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.