INTRODUCTIONCHURCH HAPPENS!

Ive been attending church two to three times per week my whole life, and if there is one thing Ive learned from it, its this: church may not always be fun, but it is often very funny!

When I say Ive been attending my whole life, I mean since about nine months before I was born (Ill let you do the math). Im fairly certain Mom and Dad were taking me to church at least a couple of weeks before they even knew I was along for the ride.

And when I say it isnt always fun, that is exactly what I mean. Church isnt always fun, mainly because it involves, uh, church people. Jesus warned us that the world would hate us as His followers because it hated Him, but sometimes the most hurtful thing is how we treat, and are treated by, those within the church, our family of God. So, though church sometimes is fun, it isnt always.

When I say, though, that church is often very funny, I dont mean that it is strange, quirky, or downright weird, even if all of those are accurate descriptors on occasion. I mean the kind of funny that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and you have to beg for mercy.

Perhaps, like me, youve had the need to laugh so badly during church youve tried inflicting pain on yourself to keep from being a distraction. Most often, I have used my fingers to push against my eyes in order to regain my composure, and I recall several times having such difficulty controlling the laughter I thought I would have to risk permanent blindness to get the needed effect. (If you ever see me in person, youll understand this to be a possible explanation for what my doctor refers to as my prominent eyeballs; shoot, Doc, my family and I have just always called them bugged out.)

The funny in church started for me, I suppose, even before I can remember. My Mom loves to tell about the time I was three years old (long before the days of childrens church) and fully disrupted the pastors sermon to the entertainment of the congregation. As she puts it, I had begun to try to squirm away down the pew out of her reach, so she tried to discreetly pull me back to her side. When I resisted, she gently (her word) pinched me on the leg, and I bellowed, Dont pinch me!

Some thirty years later, that story came full circle. I was half-way through a Sunday morning message when lil Timmys dad had finally had enough of his worming and squirming and tried to carry him out the back door of the sanctuary. As they hit the door and with perfect timing during one of my pauses, Timmy peered over his dads shoulder and said loud enough for everyone including me to hear, Yall pray for me. We almost had to have the benediction and just leave. It was that hilarious.

Now that Im on the other side of the altar, I have to admit that even the innocent can make a mess of things, but if we keep our sense of humor such messes can become a welcomed respite from the mundane and monotonous.

In fact, I believe there to be a very fine line between sickness and sanity, and that a good, hearty laugh can make the difference between the two. Ive even been known to blur that line a bit on occasion.

For example, whenever Im in our local grocery store, Im almost always tempted to inadvertently and accidentally push my cart down the aisle of alcoholic beverages to see if I might accidentally and inadvertently run into any of my parishioners (who are supposedly of a non-drinking sect).

Sick? Perhaps, but it has also proven very, very funny more than once. Picture, if you will, turning on the light in a room full of mice. Can you say scurry?! Ive seen people scatter, carts crash into one another, and even heard one lady shriek, Its the pastoooooor! She grabbed her purse and hurriedly walked away, leaving her cart, half-full of groceries, parked in front of the bottles of wine she had been perusing.

Then there was Ralph, a prospective member who had recently begun to visit my church. I spotted him in the checkout line and slipped right in behind him. He had a cart full of every kind of beer you could imaginename brand, generic, light, dark, imported and domestic. He had just told the cashier he also needed two bags of ice when he turned and saw who was standing behind him.

I thought to myself, This is going to be special, but I sold Ralph short. He quickly turned it all the way into spectacular.

Pastor! he said with eyes almost as large as mine. Uh, this is for my yard. His Yard! He hopelessly tried to explain how the yeast in the beer did something to the bugs in the grass. I bet it would!

I started to say something like, Hey, let me follow you home, this I have to see. Beer on the yard! Which variety works the best? And how, pray tell, do you apply it, a special spreader or something?

Really, I felt bad for him. It must certainly be every imbibers worst nightmareto run into the preacher on a beer run. So, I left off my standard statement, Look, brother, if you can drink it in front of God, you can drink it in front of me. Ive used such a line before and since, but it seemed a bit too sadistic (though true) in this case.

Then the cashier innocently finished him off anyway. Sir, dont forget the ice you paid for on your way out.

Thanks, he muttered and walked off shaking his head.

Huh! I suppose the beer works better on the bugs if its chilled.

Loughlin--4