Years and years ago, at our first church, we hosted a gospel meeting. Perhaps you remember those — a week long series of evening sermons usually beginning on Sunday and lasting through Friday or, later in the shelf-life of that particular tactic, Wednesday. Our Baptist friends called them revivals. They were actually pretty effective back in the day, but then so were things like slide projectors, slide rules and pocket protectors. By the way, since we’ve moved to Huntsville and met real, live rocket scientists, I have actually seen people wearing those shirt-pocket, plastic pen holders. Anyway, we had worked really hard to make this meeting successful. We had booked an excellent preacher, invited lots of friends, had a work day to get the building and grounds ready and prayed it up for weeks.
That Sunday morning, we had a huge crowd. I was tapped to lead the singing and we scheduled one of our more articulate deacons to offer a communion meditation. He did not disappoint. He was eloquent, relevant, biblical and brief. He led a moving prayer, then he lifted the silver lid covering the bread and stared at the plate for what felt like five minutes. I actually wondered if he was having a moment — you know like when the meaning of the symbols hits you and all the gravity of the crucifixion falls on you with an eternal weight of glory.
He was having a moment alright. With all the preparations we had made, all the prayers we had prayed, someone forgot to put bread in the tray. And Welch’s in the cups. Our eloquent deacon, slammed the lid back down and said, “We have a problem.”
I jumped back up on the dais and led all the verses to some song — which one I don’t remember — while other deacons hustled the empty trays back into the prep room and frantically flung matzo and grape juice. It wasn’t all that funny then. But it is now.
Funny things happen in Sunday church. Like the time a squirrel showed up at Campus. He (or perhaps it was a she — no one checked) sat on a ledge in the back of the auditorium with his/her little hands drawn together as if in prayer. I was preaching and began to notice that people were not paying attention, which was odd, because these particular people were usually very active listeners and I thought it was a pretty interesting part of the sermon. Then I noticed the critter and, I too, stopped listening to what I was saying. Realizing that we were about to have a moment, I said, “Okay, there’s a squirrel in the back of the room. Let’s all look at him/her, then we can get back to the preaching.”
So everyone turned around and looked. Just in time to see the prayerful rodent leap off the ledge into the crowd.
There was nothing decent or orderly about the exodus from that section of the auditorium. People screamed. People spoke in tongues. People jumped pews. I think someone even got healed. It was, I am sad to say, the most exciting thing that has ever happened in one of my preaching services. (By the way, I am well aware of the Ray Stevens song and am linking it here.)
God has a sense of humor. How else do you explain Balaam’s talking donkey (Numbers 22)? Or the Philistine hemorrhoids (1 Samuel 5 – 6)? Or the demoniac opening up a can on the seven sons of Sceva (Acts 19)?
Sometimes, we Christians can be down right morose. I’m not suggesting that you pull the old hand-buzzer prank on unsuspecting visitors to your church. But if we really believe that the Gospel is Good News, then why not enjoy it a little? When it’s time to be serious, by all means, be serious. But if God decides to do something hilarious today at worship — go with it.
Oh, look! A squirrel!
Most fun day at Campus…ever!!
If God didn’t have a sense of humor then explain the Duckbill Platypus….a mammal that lays eggs…..I’m really big on not letting things rob me of my joy even in the worst of circumstances. I’m looking forward to meeting Jesus in Heaven and him asking, “did you have a good time?” to which I will respond, ” it was Awesome!”