Laughter is a Love Language

If you know me, you probably know this already: I’ll do just about anything for a laugh. Seriously, it’s in my DNA. If you’re just meeting me, though, this might come as a surprise. But trust me, ask anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with me, and they’ll back me up. Laughter is like air to me—it fills me up, and I’d probably be a shell of a person without it.

Now, when I laugh, I really laugh. It’s not just a little chuckle or a polite “heh.” Oh no, I’m all in. Full body, head thrown back, the whole nine yards—just like my Granny used to. Now, she wasn’t the comedian of the family, but her laugh? It was like a symphony of joy. Loud, unashamed, and completely contagious. She could take the most boring moment and make it feel like you were in the middle of a comedy special. Every time I catch myself laughing like her, it’s like I’m getting a hug from the past.

When someone compliments my sense of humor, I always say the same thing: “Thank you, I get it from my trauma” I know, it’s awkward, but hey—it’s true! Humor is like this little secret superpower that helps you process the tough stuff. It’s like a shield, right? Show me someone with a killer sense of humor, and I’ll show you someone who’s been through some stuff. It’s just how it works. Sometimes, humor doesn’t just make things funny—it helps you survive.

Let’s be honest: for a lot of us, comedy isn’t just a talent, it’s a survival mechanism. It’s the snappy comeback you rehearse in your head before you even enter a tough conversation. It’s the sarcastic remark that keeps the tears from slipping out. And it’s the exaggerated story that takes something painful and makes it laughable, at least for a second. I’ve been through my share of tough times, and those experiences have given me plenty of “material” to work with.

I love how Proverbs 17:22 puts it: “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” I’ve had my share of days where my spirit felt crushed, but in His wisdom, God gave me humor as a sort of medicine. It’s the antidote I didn’t even know I needed.

Laughter isn’t just about entertaining people. For me, it’s a way to reclaim joy. It’s like reminding myself that no matter how dark things get, there’s always something worth smiling about. Laughter doesn’t erase the pain, but it does remind you that pain isn’t the whole story.

And you know what? Even Jesus had moments of joy. I mean, let’s not pretend the disciples were perfect. You don’t think there were a few “oh bless his heart” moments with Peter, especially when he tried to walk on water and ended up sinking like a rock? I like to imagine Jesus chuckling a little at that. Not mean-spirited, but more like “Seriously, Peter?” Kind of like how we laugh at ourselves when we do something a little ridiculous.

Now, I get it—some might say using humor to cover up pain isn’t healthy. And sure, it can be a little messy. But for me, it’s not about hiding my pain; it’s about transforming it. Pain is real, but so is joy. And sometimes, the ability to make a joke out of something heavy is like holding onto a lifeline of hope, even if it’s just for a moment.

Ecclesiastes 3:4 says there’s “a time to weep and a time to laugh.” And let me tell you, more often than not, laughter comes after the weeping. It’s not about ignoring the hard stuff—it’s about finding the grace to smile again.

So yeah, I’ll do anything for a laugh. It’s who I am, and I’m convinced God made me this way for a reason. Laughter has opened doors for me, helped me connect with others, and even allowed me to minister in ways I didn’t see coming.

When I laugh with my whole body, I think of my Granny. She taught me that laughter isn’t just about being funny—it’s about being free. It’s about letting joy overflow and spill over into the world around you.

If you’re someone who uses humor to cope with life, just know—we are in this together, friend. You are not broken. You’re beautifully complex, and your humor is a gift. Keep laughing, but remember to let the real you shine through, too.

Because sure, a good joke might bring a moment of joy, but the joy of the Lord? Now that’s something that lasts. And it’s that kind of joy—the kind that can’t be shaken—that keeps me going, one laugh at a time.