He Who Sins Worst, Laughs Best

In our care group tonight we were talking about serious stuff. We're going through Dave Harvey's book When Sinners Say "I Do."

We talked about sin. Some of us are "overt" ("out there") when we sin (you know exactly what's on our minds). Some are covert (quieter, "hidden," and controlled). We talked about what it means to see oneself as the worst of sinners. We talked about true guilt (you have sinned and thus are guilty) vs. false guilt (feeling guilty when you haven't done anything wrong).

But in spite of the serious topic, we found ourselves laughing hard. Again. It happens every time we get together.

I didn't mean to crack everyone up, but I said, "I'm guilty of false innocence."

At first they were silent, squinting, and saying, "Huh?"

Then I explained. "I have this tendency to think, 'Who, me? What have I done wrong? Me at fault? You've got to be kidding!' I am the only one who believes I'm innocent. That's what I mean by being guilty of false innocence."

The harder I tried to be clear, the dumber I sounded.

They lost it. I lost it. I lost it so bad I started stomping and honking through the nose and wheezing. I hate when that happens. Is anything more attractive? I had to use the notebook to hide my red, honking schnoz.

A little while later (after some successful discussion of the serious type) Paul's shoulders started shaking.

"What's so funny?" I asked him quietly. He shook his head, but began snorting. "Tell me!" I said too loudly. Now everyone wanted in on it.

"I was just thinking, " Paul said to the begging group, "If you're waking up with the worst of sinners, you should sleep on the other side."