There is a very frustrating—and disturbing—type of question I’ve been asked more and more frequently over these past several years, as I have devoted more time to the word of God.
“Mike, why do you have to be so serious all the time?” or
“Mike, why do you have to be so intense all the time?” or
“Mike, if you have grown so much closer to the LORD, where is your Joy? Something must be wrong.”
Why do I find myself so disturbed by questions like these? Well, I guess I will give the answer you might expect: because I view these as very serious questions!
Why are they so serious to me? First, because they are more than just questions; they are accusations. The accusation is that I have responded improperly or with imbalance to the message I am reading. Secondly, these "questions" often link the serious and intense response of my life with the joy in my heart. They are an evaluation of the fruit on my tree, and that is a very serious matter. A tree is known by its fruit. The condition of a tree is revealed by the quality and quantity of its fruit.
Furthermore, a tree that does not bear fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire (Matthew 7:19). The fruit on my tree is the evidence of my salvation. A man who does not bear fruit may have deceived himself, and his eternity could be at stake. There could not be a more serious type of question. It is a charge—an accusation—of the highest nature.
I respond to my accusers and tell them they are wrong. I explain that I have more joy than ever, that my intensity and seriousness are justified, and that they are the ones taking matters too lightly. But sometimes I wonder: what if they are right?
And therefore, considering the gravity of the charges at hand, I see no other option available. My joy, intensity, and seriousness—the demeanor of my life and the response of my heart—must be examined. They must be put on trial!
And so, I open the doors to the courtroom of my heart and let the trial begin: court is now in session.
I first ask myself: what if the very basis of the accusation is wrong? Could my accusers be misinformed? What if I am not a serious person at all? What if those who accuse me just don’t really know me and have evaluated my life incorrectly?
My accusers call those who know me best to the stand. My family!
One by one, my wife and children give their testimony. Their reports are consistent with one another. Each begins by saying he is one of the goofiest people they have ever known—rivaled only by his daughter Madeline. They assure the courtroom that if there were a “dad-joke” competition nearby, he’d have a pretty good shot at winning it.
However, the countenance on their faces change as they give their final assessment. One by one, they reluctantly agree with my accusers: goofiness and jokes—smiles, lightheartedness, and laughter—do not characterize his life. They may be the tone of his day, but not the essence of his life. They agree with the charges against me: he would be defined as an extremely serious and intense man.
My own heart agrees with them. The more I have read the Bible: the more intense—and serious—and solemn I have become. But that doesn’t mean I am right. I could be misinterpreting these words I am reading. What if the enemy has played a great trick on me? Now that I have established that the charges against me are valid, the questions to be answered must be defined.
How do I know if I have real Christian Joy? What does joy look like in the life of a Christian—on this side of heaven? Is it a feeling inside of me? That seems a bit subjective, as my feelings change like the wind. Does joy always show on a person’s face? Is the expression on one’s face, on any given day, an accurate indicator of the joy in their heart, on that day?
But I’m also examining much more than just one single Fruit of the Spirit on any given day. This isn’t about the demeanor of my face; it’s about the demeanor of my entire life. I am examining the entire response of a Christian’s life to the message of the Gospel. What is the proper response? Should it be intense and serious, or lighthearted and jovial?
Now that the questions to be answered have been established, I must call the First Witness to the stand!
Lord, although I tremble at the thought, may I humbly ask You – the only true Judge – to step into the imperfect courtroom of my heart, and allow me to interrogate You?
With perfect gentleness and kindness, as if reversing roles were His greatest delight and specialty, He politely obliges my request and takes a seat at the witness stand.
My Lord, You are the Great Example to be followed – The Origin and Source of all Joy – the Eternal Tree – What did Your fruit look like? What was the tone and demeanor of Your life? What was the response of your life to the situation at hand? What is Your Word on these matters?
As I listen to the testimony of His Word about Himself, I am shocked by what I hear—and perhaps even more shocked by what I do not hear. There is not a single mention of smiles and laughter in all of His testimony to the courtroom.
That’s right: there is no record of Jesus laughing in any of the four Gospel accounts, nor is there any clear or direct reference to even a smile on His face. Doesn’t that seem a bit odd?
I quietly think to myself, I have watched a few episodes of “The Chosen” and saw Him laughing, joking, and smiling all the time. But the actual Word of God records none of those things. That often overlooked second commandment – the one about making no “graven images” of God – comes racing to my mind. Hmmm, could this be one of the reasons why He said it? Could a false image in the mind of a Christian throw off the entire trajectory and response of their life? I then realize, I’ve gotten distracted in the courtroom; “The Chosen” is not on trial today—The Witness is on the stand. I dare not waste any of His time. I immediately get back to those words: the ones said, and the ones not said.
He wept at the death of His friend Lazarus (John 11:35). He felt compassion as He looked upon the lost multitudes (Matthew 9:36). He wept again as He considered the fate of Jerusalem (Luke 19:41). He was filled with righteous anger—twice—as He drove the money changers out of the temple (Matthew 21:12). He shed more tears—this time of blood—as He agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane (Luke 22:44). All these descriptions of Him, of His emotions, His demeanor, and the things He did and said, are clear; and yet, when it comes to smiles and laughter, there is only a peculiar silence. I find myself perplexed by the testimony of The Witness, but the words of American minister Leroy Brownlow also come to mind: “There are times when silence has the loudest voice.”
I tell myself, there is no way I can believe Jesus did not laugh or smile; but then I remember the testimony my family gave just minutes ago in the courtroom. I do laugh and smile, but laughter and smiles do not characterize my life. These things do not describe me at my core and would paint an inaccurate picture of who I am. Could it be the same for Jesus? Were these things possibly not recorded because God did not want to risk painting an inaccurate picture of who He was—and therefore, of who we are supposed to be while on this Earth?
Is the evidence possibly pointing in my favor? I cannot be sure yet, and there is too much at stake! I must find an accurate and reliable description of who He was while He walked this Earth. I cannot settle for accounts of what He did on a particular day; I must find a description of the demeanor of His entire life. I now call the great prophet Isaiah to the witness stand.
Isaiah, you walked hundreds of years before Him, but your testimony is still perfect and true. What do you say about Him? What do you say about the questions I ask today? What is a proper response to the message I have read?
He responds as any great saint would: He directs all eyes in the courtroom away from himself and to the only One worth gazing upon. He describes the Origin and Source of all Joy with words that cause confusion in the courtroom: “He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).
Although many in the courtroom are surprised by his words, his testimony seems to agree with both the words, and the silence, of my First Witness. Isaiah has confirmed all of the weeping, tears, and agony!
My heart breathes a sigh of relief; the words of the great prophet sound an awful lot like a life that was solemn—and serious! I think to myself: surely a life cannot be described as full of sorrows, tears, and grief; and at the same time be characterized as a life of lightheartedness, jolly, and cheer. No, weeping and agony do not coexist with levity and laughter.
That confusion and chaos in the courtroom grow, until finally the prosecution cries out with a loud voice, “Objection, Your Honor! How could His life be summarized by such words? Surely, He was a man of great joy? Where was His joy in all that weeping and agony? Was it diminished? Did one fruit cease to exist while the others abounded?”
The judge is frustrated not only by the disorder in his courtroom, but even more so by the foolishness of the question. He reminds not only the prosecutor but everyone in the courtroom of the dangerous ground they are treading on. "You are questioning the immutability of God—suggesting that there could ever be a moment when He ceases to be fully perfect! Your foolish question would cause all of heaven to tremble. The Eternal Tree cannot and will not ever cease to produce ALL of its fruit. Anything less and He would not be God. Anything less and the heavens themselves would fall apart, the galaxies would cease to exist, and your very existence would be brought to nothing." The judge’s words are filled with righteous anger as he sternly replies, “OBJECTION OVERRULED!”
As I consider the words I had just heard from the judge (and the multitudes of suffering and persecuted Christians through the ages) it occurs to me: if it is utterly impossible for the fruit on the Eternal Tree to wane, then even as He was scourged, even as the nails plunged deep into His bones, even as He hung on that cross, He was always full of Joy! Indeed, joy cannot be tied solely to the demeanor of one’s face on any given day. Yes, it is indeed possible for a heart to be: solemn, sad, or in agony and grief, and yet still overflow with Joy.
The scales are tipping more and more in my favor. The Word says that a truth must be confirmed by two or three witnesses, and my first two agree. But once again, we are talking about fruit, and there could be eternal implications. Two witnesses are not enough; I must call a third witness to the stand!
My brother Peter, you are one of the Holy Apostles. Your words are true. How do you testify on these matters? Considering the message we have received, and the reality of our current situation, what is a proper response?
With fire in his eyes, and a Holy zeal in his voice, Peter’s words bring a silence and sobriety to the courtroom:
“If you call on Him as Father, who judges impartially according to each one’s deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot” (1 Peter 1:17–19).
Fear...throughout…the time of your exile! Why? Because of the preciousness of His blood!
I think to myself: I can interpret it no other way: the Christian life is serious. It is solemn. Lightheartedness, smiles, and laughter are neither the evidence of joy, or the response of a mature Christian life.
With righteous anger—and some undealt-with pride—my eyes quickly turn from the witness to my accusers as my hand reaches for the gavel, and the verdict nearly comes spewing out of my mouth.
But then I remember that any judge worth his salt will also consider case precedent. Is there precedent for such a verdict? Have other Christians throughout the ages put these matters on trial? What was their verdict? What does 2,000 years of church history have to say about these things? Our forefathers must take the stand. There is more testimony to be considered.
Augustine takes his seat on the witness stand and testifies about the trial he presided over in the late 4th century. What was the verdict you issued, Augustine?
"To fall in love with God is the greatest romance; to seek Him, the greatest adventure; to find Him, the greatest human achievement. This quest demands a seriousness and devotion that cannot be taken lightly."
Augustine is not satisfied that he has made his point…
"Let us never forget, beloved, that life is an arduous journey towards the eternal and unchangeable truth. It is not a path of ease, laughter, or jesting, but a pilgrimage that requires a serious commitment to the virtues of faith, hope, and charity."
John Owen then steps up to the stand and proclaims the verdict he reached in his 17th-century trial:
"The whole life of a Christian should be nothing but a preparation for heaven, and everything in his life should be ordered with that respect. Hence, there is no room for trifling or for a light and careless spirit."
Richard Baxter quickly takes the stand and declares a similar verdict from another 17th-century trial:
"Seriousness is the very soul of religion. As true religion is the highest thing, it calls for the deepest seriousness and excludes all levity and lightness of spirit."
Thomas Watson takes the stand and reads the verdict from yet another well-known 17th century trial:
"A Christian must not only be serious but solemn. Religion is a serious business; it is not to be taken lightly. The way to heaven is a way of strictness, and it calls for great diligence and carefulness."
And finally, the great Charles Spurgeon—the one whom all in the courtroom love to hear quoted on a Sunday morning—steps up to the stand and reads the verdict from his own 19th-century trial:
"The Christian’s life is not to be one of levity or foolish jesting. There is a time to laugh, but our walk with God is a serious matter. It requires a heart set on holiness and a mind fixed on eternal realities."
With those final words from Spurgeon, the judge of my heart is satisfied. The courtroom listens as he reads the verdict…
To all those who question my intensity and seriousness, to those who question the tone and demeanor of my life:
As you would certainly expect, I have taken your inquiries and accusations as seriously as I take all aspects of my life. I have conducted a thorough and intense examination of myself, putting the joy in my heart and the solemn, serious response of my life to the messages I read in the Scriptures on trial. Our Savior, the prophet Isaiah, the Apostle Peter, and two thousand years of church history have come to the same verdict as I have: the Christian life could not be a more serious and solemn endeavor. That is the only proper response. The case is hereby settled, and the verdict is as follows: The defendant is NOT GUILTY!
I could have called more witnesses. Indeed, the other prophets and apostles were eager to testify, and there was an endless supply of case precedent to choose from. But the verdict would have been the same, and I chose not to weary those in the courtroom.
It is my conclusion that there has never been any other proper response to the shedding of His blood and the eternal realities at stake; than to approach these few fleeting moments with fear and trembling—with a HOLY intensity!
It is only now, in the last 100–150 years, that we have discovered another acceptable response to the Christian life. It is only now that the church has come to the realization that a proper response is to trample on His blood, by living lives of levity and laughter.
So, with the love of a brother in Christ, I now ask you a question: Will you examine yourself in the same way I have? Will you put your life of laughter, smiles, and lightheartedness on trial? Will you examine the response of your life and the demeanor of your heart as I have done? Will you call your witnesses to the stand and show me your case precedent?
As you know, I believe this is a very serious matter! I believe eternity may be at stake. In light of the overwhelming testimony you have heard, and the verdict I have reached; I now believe the burden of proof is on you!
May these words from our Lord – the only two verses He ever mentions on laughter – be like an annoying splinter in your flesh, until your gavel comes down…
"Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh…Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep" (Luke 6:21,25).