My brother and I have had issues with giggling for a long time. We have a mutual twisted sense of humor and if one of us goes off the rails on something, you might as well forget either of us keeping our composure.

It was especially bad when we were younger.  My brother and I are opposites in so many ways, but share commonalities that are interesting.  We’ve also always been able to “pick back up” no matter how long we’ve been apart.

One of the worst places for us to be together, again, especially when we were younger, was church.  Some of the dumbest occurrences could send us into pew-shaking convulsions of laughter. It’s a wonder we made it out alive.  

Stifling laughter is very, very difficult. Not being able to bust out laughing and trying to appear normal is hard work and not good for the heart, lungs and brain.  Or so it seems when you feel as if you’ll stop breathing and pass away.

We were sitting in church one Sunday morning, and one of the deacons came in and sat down behind us.  The sermon had already started. We were both sitting in a position where we could see this deacon in our peripheral vision. As we tried to sit there and be good little boys, this old guy suddenly reached into his Robert Hall suit coat and pulled out a gigantic Snickers bar, unwrapped it noisily, and proceeded to eat it, smacking his lips with great abandon.  

At first we were stunned beyond belief: people just didn’t eat snacks during church service. I guess we were somewhat in awe.  In the end, it resulted in the usual stifled, shaking laughter that makes your eyes water.

I often think of that time when I see folks in church sipping coffee and eating cookies. Times have changed.

My mother was not too much of a stickler for church behavior, finding most of the same things humorous, yet mature enough to not let it impact her the way it did us. Still, we would once in a while get a thump on the head or a side poke to straighten up.

There were mothers in the church who could give death stares from the choir loft or from a pew up front if we were sitting with friends near the back. One look from another mother could straighten the whole lot of us out.

Every now and then there would be a good trip by an usher or some type of snafu with the music or sound system. At least a couple of times, and for no apparent reason, the local radio station would come over the sound system with a moment of feedback. At one point, I think it was a beer commercial, and luckily the pastor had the presence of mind to make a joke, which freed my brother and I up to cackle with the rest of the congregation.  

Perhaps the worst moment in church giggling history came when there was, of all things, a baptism.  

We had an old-school Baptist church where the stairs into the baptistry were on the second floor. When one was being baptized, you entered through a door upstairs and walked down into the water using the metal stairs. The preacher wore waders under his billowing robe.  When the person who was baptized came up out of the water, the robe stuck to them and it was a good idea to wear appropriate garments underneath.  

If anyone in the congregation tells you they don’t notice those types of things, they are lying.

But the funniest part of this particular baptism was the pastor himself. At the time we had a funny, somewhat goofy pastor who was roly-poly and prone to accidents. I’d seen him trip a few times, lock his keys in his car numerous times, and generally have a lot of “Aw, shoot” moments.  

For some reason, my brother was sitting at one end of the pew and I was sitting at the other. There were people in between us – maybe mom was in there somewhere. But all I remember is thinking that it would be terrible if the pastor suddenly pitched forward and started bobbing in the water as water came over the front of the baptistry, soaking the unassuming choir below. Apparently, my like-minded brother had the same thought and leaned up, making gestures and mouthing words that communicated the exact same scenario.

You guessed it – it was all over. The solemn, celebratory moment that a baptism is supposed to command was made into another Tullis brothers special.  Here we go again.

It’s a wonder we ever got a thing out of church, the way we behaved.