of talking, I looked at my watch as we both knew our conversation had gone on longer than we thought. “I’ll tell you this one,” he said as he looked down and chuckled to himself. “After a long day, I called a congregant over the phone to see how they were doing.” He gave a short, knowing pause. “And as I was leaving a voicemail…” He looked up at me and repeated, “a voicemail.” He continued, “I ended it with, ‘Have a great rest of your day, in Jesus’ name...’”

He let out a loud, high-pitched laugh, and at the same time, I wheezed, threw my head back, and teary-eyed, rocked forward with a similar high-pitched shriek. My right hand laid on my stomach and then, almost against my will, it hit my thigh. Smiling and laughing almost uncontrollably, I shook my head to the left and to the right slowly, as I considered the overwhelming, almost arresting joy that was animating my body.

We were laughing and couldn’t stop. We were happy. We were filled with joy.

It took a while for both of us to regain our composure. “Maybe she just thought you were really holy,” I replied, “that you were just ‘praying without ceasing.’” My laughter slowed naturally. I let out a loud, squealy sigh as I sat there, relaxed, almost limp in my chair.

“I wonder if she even picked up on it,” I said, as I wiped the tears from my eyes with my palms. “Nothing you can do with a voicemail.”

At the end of our conversation, I sat there, across from a friend, with a certain sweetness and warmth in my heart from our exchange. I felt happy and known. I felt like I had been given a privileged window into his life. For a sweet moment, I had peered into the joy of another’s heart, and it produced laughter.

Laughter Happens

Do you choose to laugh? I’ve thought about that question a lot. I suppose you can choose not to laugh at someone’s joke, out of protest. You can furl your brow for whatever reason at someone and refuse to laugh at his or her jokes.

But, more often than not, I’ve found that laughter simply overcomes you. Like the crest of a wave, laughter comes over you as you wade out in the ocean of relationship. Like a loud sneeze, laughter happens involuntarily around the couch or around the dinner table. It only takes one: “Tell them about the time you…” The comment or story they shared was just funny to you, so you laugh. It resonates. And that laughter just happens.

Laughter happens when someone delivers the perfect punchline. It happens when you pronounce a word the wrong way and can’t continue on in seriousness until you acknowledge your mistake with a laugh. Or it happens when you reveal an embarrassing story. Laughter happens to you. It arrests you. It overcomes you and fills you with joy.

The best laughter happens as you resonate with the truth. The truth that we aren’t perfect. The truth that we make mistakes. But also, the truth that there is another person who knows that, sees that, and says “Amen” by joining you in uncontrollable, full-bellied laughter.

Joy is almost inherent in laughter. Can you be sad and laugh? In a week full of sadness, in laughter, if only for a moment, you are lifted from the fog and brought into a ray of joy-filled light. Against your will—or rather—along with your will, you laugh, and you heal. You laugh and you are uplifted. You laugh and you rejoice. It’s true, what Madeleine L’Engle said: “A good laugh heals a lot of hurts.”

Drawn Into Joy

Our salvation in the gospel, might I suggest, is much like this, like laughter. It happens to us. The gospel’s truth resonates with our hearts and as a result, in faith, almost involuntarily, we are drawn into the joy of God. We are confronted by our mistakes. We lower our defenses. And we are told that there is One who knows that, sees that, and by his Spirit fills us with uncontrollable faith. And all at once, like buckling laughter, we are overcome with animating joy.

I suppose you can choose not to believe in God, as you can choose not to laugh. You can furl your brow at him for whatever reason, refusing to believe. But doesn’t that take much more energy? Wouldn’t you be better to believe the gospel, resonate with him, and be filled with joy? I think so. I think most people prefer a laugh to a scowl. A good gospel laugh can heal a lot of sin’s hurts.

And God saves us in the gospel not against our will, but rather along with our will. Joy is inherent in faith, as in laughter. We believe and we heal. We believe and we are uplifted. We believe and we rejoice. We receive salvation as a gift, much like a laugh—it’s unearned, unrehearsed, only to be received with the genuine and joyful response of faith. We respond almost inherently to the divine punchline: “Repent and believe the gospel.”

Gospel Laughter

What does that gospel look and sound like in the church? A lot of things. It looks like ear-to-ear smiling. It looks like groups of people, gathered, with interested gaze. It sounds like the happy hum of Christian conversation in the Commons or after worship in the Sanctuary. And sometimes, it sounds like uncontrollable laughter.

So let me suggest that we have more gospel laughter. Laughter that frees us from the sadness this world brings. Laughter that heals us from the wounds of sin. Laughter that arrests us, happens to us, as we live in the truth that we are beloved by God. Real laughter that looks like, sounds like, and feels a lot like faith.

This gospel laughter comes because of who we are in him. Our gospel laughter comes because our joy knows no bounds in his name. Gospel laughter comes because, once the dust settles, all will be well in his hands. We laugh because we can believe it. We laugh because we can’t help it. We laugh because, in the gospel, our joy in him overflows.

Communion At College Church

JULY 2 & AUGUST 6