There is a particular look that some Christians have perfected.

You know the one.

The slightly furrowed brow. The solemn expression. The carefully calibrated nod during the sermon. The kind of face that says, “I am currently contemplating the weight of eternity, so please do not make me laugh.”

It is the face of someone who understands that church is serious business.

And, to be fair, it is. Jesus did die for our sins. So obviously, we should look like it. No smiling too broadly. No spontaneous laughter. Certainly, no inappropriate enthusiasm. Keep the volume down. Keep the emotions in check. And whatever you do, do not clap during worship…especially if you can’t clap on 2 & 4! 

We don’t want to get carried away or someone might think we’re having fun. And we can’t have that. After all, we’re Christians.

We are supposed to be serious, reverent, appropriate, thoughtful, intellectually respectable and just a little bit uncomfortable. Especially during worship.

If the sermon is funny, we should probably resist laughing too loudly. 

If the music is upbeat, we should probably stand there politely.

If someone gets excited, we should look at them with a look that firmly communicates, “lock it up!”

And if someone actually raises their hands? Well…we should probably have a meeting about that.

Here’s the problem with all of this: While, yes, Jesus died for our sins, sometimes we look like we have forgotten that Jesus rose from the dead.

That’s kind of a big deal. The Christian story does not end at Good Friday. We don’t gather every Sunday to commemorate the tragic death of a really nice religious teacher. We gather because the tomb is empty. We gather because death didn’t get the last word. We gather because sin doesn’t get the last word. We gather because despair doesn’t get the last word. We gather because Jesus is alive!

And yet sometimes one would think the defining theological statement of the Christian faith was: “Please remain calm throughout the gathering.”

Somewhere along the way, we’ve confused reverence with solemnity and depth with seriousness. But those aren’t the same things.

There is a time for silence. There is a time for lament. There is a time to grieve, to repent, to confess, to sit quietly in the presence of suffering.

Christianity has room for all of that.

But Christianity also has room for laughter. For celebration. For music that makes you want to move. For stories that make you laugh until you cry. For children making noise. For people singing badly but enthusiastically. For spontaneous applause. For mistakes. For warmth. For joy.

Consider the Jesus we actually encounter in the Gospels. Jesus went to dinner parties. He ate with people respectable religious folks didn’t think he should be eating with. He told stories. He used exaggeration. He talked about camels going through the eyes of needles and people swallowing camels while straining gnats. He called Herod a fox. He compared religious leaders to whitewashed tombs. He told stories about prodigal sons, lost coins, runaway sheep, dishonest managers and people throwing parties. He touched unclean people. He laughed. He cried. He celebrated.

And, apparently, when a wedding ran out of wine, Jesus decided the appropriate response was not a lecture on responsible event planning. He turned water into wine…to keep the hosts from being embarrassed AND to keep the party going. Not only that, his mother made him do it!

Now, do a little research and you’ll discover that there have been Christians trying to make the case that Jesus just made grape juice or refreshing purified water. We have apparently reached the point where we will do anything to make Jesus less fun. Because heaven forbid somebody discovers that the guy we worship actually knew how to throw a party.

With all of that, I find myself wondering, “what does our Christianity look like to people who aren’t Christians? Do they see something compelling? Do they see people who have discovered a deeper way to live? Do they see love? Hope? Generosity? Compassion? Laughter? Freedom? Joy?

Or do they see people who look perpetually annoyed that other people are enjoying themselves?

If the gospel is good news, shouldn’t there be at least some visible evidence that we’ve heard it?

Mike Yaconelli, in his book “Dangerous Wonder: The Adventure of Childlike Faith” wrote, “Christianity is not about learning how to live within the lines; Christianity is about the joy of coloring. The grace of God is preposterous enough to accept as beautiful a coloring that anyone else would reject as ugly. The grace of God sees beyond the scribbling to the heart of the scribbler – a scribbler who is similar to two thieves who hung on crosses on either side of Jesus. One of the two asked Jesus to please accept his scribbled and sloppy life into the kingdom of God and He did. Preposterous. And very good news for the rest of us scribblers.

I love that. Because perhaps we’ve spent too much time teaching people to stay inside the lines and not enough time helping them discover the joy of being alive in Christ.

Yaconelli was also fond of reminding the church that real spirituality is messy, unfinished and imperfect. In other words, faith doesn’t require us to become a collection of perfectly polished religious people.

Now, before someone writes an angry comment, I’m not arguing for shallow worship.

I’m not suggesting that every sermon needs to be a stand-up comedy routine. I’m not saying every hymn needs a drum solo. I’m not saying we should replace theology with confetti.

There is something beautiful about reverence. There are moments when the appropriate response to God is silence. There are Sundays when we need to sit with grief. There are prayers that should make us uncomfortable. There are Scriptures that should challenge us. There are moments when worship should bring us to our knees.

But here’s the thing…reverence doesn’t require joylessness. Depth doesn’t require boredom. Intellectual substance doesn’t require emotional constipation. And holiness doesn’t require looking like you just sucked on a lemon.

We can be thoughtful and joyful. Reverent and exuberant. Theologically serious and capable of laughing at ourselves.

We can sing ancient hymns and contemporary songs. We can sit in silence and clap our hands. We can pray the Psalms and dance. We can weep over the brokenness of the world and still throw a party when someone comes home.

That’s not theological inconsistency. That’s the Christian life.

In “Everybody, Always: Becoming Love in a World Full of Setbacks and Difficult People,” author Bob Goff wrote, “When joy is a habit, love is a reflex.”

Think about that. When joy is a habit, love is a reflex.

Maybe that’s part of what we’ve forgotten. Joy isn’t just something we feel when circumstances are good. Joy is a way of seeing. A way of living. A way of saying that the resurrection has changed the way we understand the world.

Joy says: Yes, the world is broken. Yes, people are hurting. Yes, there is injustice. Yes, there is grief. Yes, there are things worth fighting for.

And yet…God is good. Love is real. Grace is bigger than our failures. Hope is stronger than despair. Jesus is alive.

That’s not childish optimism. That’s resurrection faith.

Maybe what the church needs isn’t more people trying to look holy. Maybe we need more people who actually look alive. People who laugh easily. People who welcome warmly. People who sing like they mean it. People who aren’t afraid to clap. People who can admit when they screwed something up. People who aren’t embarrassed by enthusiasm. People who aren’t afraid to tell someone, “I’m really glad you’re here.” People whose faith spills over into generosity, kindness, justice, hospitality and joy. People who have so deeply encountered the love of God that they can’t quite contain it.

Because that’s what love does. It spills over. It gets messy. It gets loud. It throws parties. It welcomes outsiders. It feeds people. It dances. It sings. It laughs. It weeps. It embraces. It celebrates.

And sometimes it probably makes the religious people nervous…which I think is great because Jesus had a habit of doing that.

So…No more boring Christians. No more uninspired worship. No more acting like enthusiasm is a spiritual defect. No more confusing a frown with holiness. No more assuming that serious faith requires a serious face. No more apologizing for joy.

Let’s be people who actually look like we believe the gospel is good news. Let’s sing. Let’s laugh. Let’s clap. Let’s celebrate. Let’s make room for the awkward, the imperfect, the exuberant and the beautifully messy. Let’s worship with our minds and our hearts and our bodies.

Let’s make our churches places where people don’t just hear about the love of God. Let’s make them places where people can actually feel it.

Because Jesus didn’t say, “By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you maintain an appropriately solemn demeanor.”

He said: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” ~ John 13:35

And Jesus said: “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” ~ John 15:11

Complete joy. Not carefully managed joy. Not appropriately subdued joy. Not please keep your joy within the approved liturgical boundaries joy. Complete joy.

So let’s be salt and light. Not lemon juice in a paper cut.

Let’s be people whose presence makes the world taste a little better and look a little brighter. Let’s be people who carry hope into the room. Let’s be people whose love is obvious. Let’s be people whose laughter isn’t an embarrassment but a testimony.

Let’s be people who live as though Easter actually happened. Because it did.

Christ is risen. So, for God’s sake, let’s smile.