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Silliness Is a Sign of Joy

In my introductory post, Toward a Manifesto of Silliness, I wrote that I asked my family: "What makes silliness important?" A second passed, and one of my sons said, "It's a sign of joy."

When I ask questions of my family -- my sons especially -- I anticipate what they might say in the hope of finding some wisdom to impart, of finding a teaching moment. This rapid-fire answer caught me off guard. I don't know why, really, but I wasn't prepared for the speed at which he answered or for the force of the answer itself.

JOY! He may as well have shouted it.

Upon reflection, I don't know what I was prepared to hear instead. Yet here I was, receiving wisdom unawares; it was the kind that strikes you on the mouth -- and you smile at the truthful ring of it. Of course!

I've had time since then to think about what the little sage said, and I keep coming back to this promise God made to his people long, long ago through the prophet Zephaniah:

"On that day they will say to Jerusalem, 'Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.' "

The historical context of these verses takes us into Israel's sorrowful history of captivity, but also into the promise of their return -- THIS is the God of the Bible! THIS is the God who holds his hand out to us in Christ! A God who will rejoice over us with singing!

Can you see him spinning you in circles because -- after all this time! -- he's brought you back! And you're in his arms, and this loud, raucous moment oddly quiets you, settles any doubts you may have had about whether he wants you. He delights and rejoices in you!

This is the joy I mean.

So when I come home from a long day at school, and my sons are marching around the kitchen with the collars of their shirts pulled up over their heads, or they're acting out some solemn drama in full regalia, or they've just dumped the lego bucket all over the living room floor, or they dance and clap after dinner to show their mother their thankfulness (one attempting the splits) -- any of this and so much more -- yes, I AM reminded why we can behave this way, why the lightness of our hearts is a fact, even in the midst of all the weight everyone is carrying right now: He loves us.

And those little clowns have reminded us once again that it's not only okay to laugh, but it's our destiny to do so with God himself, dance and song and all.

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