Why Do You Laugh?

9th Sunday after Pentecost, 8/11/19
Genesis 18:1-14


Why Do You Laugh?
I. When the Lord meets with you?
II. When the Lord promises the impossible?
III. When the Lord assures you of forgiveness?


There are few things in life as precious as a child’s laughter. What parent or grandparent won’t go to great efforts to elicit a hearty laugh out of a beloved toddler? To hear unadulterated laughter coming from the mouth of babes is memorable and fills the hearer with joy.

But I used the word “unadulterated” purposely in describing laughter. That’s because the opposite is also true. Laughter isn’t only a response of joy; it’s also the response of derision, it’s a veiled charge of foolishness, it’s an indication of doubt and even unbelief.

Sadly, the latter is the case in the event before us from Genesis 18. It’s an event familiar to many of us since this lesson is included in every Sunday School curriculum of which I’m aware. As it was read earlier, no doubt you recalled many of the details. But before we launch into applying this text to our lives, let’s be sure we recall the details of the event accurately.

Our text opens by saying that the Lord appeared to Abraham. It goes on the state that it was the heat of the day—probably early afternoon—when three men appear to him. In other words, as it becomes apparent as the text of Genesis 18 and 19 unfolds, this is none other than the Son of God and two angels.

As soon as Abraham sees these three travelers, he acts with humility and hospitality. In our day, if you see three strangers walk past your house, you might say, “Hello,” but that’s probably the extent of it. Not in Abraham’s day. Proper etiquette required you not only greet the travelers, but also to invite them into your home.

Before we go any further, let’s recall Abraham’s position in that society. He was wealthy—more than any of his neighbors. He could have snubbed these visitors as not being worthy of his time. But, no, he ran out to meet them. He pleaded with them to allow him to wash their feet and give them some food. They graciously accepted his invitation into his tent.

Meanwhile, Sarah was in her tent. Abraham doesn’t introduce her to them. He wasn’t being rude to her. This was in keeping with the norms of society. In fact, it was an act of protecting her from strangers, an act he failed to take on her behalf about 20 years earlier.

Twenty-four years earlier the Lord had appeared to Abraham and promised to give him a son by Sarah. On this day the same Lord appeared to him and told him that “about this time next year, you and your wife Sarah will have a son.” That doesn’t sound so unusual until you factor in their ages. Abraham was 99 and Sarah was 89—far past the time of childbearing years. And when Sarah in the next tent heard these words, she laughed. She laughed not out of joy, but out of doubt. I don’t think any of us blame her for her response. But the Lord did. He asked, “Why did Sarah laugh?”

Our focus this morning will not be so much on why Sarah laughed, but why do we. Why do you laugh? That’s a Grand Canyon sized question, so follow with me as I intend to show you what I mean.

Part I.

So, Sarah laughed when the Lord declared that within a few months at the most she was going to become pregnant and give birth. Since she was in her own tent, did she know who was speaking these words? We’re not sure. We are certain that 24 years earlier Abraham shared the Lord’s promise with her that he was going to give them a child. So now this “stranger” arrives and repeats that promise and even adds details to it. I’d like to think that Sarah put 2 and 2 together and arrived at 4—this was the Lord.

Perhaps Abraham knew. The children of Abraham, centuries later, indicated that they thought he did know by the way that they wrote the word for “lord” in the Hebrew text when Abraham addressed the one stranger as “lord” in our version. What we do know, is that by the end of the visit, he was absolutely sure it was the Lord his God. The Lord had come to meet him and Sarah, to visit with them, to speak with them, to declare his promises to them.

You and I can debate if Abraham and Sarah wondered about the identity of the stranger or not. But you and I don’t have to wonder who has come to meet with us. What do I mean? Well, in four months we’ll be on the cusp of celebrating the birth of Christ. The point of Christmas is that God was born as a human being into our world to meet with us, to talk with us, to declare his promises to us.

He has come to meet with us today through his word. Every time we hear or read God’s word, the Holy Spirit is bringing Jesus to us. We are sitting in our “tents,” listening to what he has to say, words of eternal life.

And in a few minutes the Lord will meet with us in a most holy and miraculous way. In the bread and wine of Communion he gives us his very body and blood to eat and to drink. In the miracle of the Real Presence Jesus meets with us to strengthen our faith and assure us of eternal life. Where else, how else, can the Lord meet with you in such a way?

But a better question is this: what’s your reaction to this heavenly opportunity? Do you laugh? I hope not. I would hope you don’t laugh in derision or disbelieve as Sarah did, but is your reaction to the opportunity to meet with Jesus everything it should be? Or, is your reaction tainted with a sense of obligation? As you meet with him, is your participation mindless, rote, mere formalism without any spiritual substance? How often has Jesus met with you but you can’t recall half of what he said or what you said? Pitiful, isn’t it? It’s almost as if Jesus was speaking and we laughed.

But Jesus knows that’s no laughing matter. That’s what he came at Christmas. That’s why he suffered and died on Good Friday and rose from the dead on Easter. He made you his own, he washed your sins away, and he assured you of a place in heaven right next to him where he will meet with you eternally. That’s nothing to laugh at.

Part II.

When you get home, check the Guinness Book of World Records for the oldest woman to conceive a child. It won’t be anywhere near 89. That’s impossible. That’s what Sarah thought, and that’s why she laughed.

But our God is known for doing the impossible. That’s what our Savior Jesus was all about. God become a man via a virgin birth. Impossible. He died for the sins of the world. Impossible. Jesus raised himself from the dead. Impossible.

And he’s done the impossible in you and me. He took people who came into this world sinful, wanting nothing to do with him, and made them his children by faith in Jesus. That’s humanly impossible, but that’s what God does. He washed away our sins by the death of his Son. He has a place in heaven reserved for you. Those are humanly impossible, but not for God.

And he will do the impossible for you. He promises on the Last Day to raise your decaying body from the grave, glorify it and take you to heaven, soul and body. And as you wait for that day to occur, he promises to turn out everything for your good, even the tragedies of living in this dark and sinful world.

Do you laugh at his promises to do the impossible? Maybe not out loud. But we wonder how God can turn the tragedy in Dayton 7 days ago into good for us. We wonder how God can do the impossible when your grandmother suffers from irreversible dementia and your grandfather is literally working himself into an early grave caring for her 24-7. How will God do the impossible for the terminally ill child in the local children’s hospital? He will, where there is faith in Jesus. In Jesus he does the impossible. In Jesus he makes all things right for his people. He will do the impossible. That’s no laughing matter.

Part III.

On this day, after speaking with Abraham, the Lord didn’t storm into Sarah’s tent and fry her like an egg for her lack of faith. No, he did what the Lord always does for his people. He forgave her and empowered her to be the mother of his chosen people.

As he left her that day, did she feel guilty for laughing? We don’t know. If she was anything like me, like you, she did.

That’s the way it is with every one of God’s people. We know what Jesus did to forgive all our sins, and we still carry guilt, like a truck tire around our necks. And it’s crushing at times. We even feel guilty about things we didn’t cause. Talk to some of the people who are facing survivor guilt from last Sunday’s murders. They’ll tell you how it feels.

So what should we do with our guilt? Laughing won’t help. Making light of it won’t make it go away. Self-medicating might work for a while, but when the buzz is gone the pain returns, only deeper.

The solution? Don’t laugh at sin. Realize that it cost your Savior his life. Don’t try covering guilt with a band-aid. It’s useless, laughable. Instead, take it to the cross of Jesus. The One who spoke words of forgiveness for his enemies who nailed him to the cross assures you of your forgiveness. And when the guilt of past sins arises once again, realize that’s because we know our sins so well and how terribly we’ve offended our God. That’s why we doubt that God could love us enough to forgive us. But he does. It’s why he sacrificed his best for you—his one and only Son. He spared nothing so that you could possess everything with him.

That’s nothing to laugh at. But it’s all the reason to rejoice! So live your life in praise to the Lord who meets with you, who does the impossible for you, who assures you of your forgiveness every day. And then ask yourself, “Why am I laughing?” Answer? Out holy joy worked in us by God himself. Amen.