As a 37-year-old standup comedian and Christian motivational speaker, I've come to learn that timing is everything. I'm not just talking about stage life here, brothers and sisters, I'm talking about the stage OF
I used to blame myself for every little misstep: found out about my dream job the day after it was filled? MY
fault. Missed the bus? Darn you, Steve. Son from my first marriage gets daughter from my second marriage pregnant while I had them for the weekend? I guess I should beat myself
Then everything changed. One night, I was performing at this party. The set was going great. Not laughs exactly, but the sort of soft eye contact that says "keep telling it, brother. Your observations about life as a saved Christian make my soul shine." I had just killed with the bit about the Korean Pentecostal who everyone thinks is speaking in tongues when he' actually speaking Korean, then all of the sudden the mood changed. I mean, Satan entered the room in a palpable way-and he made that microphone hot in a jiffy.
When I got home, I went to the videotape of my performance and pinpointed the start of the heckling, booing and chair-throwing to one specific joke about my friend Mike. Now this is a joke that kills on most nights. It was the one about St. Peter turning a guy in the room (in this case, Mike) away from heaven because of what he did on the 11th green all those years ago.