Sigmund Freud argued that humour allows for the discharge of psychological tension,¹ while later theorists have described it as a means of coping with incongruity, suffering, or social strain.² Such observations suggest that humour often arises in response to the burdens of human existence. This raises an important theological question: whether a mechanism oriented toward relief is appropriate within the context of divine worship, where the aim is not relief but reverent engagement with God.

This question becomes more acute when one considers the claim, advanced by Dahmen, that God possesses a “sense of humour.” Within the Reformed tradition, divine attributes are derived from Scripture and articulated with careful attention to the Creator–creature distinction. The classical attributes of God include holiness, justice, wisdom, goodness, immutability, and sovereignty, but humour is not enumerated among them.³ This omission reflects a principled restraint. As Bavinck explains, Scripture frequently accommodates its language to human understanding, yet such accommodation must not be mistaken for literal attribution of human psychological states to God.⁴ To ascribe humour to God risks importing a mutable, creaturely disposition into the divine nature without sufficient biblical warrant.

Contemporary homiletical literature has increasingly advocated for the intentional use of humour in preaching. Alyce M. McKenzie and Owen Hanley Lynch, who are neither Reformed or Confessional,  argue that humour may be understood as a gift associated with human creatureliness and that it can serve constructive purposes within preaching.⁵ However, such claims rest on a theological assumption that is not supported within the confessional Reformed tradition. While it is true that human beings are created in the image of God, it does not follow that all human capacities or tendencies may be directly ascribed to God as attributes. Classical Reformed theology distinguishes carefully between communicable attributes, which reflect God’s moral perfections, and creaturely features that arise within the conditions of human finitude and fallenness.⁶ Humour, particularly in its common function as a mechanism of relief or incongruity, is not presented in Scripture as a divine perfection. The attempt to ground humour in the imago Dei therefore risks an unwarranted projection of human experience onto the divine nature. Moreover, when such a premise is carried into homiletics, it reorients preaching toward human receptivity and engagement rather than the proclamation of divine truth in the fear of God.

Two biblical passages are frequently cited in support of the idea that God “laughs.” Psalm 2:4 states, “He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision,” while Psalm 37:13 declares that “the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he sees that his day is coming.” Reformed exegesis has consistently understood such language as anthropomorphic. Calvin explains that this “laughter” signifies not amusement but the utter futility of human rebellion in the face of divine sovereignty.⁷ It is judicial and derisive, not playful. These texts therefore do not support the claim that God possesses humour in any ordinary sense; rather, they express the certainty of divine judgment in figurative terms.

The implications of this theological framework for preaching are substantial. In the Reformed tradition, a sermon is not merely religious discourse but the public proclamation of the Word of God to His people.⁸ The preacher stands not as an entertainer but as a herald. This act of proclamation constitutes more than instruction; it is an event in which God addresses His people through His Word. The pulpit is therefore a place of divine encounter, where the realities of judgment, grace, and salvation are set forth with authority.

For this reason, the governing category of preaching is not simply seriousness but the fear of God. Scripture repeatedly frames worship and speech in these terms: “Serve the Lord with fear” (Ps. 2:11), and “let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:28–29). The preacher’s task is to speak in a manner consistent with this reality. The dominant themes of Scripture—namely, the holiness of God and the depravity of humanity—demand a corresponding tone of reverence. Isaiah’s vision of divine holiness (Isa. 6:3) and Paul’s universal indictment of sin (Rom. 3:23) establish the gravity of the biblical message. These are not themes that naturally admit of levity.

This concern is further sharpened when the ministry of the Holy Spirit in preaching is considered. In Reformed theology, the preaching of the Word is not merely an act of instruction but a means of grace through which the Holy Spirit operates. The Spirit works through the Word to convict of sin, reveal righteousness, and impress the reality of judgment upon the conscience (John 16:8).⁹ As Calvin emphasises, the Word is the instrument by which the Spirit applies divine truth to the hearts of hearers.¹⁰ Preaching is therefore not a neutral or purely human activity, but the appointed means by which divine truth is effectually brought to bear upon the soul.

This reality is inseparable from the Reformed understanding of Christ’s presence in the preaching of the Word. The Second Helvetic Confession affirms that the preaching of the Word of God is to be regarded as the Word of God.¹¹ In faithful proclamation, Christ addresses His people through Scripture. The sermon is thus a moment of divine address.

These doctrines have significant implications for the use of humour in preaching. Where the Spirit’s work is to press conviction, any element that relieves that pressure must be approached with the utmost caution. Humour, particularly when it introduces levity into passages dealing with sin or judgment, may function as a release from the very conviction the Spirit is bringing. In such cases, it does not merely affect tone but risks interrupting the experiential impact of the Word. The hearer is momentarily lifted out from under the weight of divine truth, rather than being pressed more deeply into it.

Moreover, if preaching is the appointed means by which Christ addresses His people, then the introduction of levity at that point is not a neutral stylistic choice, but a matter that touches upon how the voice of Christ Himself is treated. To introduce humour in a manner that diminishes the gravity of the message is to risk treating lightly what is, in reality, the authoritative address of Christ to His church. The issue is therefore not merely one of appropriateness, but of theological coherence.

This concern is not merely theoretical. It arises concretely in the evaluation of contemporary preaching. The defence offered in response to concerns I raised about deliberate jokes concerning the themes of judgment, sacrifice, and ministry did not appeal to Christological grounding, but rather to the presence of broadly biblical and doctrinal elements within the sermon. Reference was made to themes such as faith, household salvation, and passages such as Hebrews 11 and Acts 16 and 18. While these elements are undoubtedly true and scriptural, their presence does not resolve the concern at hand. A sermon may contain correct doctrine and yet fail to bring the hearer under the weight and urgency of the text being proclaimed. The issue is not whether biblical themes were mentioned, but whether the passage itself was allowed to exert its full force upon the congregation. In a text such as Genesis 7, where the dominant theme is the comprehensive judgment of God, the introduction of levity risks displacing that weight, regardless of the doctrinal correctness of the surrounding material. The issue is not personal but theological. The question is whether the tone of the sermon corresponds to the gravity of the text.

The Reformed tradition has consistently exercised caution in this area. Calvin warns against rhetorical embellishments that distract from the authority of Scripture and the seriousness of the message.¹² Preaching must not become a display of human ingenuity but remain a vehicle for divine truth.

When talking with a Baptist friend about the Archer Genesis 7 sermon, he raised Spurgeon as an example of someone know for humour in sermons. Spurgeon did employ vivid imagery, irony, and memorable phrasing, yet these elements functioned as rhetorical and illustrative tools rather than as humour in the modern sense of deliberate attempts to provoke laughter. In Lectures to My Students, he warned against cultivating a habit of joking in the pulpit and emphasised the dignity of the ministerial office.¹³ He also insisted that the preacher is not to perform as a public entertainer.¹⁴ His use of language confirms this principle: his sharpness of expression serves to expose sin and press truth upon the conscience, not to relieve the hearer from its weight.

The cumulative weight of these considerations leads to a sober conclusion. To claim, as Dalmen has, that God has a sense of humour is to risk creating a god in your own image. Humour, while not inherently sinful, becomes deeply problematic when it functions to relieve the gravity of biblical truth or to shift the congregation from reverent engagement to casual observation. In such cases, it interferes with the proper reception of the Word.

The pulpit exists for the proclamation of God’s Word, and that proclamation is governed by the fear of the Lord. Where this fear is diminished, the character of preaching is altered. The introduction of levity into the proclamation of divine judgment risks dulling the edge of that judgment and softening its impact upon the conscience. In a context where the Spirit is at work to convict and Christ Himself addresses His people, such levity cannot be regarded as a neutral matter.

The implications of this argument must not remain abstract. Those entrusted with the ministry of the Word stand in a position of profound responsibility. If, in preaching, the Holy Spirit works to convict and Christ Himself addresses His people, then the preacher must give careful account of every element that shapes that moment. The introduction of levity into the proclamation of divine truth is not a trivial matter of style, but one that bears upon the reverence due to God, the efficacy of the Spirit’s work, and the authority of Christ’s voice. Where humour relieves the pressure of conviction, it may subtly encourage the hearer to remain at a distance from the claims of the Word. Ministers must therefore examine not only what they say, but how they say it, ensuring that nothing in their manner of preaching diminishes the weight of the message entrusted to them. The calling to preach is a calling to speak in the presence of God and on behalf of Christ; it demands a seriousness proportionate to the eternal realities proclaimed.

Footnotes (Corrected & Renumbered)

1. Sigmund Freud, Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious, trans. James Strachey (New York: W. W. Norton, 1960), 147–153.
2. John Morreall, Comic Relief (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 9–15.
3. Westminster Confession of Faith, chs. 2–3.
4. Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 149–152.
5. Alyce M. McKenzie and Owen Hanley Lynch, Humor Us! (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2023).
6. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 149–152.
7. John Calvin, Commentary on the Psalms, on Psalm 2:4.
8. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.1.5.
9. John 16:8.
10. Calvin, Institutes, I.9.3; IV.1.5.
11. Second Helvetic Confession, ch. 1.
12. Calvin, Institutes, IV.1.5.
13. Charles H. Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students (1875), “The Minister’s Self-Watch.”
14. Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students.