You’re Kidding Me
How I love to laugh. It eases the hurt. Laughter even produces chemicals in my brain to numb the very real pain I feel. It’s way better than a prescription. It is fun. We kid each other, and laugh about everything: death, crime, AIDS, drunkenness, porn, poverty, divorce, child abuse, financial ruin, Michael Jackson’s tragic demise, and even Jesus. Nothing escapes. “Laughter is the best medicine” is the old axiom; a curative with no collateral liver damage or nausea. Everything is a joke!
Even God? How dare I? When I wink at his commands, when I rationalize my impurity, when I flippantly cast off my own culpability for my sin, “The devil made me do it,” I kid myself, and laugh at the lie, because it was me all along. I make God a liar. “How dare he accuse me when it was Satan?” You are kidding me! No, He’s dead serious.
God gets in my face by His Word: “Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom.” I read the verse in context, and I find that the Great God of Creation, the Holy Father of Jesus, the Grantor of Life and Breath, THE GOD of GRACE and MERCY… will draw near to me when I draw near to him in humility and a broken heart, clean hands, in grief for my sin.
He has me in his grip. There is no way out, no joke to grease my way and slip loose. There’s nothing funny about this at all.
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