I love puns. And while some puns can make you groan; most make you smile– at least a little. It’s good to laugh. It’s also good to step back once in a while and not take everything so seriously. Laughter is good medicine (Proverbs 17.22), and a wise person will not be afraid of a little levity. In fact, some lessons are better taught through gentle laughter than through harsh condemnation. So with that, I am sharing a few bits of “church humor.”
Bulletin notes: “Next week, our pastor will be out of town. The following week, he will speak on ‘Just a vacation by faith.'” “Please remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community!” “‘What is Hell?’ Find out during our new sermon series.” “For those who have children and don’t know it, there is a nursery downstairs.”
Fresh “interpretations”: “Lettuce pray…” Luke 2: 14…Peas on earth; gourd will to men… Genesis 2:7… and Adam became a living bean… A-maize-ing Grace…
What happens when children mishear the Sunday School lesson: “Lot was told to take his wife and flee (Sodom). But his wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt.” “But what happened to the flea?”
And the Lord fed the five thousand with five loaves and tuna fish.
“Zacchaeus was a weird little man, and a weird little man was he…”
“We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sleeves.”
I am so grateful for the gift of joy and laughter! I hope you are able to share a smile or a laugh with someone today. And know that even though “Jesus wept” (John11:35) over the death of His friend, Lazarus, He also shared times of laughter with His family and friends. He LOVES to see you smile! He rejoices in your chuckles and grins. May today be filled with joy, even as you face whatever lies ahead.
It is the shortest verse in the entire Bible– St. John 11:35: “Jesus wept.” Only two words. They are easily memorized; they are also easily overlooked or misrepresented. Jesus wept over the death of his good friend Lazarus.
Jesus wept–Emmanuel felt deep emotion and showed it. God shed tears over the pain and sadness of a death; Messiah cried for the loss of his good friend. Jesus was no stranger to sadness and loss– God understands the sharp sting of death. God is compassionate, not heartless or cruel. If we are in emotional turmoil, it is not because God doesn’t know our pain or doesn’t care. He hurts WITH us in our times of deepest need.
Jesus wept–People often ask the rhetorical question, “What would Jesus do?” when faced with a situation. Here is an example of what Jesus did– he wept. Sometimes, the “thing to do” is to acknowledge the reality of our situation–death hurts. It brings out feelings of anger and even fear. Death is scary. It’s ugly, and it fills us with a sense of injustice, and a desire to wake up and find that death is just a very bad dream. Aching loss, wracking sobs, feeling punched in the gut by circumstances– these are valid feelings and reactions. To pretend otherwise or to deny ourselves or others the right to express those feelings does great harm, just as wallowing in sadness and remaining isolated in our grief can drag us into hopeless depression.
Jesus wept– period. He didn’t punch a wall or point fingers at Mary and Martha for “letting” their brother die. He didn’t try to justify his extra-long stay that kept him from arriving before his friend died. Neither did he justify returning to a region where he was not “safe” from the authorities in order to comfort the sisters (and ultimately raise Lazarus back to life). People often criticize Christians for “not doing enough” to erase hunger, cure diseases, or end poverty in the world. Some even point out that Jesus, being God incarnate, had the power to do all of this during his earthly ministry. But he didn’t. As he was dying, he said, “It is finished.” He wasn’t referring to some social revolution or economic program, or political movement that would abolish the oppression of the Roman Empire, or the corruption of the Pharisees, or end the slave trade. That doesn’t mean that God approves of evil, corruption, and injustice.
But it means that Jesus’s mission was accomplished through what he did in life and through his sacrificial death. He loved freely, healed those who were willing, and taught about the true character of his Heavenly Father. He ate, and laughed, and slept; he burped and sweat, and cried. He prayed and worshiped and worked and gave. Jesus didn’t weep because he had no power to keep Lazarus from dying. He proved that just minutes later.
Jesus wept because he was showing us the very heart of God. God’s heart is not to flex his sovereign muscles and demand our instant and abject obedience– though he has the perfect authority and right to do so. His heart is to walk intimately with us, even when that walk goes through the very valley of the shadow of death! God’s love isn’t flinty and cold. It isn’t pushy and arrogant and selfish. It is extravagant and gracious beyond all imagination. It is raw agony and pure joy. It doesn’t immediately “fix” our hurts or answer all our questions, but it wraps around us even IN our pain, and it give us hope to endure and carry on.
What in your life causes you to weep? What burdens and aches and frustrations and questions drive you to tears? Jesus may not take away what hurts us, but he will never turn us away because we are scarred or scared or broken. He will share our burdens, wipe our eyes, and hold us as we pour out our tears.
9 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.
My mother died a couple of weeks ago. It is a season of mourning for me. And I know many others who have recently lost loved ones– husbands, fathers, mothers, and children. It is very easy for me to mourn with those who mourn right now. My heart aches with empathy. I know that mourning feels like, even if I don’t understand the exact nature of another person’s grieving. We are called upon to mourn with those who mourn. We want to share the burden of grief– to come alongside, to show support and sympathy. It is not just a “Christian” reaction to share sorrow. Yet, as Christians, we are commanded to truly participate in the grieving process with our sisters and brothers as they mourn. It is more than a simple expression of sorrow, or a kind word at the funeral home. It may involve “checking in” with someone weeks later, to see how they are coping with grief. It may be providing practical assistance– meals, help with funeral arrangements, etc.. Often, it involves speaking words of remembrance– providing the comfort of hearing familiar memories, and keeping loved ones “alive.” Even though we know our loved ones are “home,” or “in a better place,” or “at peace,” there is something chilling about their absence, and more so when they seem to be forgotten by those around us. Most of all, we can share our steadfast love and encouragement through dark days, through prayer, visits, listening, and providing hospitality.
We chose to have a friend read Romans 12:9-21 at Mom’s funeral. It summed up so much of who she was and what she had tried to instill in us as her children. And I was intrigued anew by verse 15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” It always seems like the first part of the verse should be the easiest, and the last phrase more difficult– more bitter. But in reality, I find it can be almost the opposite.
I don’t much feel like rejoicing lately. I’m not trying to be morose, but grieving is a long and painful process. There are moments of happy memories, and even relief that Mom no longer has to suffer. There is also reason for hope in the resurrection of the dead, and eternal life with Jesus. But the daily reality right now is of loss. Painful, heart-wrenching separation. It hits in quiet, unexpected moments with paralyzing, mind-fogging numbness. And I don’t much feel like being surrounded by the noise and gaiety of celebration. My laughter sometimes rings hollow, and my tears are often close at hand.
But God’s word says that I am to rejoice with those who rejoice. I am to help them celebrate their blessings, just as they are to comfort me in my sorrow. And this is part of God’s perfect plan! Bitterness and isolation can come if we choose to stay away from the happiness of others, or refuse to acknowledge our own grief. We can become resentful, even angry, as we listen to laughter from a distance, or compare our grief to someone else’s joy. Life is sure to bring both into our path at some point in our journey. There is no escape from grief, and no guarantee of ease and delight around every corner. God Himself is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and yet He calls us to make a joyful noise (Psalm 100:1). Even Jesus attended feasts and funerals. He wept (John 11:35), and He cried out in anguish from the Cross (Matthew 27:46). But He also rejoiced with those He healed, and with His disciples as they traveled, ate, and talked together.
There is healing in laughter. There is refreshment in rejoicing. And even in our grief, we need to allow for moments of shared praise and congratulations for those who are in a season of blessing. It is equally true that we should not allow our rejoicing to blind us to the suffering of others. We need both–sorrow makes us slow down a bit, contemplate, and prioritize; joy heals and gives us energy to keep running the race.
Today, my prayer is that God would open my eyes to the blessings of others, and the joy that He brings in all situations! And that He would refresh my soul to bring comfort to others who are grieving, and additional joy to those who are rejoicing.
Pursuing Prayer 