“Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.” (Luke 1:1-4)

So the story begins in the gospel of Luke, ‘For you Theophilus, my friend, my brother in Christ, to be sure that you get it right, that you understand, that you see the heart of the One who gives His life for us, that you are appropriately convinced of His Lordship, I write this story down, leaving nothing out, and careful to begin before He was even here.’ The author of Luke put this story down on paper for a reason: It was done that others might ponder as well the faithfulness of God in unexpected graces. Theophilus needed to read it and hear it and ponder it – as well as you and me 2000 years later – and I found myself pondering that notion, even savoring that notion, as I sat down to write this article this morning after seeing Jackson Cruthis last night.

For those of you who do not know or remember Jackson Cruthis, Jackson is about a year and a half old and has a kidney disorder which can only be remediated with a kidney transplant. Many of the Lebanon community have been raising funds for the Cruthis family to assist with medical expenses as Jackson continues to undergo procedure after procedure waiting for his body weight to reach a point that Jackson becomes a viable candidate for a transplant.

I saw Jackson last night at a basketball game (Where else? After all, his dad is the Varsity basketball coach and he had come to the Junior High game to see next year’s crop of players.) and, as he lay in his dad’s arms not but a few feet from me, he took in everything that was going on around him: Players talking to players, the sound of the horn as it went off, the cheers of the cheerleaders as they took the floor, the music and dance of the pom-pom squad, the conversations in the stands, and the whistles of the officials as the game moved along. Chad, Jackson’s dad, was talking to other coaches and friends around him as Jackson lay in his arms and probably didn’t notice that at one point between games, while the music in the gymnasium was at full volume (isn’t it always?) with some 80’s music and I, being the ‘dad-type weirdo’ that absolutely drives my children insane, was dancing and clapping to the music – Jackson noticed, he noticed, and he absolutely began to laugh. It wasn’t some sort of childish giggle, no, it was a full-fledged, three-alarm, down deep in the gut, all-you-have-give guffaw – and he made me laugh with his laughter. This year and a half old child whose life is always in the balance because of his kidney issues, reminds our world with laughter that, sometimes, we just take ourselves too seriously, we forget to see what is funny, to appreciate what is wonderful, to guffaw in the midst of the contests for superiority going on around us – and that is why, I think, the author of Luke begins with the story of a baby: It calls the world, and each one of us, back to reality and puts our petty certainties to shame in the face of all that is important to God.

Jesus’ entrance into the world came at a time in world history when the Jewish faith was not a world-wide faith, in fact, the world of Judaism at that time was pretty small in comparison to what God envisioned for God’s people. Jesus came into a world that was full of big government, Roman government, with politicians making deals for votes, and wars being fought on many fronts, with the average blue-collar worker barely able to scratch out a living for the family – even as a small, very small, minority of the population got richer on the efforts, even on the backs, of others below them in the social order. Jesus came into a world that had little regard for children’s laughter, but greatly revered being found to be righteous in the sight of others when it came to the major issues of the day, such as health care for the disadvantaged, taxation on all levels, class-issues and the lack of upward mobility for the average citizen, honesty in government and political fraud, immigration, government funding for local projects, and appropriateness of war that had little to do with fighting injustice and much to do with laying claim to the world’s resources.

Jesus came into a world that seldom gathered at basketball games or baseball games or football games: they had neither the time, nor the resources to blow on such extravagances. The world into which Jesus came was a world full of noise, fear, hatred, oppression, disease, greed, desire, and bigotry. It was a world and a time when people were full of themselves, whether rich or poor, and their own self-righteousness in the stands they took, whether for the government, the faith they proclaimed, or the personal beliefs they espoused: There was no room for being wrong and there was no room for grace in the conversation. You were either on the right or the left of the issue – and in the middle were all of those who didn’t matter anyway . . . and that is where the laughter begins.

God’s laughter, the guffaws of a Baby heard over the din of the world, begin in lowly Bethlehem. It begins with the story of a woman too old to conceive sharing a journey of expectancy with a woman too young to be with Child. It begins with an order of a man-made god named Caesar intersecting with the response of a God-made man named Joseph. It is laughter that begins in the unexpected joy of the moment and continues in the irony of what becomes God’s own moment of revelation. It is laughter that is barely heard beyond the walls of the stable and, yet, is declared throughout all the heavens in the voices of angels and in the appearance of a star. It is laughter that is joyfully received by those who wait in anticipation for deliverance to be announced and it is laughter which is disdained by those who fear the laughter itself will displace their self-made positions of power and prestige. It is laughter in the face of governments who believe in the power of death, even as it is laughter in the homes of those who believe in the absolute wonder of life. It is laughter on the lips of a Baby nuzzling at the breast of a maiden reminding our world that we are neither the beginning, nor the ending, but rather, pilgrims on a journey somewhere between Jerusalem and Jerusalem, and that what is between here and there belongs to the God of all creation and not to the pettiness of what we would become if left to ourselves. It is laughter from the gut of God calling us to dance and clap our hands in unexpected places, moving to the rhythm and music of heavenly choirs, even as teams of shepherds run from their locker rooms onto the floor to play, showing us what they have learned in the fields that night.

It is laughter in the words of wisdom as the story is told by the author of Luke and it is laughter in the heart of the readers, like Theophilus, who take in the words of the story and experience the meaning in their lives. It is laughter for Jackson, like old men dancing to music which is too loud in places which are way too public, laughter that cannot be contained and runs its’ course through the diaphragm of our living. It is laughter meant for the world – whose infectiousness is caught only by those who take time to notice – and it is laughter for you and me that we not lose heart on the road, knowing that the Joy is just beginning, even as Jesus enters into the world just one more time.

Thank you, Jackson, for laughing at me – and Thank you, God, for laughing with me in Jesus.