Posted by Danny

I remember sleeping in my mom’s lap during Sunday worship service as a kid.  I’d stretch out on the second row, my head in her handmade ensemble; her pocketbook nearby.  Half way through the service she would give me a half piece of gum.  Half, I suppose, so I wouldn’t have much to smack on.

Sometimes I struggle with the balance between fun and reverence.  Occasionally during a prayer on Sunday I find my hand wrapped around one of the girls.  My finger falls right at their armpit – and I simply can’t resist.  A quick poke, or two, and the giggles start.  I work to shush them – but it’s 100% my fault.

Does God laugh at us or shoot down a frown?  I’m not sure.

Last week we were driving home from church and Stephanie was working on learning the books of the bible.  She was actually doing a pretty good job but continued to get stumped on the book Obadiah.  “I can’t remember that book!”

“Obadiah, Obadiah, Obadiah” I repeat with the hope that she will absorb the rhythm.  As Stephanie echoes my chant, a voice from the back yells out:

“Obadiarrhea!”

And it was over.  All four of us doubled over in laughter. 

Obadiarrhea?  Seriously?

Part of me felt like I should scowl a bit at my youngest kid.  But I couldn’t.  Instead I joined in with the others “Obadiarrhea!  Obadiarrhea!  You’ve got Obadiarrhea.”

I think God is like a really fun grandfather.  One that gets on the floor and plays with you.  One that you can sort of crawl up in his lap.  Maybe a grandfather that would laugh with you – even if you irreverently misnamed a book of His bible.