The Last Laugh

Skylar, my oldest grandchild at 5½ now, has always had a way with words. Children like her keep the rest of us entertained with their interesting comments, and one of Skylar’s two year old remarks has stuck with me. She and her family were visiting from Florida, and a dozen of us were seated around my dining table chatting. Skylar’s loud, animated jabbering was interfering, and finally her mother said, “Skylar! You can’t be so loud at the dinner table. Please talk softer.”

Laughing Skylar

Always thinking and not particularly interested in obeying at that moment, she looked directly at Linnea and said, in a quiet voice, “But Mommy, it’s good to laugh.” And quick as a wink she threw back her head, opened her mouth wide, and let out a rip-roaring, ear-splitting, drawn-out mega-laugh. She knew her mother wouldn’t say, “No laughing allowed!”

Although Skylar had the wrong approach, she did have the right idea. Scientists tell us we all benefit from a good laugh, and most of us don’t do enough of it. We’ve heard of Hollywood’s artificial “laugh tracks” and know the whole idea is to get us laughing more, enjoying the benefits of giggles and guffaws and the shows that cause them. Group laughter is a way of sharing in a happy experience.

Producers and directors recognize the power of a good laugh and have learned how to expertly blend natural and fake laughter. They’ve studied how wrongly placed laughs can ruin a story line, and how laughter that’s too loud or too long can offend listeners. Who knew there was such a thing as “wrong laughter?” But harnessing correct laughter translates to dollars and cents in the world of show business.

Sometimes I think about the things we laugh at in our spiritual lives and wonder if our behavior is always appropriate. Are we “laughing wrongly” as Skylar did that day at the table?

Maybe we can learn something from her laugh-wrapped disobedience. I have a hunch most of us do something similar on occasion. Haven’t we listened to our heavenly Parent’s instructions (or reprimands) with a hint of wrong laughter deep inside us? He tells us something important, and our inner laugh track quietly says, “Yeah, right. Ha ha.”

He says:

  • Put someone else’s needs atop your own. (We say, “Laughable.”)
  • Make decisions now, based on life after death. (“Oh sure.”)
  • Love your enemies. (“Ridiculous.”)
  • Believe that the devil is out to destroy you. (“Absurd.”)
  • View suffering as an effective teacher. (“Preposterous.”)
  • Trust your life to an unseen God. (“Outlandish.”)

How many times do we outwardly agree with him while inwardly thinking, “He can’t mean that!” But he hears our wrong-laugh track and is not joining in. What he wants from us instead is “correct laughter,” which is the deep satisfaction that bubbles up after cheerful, wholehearted obedience.

As for Skylar’s loud laughter at the table, she miscalculated her mother’s response, and during her time-out, she wasn’t laughing.

This is love: that we walk in obedience to [Christ’s] commands. (2 John 1:6)

If I had a hammer….

My husband was not a handyman. When I married him, I thought being mechanically inclined came naturally to most men, and that he’d automatically be my Mr. Fix-it. But when I asked him to do manual labor of any kind, he always bristled. I couldn’t figure it out, but that didn’t stop me from asking or him from complying.

A new seat

One day I thought maybe I was asking beyond his expertise. If I could find a simple task, things would go better. When our old toilet seat cracked, I came home with a new one and asked him to put it on. Two bolts. How hard could it be?

An hour after he started, I returned to inspect (and hopefully praise) him but found him spreading all our bath towels on a flooding floor.

“What happened?” I said.

“I couldn’t get the bolts off the old toilet seat, so I tried to hammer them off. That’s when water started pouring out the bottom!”

Not being mechanical myself, I hadn’t noticed the bolts were old metal ones, rusted and stuck. I probably would have used a hammer, too. The bottom line was a cracked toilet bowl that had to be replaced.

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Hammer

Remembering this incident reminded me of something I heard last week about unnecessary use of a hammer: “If a hammer is the only tool you have, everything looks like a nail.”

Isn’t that sometimes true of the way we try to get the attention of certain people in our lives? Sometimes we’re so passionate about making our point we “hammer it home” with excessive force when force isn’t needed.

Jesus described himself as gentle (Matthew 11:29), which didn’t preclude him from using force in the rare situations that warranted it. But he taught us by his consistent example that the most powerful tool was usually to use gentleness. That makes sense, since disproportionate force closes people off and prevents them from even hearing us.

Concerning the toilet bowl incident, a better approach would have been for Nate and I to have had a gentle discussion early in our marriage exploring why he disliked mechanical tasks so much. It would have saved a good deal of unnecessary angst and offense. Thankfully, we finally did that, and I learned the simple answer to the problem: he’d never been taught to do the tasks I was asking him to do. He certainly gets credit for trying, though, and I wish I’d given him more of it.

Tools

Eventually God surprised us when he endowed several of our children with the natural mechanical abilities our family (and our house) needed. And they knew how to use all kinds of tools…. not just hammers.

Paul said, “What do you prefer? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline, or shall I come in love and with a gentle spirit? (1 Corinthians 4:21)

Loss or Gain?

Nate's mailThis week Nate got two pieces of mail, reminders of someone who used to live with us but now is missing. One envelope even said, “We want you back!” It used to hurt when this kind of thing happened, but after 3½ years, it doesn’t zap me like it used to. I know my heart is healing, and I’m grateful.

But there will be more pain-producing moments in the future. It’s true for all of us, since no life is without its share of grief. If we aren’t dealing with a loved one’s death, we’re processing other losses – a job, a prodigal child, a bank account, an opportunity, a friendship, a home.

Of the billions who’ve lived on the earth, not one has escaped travail. We can trace that back to the first humans when they lost Eden, and that was just for starters. Never, as long as we live, will there be a loss-less life.

So how do we cope with such a dismal prospect?

Surely God doesn’t want us to live on red-alert beneath a banner that says, “WATCH OUT!” Scripture tells us, “The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning.” (Ecclesiastes 7:4) This probably means that as we move through life’s losses from grief to healing, we somehow gain wisdom along the way. If life is hunky-dory, we don’t learn much.

The biblical Paul insisted that every struggle he endured (when persecuted for his faith) was minor compared to what he gained in the way of salvation. This was quite a mouthful, considering all he’d experienced:

  • temporary blindness
  • 195 lashes (He kept track.)
  • 3 beatings with rods
  • 1 stoning with intent to kill
  • 3 shipwrecks at sea
  • multiple robberies
  • unnumbered whippings
  • intense physical pain
  • severe thirst and hunger
  • extreme cold without proper clothes
  • multiple imprisonments
  • the deaths of friends

Each of these included painful loss and a struggle to heal, physically and also emotionally. But Paul was willing, actually eager, to tackle trouble for two reasons:       (1) to testify to God’s bringing him through; and (2) to grow in wisdom.

Most of us won’t have to cope with such a list of agonies. But as we endure different losses, we have a choice: to respond as Paul did, leaning into God’s sustenance, or to resist healing, clinging to our losses.

Pregnant Katy

When I see Nate’s name in my mail, I miss him a great deal, but I no longer cry over the envelopes, a credit to God, not me. As the Giver of all gifts, he’s shown me he continues to give, in the midst of our losses. Hans and Katy’s new baby will be born in a week or so, and soon after that we’ll witness Klaus and Brooke’s wedding. Nate won’t be with us for either of these major events, but just like Paul, I have a choice. I can continue weeping over my loss, or I can rejoice in my gains.

The choice is easy.

“Do not say, ‘Why were the old days better than these?’ For it is not wise to ask such questions.” (Ecclesiastes 7:10 )