He is Not a Gloomy God

by Martin Peter Mburu

He laughed.

He laughed along a solemn hymn

He laughed in church

He laughed while reading Leviticus and Job

He laughed.

Every time they looked at him, he was always laughing. But when he laughed at a funeral, they decided that was it and it was time for intervention. A brother was in trouble.

The small crumpled room was only big enough for their physical bodies, but not the burdens in their hearts. “Brothers and sisters, we have a duty to teach, admonish, and correct one another. We are a brother’s keeper.” Their leader addressed the eight brethren after reading the relevant portions of Scripture. “We need to pray and fast for two days, then call him for a meeting.”

On a joyful Wednesday afternoon, May Killjoy and her deputy, Will Depressyou, sat with the other seven brothers and sisters waiting for Alljoy. They had arrived thirty minutes early to prepare.

Alljoy strolled in at 3 pm sharp, as requested. “Praise the Lord, brethren. I am so happy to be here with you; I even brought gifts.” He gave each a candy as he shook their hands.

Before he could settle in, Killjoy spoke. Her words betrayed the impatience and turmoil within. Depressyou, sitting next to her, embellished her words and punctuated her sentences with nods.

“Alljoy, we are concerned about you.”

“How so, my dear brothers and sisters?”

“After much prayer and fasting, we have concluded your excessive joy, uncontrollable and inappropriate laughter—

Alljoy laughed out loud.

“You are taking drugs and we have come to pray for your deliverance.”

Alljoy burst into earth-moving laughter. Like a bushfire, the infectious laughter spread throughout the room.

Killjoy and Depressyou despised the candy, the laughter, and their seven companions. They stomped out, manhandling the door and crushing the door frame.

Their departure increased the joyful laughter in the room. Two of their companions rolled off their chairs.

“I don’t want whatever drug or spiritual influence near me.” Killjoy’s abrupt farewell words faithfully followed them out as a double portion of laughter spread across the room.  

After what seemed like hours, Alljoy took a break from the laughter to speak. “Brethren, I don’t take drugs… I have never… I am just high with the Holy Spirit.” This increased the laughter.

“I grew tired of the gloomy face of salvation and asked God for more joy and laughter in my life.” Once again, his words added to the laughter. The eight brethren were now enjoying their laughter fellowship on the floor in a variety of postures.

“God answered my prayers. He also warned me not to expect a red carpet of joyful, laughing brethren. But to expect the prick of the thorn of persecution from those who have never experienced the true freedom and joy.”

Alljoy wasn’t sure anyone was hearing his words in the tears of joy, aches, pains and contractions of laughter. But someone spoke.

“Alljoy, preach on! We are so used to tears that we have forgotten the joy of the Lord.”

“No, He is not a gloomy God.”


“He is not a gloomy God.”

“He is not a gloomy God.”

“He is not a gloomy God.”

The chorus sang in the rhythm of laughter. The laughter even made all the voices sound the same. It was hard to tell who was speaking or laughing.

“We will pray for Killjoy and Depressyou.”

“Not today, though.”

The already enraptured muscles were too drained to produce more words, but renewed enough to burst and twist into more laughter.

Martin Peter Mburu Waweru is a born-again Christian who loves writing, storytelling, blogging, and talking about Jesus. He lives with his family in Nairobi, Kenya. Martin has a PhD in Theoretical Linguistics, a Master’s in English and linguistics and a Bachelor’s in education. He has over fifteen years of experience teaching English, linguistics and writing at the university. He has published several textbooks for use in Kenyan schools. He has self-published two Christian stories: Mama’s Boardroom and The Last Sermon. They are on Amazon. Currently, he writes Christian fiction and coaches and trains Christian creatives.

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