Growing up in rural Alabama, I learned early on to listen to preachers with discernment. Mainly, I would hear some of them wax eloquent (or as the kid said, ‘wax an elephant’) on major sins of our time. Among the mortal sins capable of sending one to hell was card playing.

That’s when I wanted to stand up and say, “Oh, come on! Card playing? Give me a break.”

We played Old Maid. And Go Fish. And in my teen years, rummy.

Rummy became our family game. Not ‘gin rummy.’ Just ‘rummy.’ With our own rules, I suppose. Deuces wild. No betting of course. Nothing, absolutely nothing, going on at this dining room table except great fellowship between family members. For a large family–mom and dad and six children–made up of people who could not in a hundred years manage to utter those syllables ‘I love you,’ the fellowship and camaraderie of playing rummy accomplished the same thing. We loved each other dearly.

Dad put us up to it. In our young childhood, Pinochle was his game, and he and his buddies would sometimes play it all night long in our living room. If they gambled, I couldn’t tell it.

But somewhere along the way, he taught the older children how to play rummy. Once he found out we could play as well as he could–almost–the war was on. This was not the old man humoring the little children by condescending to play with them; we were a match for him in every way.

I told you this family is populated by characters and only characters. The nature of the foursome would change every time someone swapped seats with a sibling. Ronnie is quiet and intense; Glenn is funny and laughs loud. Patricia is intense, Carolyn funny, and Charlie–well, Charlie was all of the above. “I couldn’t rummy with a rummy machine!” I recall him saying, and have smiled at that ever since. Me, I don’t care who wins. I love the fellowship of the give and take, the foolishness, the competition, between these whom I love with all my heart.

Oh, for the record, Mom did not play. Not once. She hovered nearby, however, making sure everyone had popcorn or ice cream or a glass of iced tea.

My sons grew up playing rummy and have taught their children the game. The 10-year-old twins can hold their own with anyone in the family.

So, why do preachers no longer call card-playing sinful? If I had to guess, it’s because they finally looked around and discovered that sinfulness is a matter of the human heart, of rebellion against God, of selfishly using, abusing, and misusing another human being, of neglecting the things of God. But to play a harmless child’s game with those you love, nope. Not in a hundred years is that a sin. In fact, it blesses us so much, it ought to be taught in Sunday school!!

Not long ago I ran across a sermon from a friend which he preached a quarter century ago, in which he was declaring dancing to be of the devil. That’s another one that usually got lumped in with card-playing in those days.

Now, I doubt not that playing cards while gambling or any kind of lewd dancing is wrong and leads the participants into all kinds of trouble. So, this is not to deny that. Anything that leads people into sin is a form of sin.

Stay with me here a moment.

In his sermon, my friend said one way we know that dancing is wrong is that you cannot have a prayer before the start of one. That’s where I begged to differ.

My wife and I took a year of lessons in ballroom dancing at Fred Astaire in Charlotte some two decades ago. We’ve not danced in years for a lot of reasons, and even back then, I only danced with her. But it was so pleasant and harmless, so fun and endearing, I found myself peeved at the preachers who would have sent us hellward for such movements of the feet and touchings of the hands. What were they thinking?

So, whether you are a child or an adult or in-between, it’s always a good idea to listen to preachers–including this one–with discernment. Ask the Father to give you a mind to think clearly about the issues he raises.

Paul preached to the Bereans, and we read that they were “more noble-minded than the Thessalonians, for they received the word with great eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see whether these things were so.” (Acts 17:11) Always a great idea: check the Word.

Before leaving the subject, I have to tell you what happened at my Dad’s funeral. Two things actually.

We had been joking and wondering half-seriously whether up in Heaven Pop and our brother Charlie have a game of rummy going yet.

Neil went out and bought a deck of cards and got the grandchildren to sign the outside of the pack, then before the casket was sealed, slipped it into Pop’s pocket.

What we call an inside joke, I suppose. Nothing was said about this publicly; he just did it.

In the funeral service, however, my nephew Steve told of something his cousin Patrick did. He bought 13 decks of cards and took out the four deuces from each, then put one ace with it–deuces are worth only two points unless you have a high card with them–and planned to put this doctored-up deck into the casket. Steve pointed out that this might seem a little offensive to some of you here, but this harmless little game has been like glue bonding our family together throughout some difficult times. A number of people smiled and Steve went on to other subjects.

The casket was rolled out of the church and loaded in the hearse for the trip across the country lane for the final burial. Outside the church, Patrick showed me the deck. I said, “The casket is sealed, Pat. You can’t get it in now.” He looked disappointed, so I said, “The only thing left is to drop the deck into the open grave.”

Not the same thing, to be sure. But probably just as effective, since no one of us thought of this as more than just a humorous expression of our love for Pop and something he had taught us. In other words, them cards stay here, friend; in the casket or in the open grave, they ain’t goin’ nowhere!

But Pop did. “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” The Bible says that in II Corinthians 5. “Where I am, there you may be also.” That’s John 14. “So shall we ever be with the Lord.” I Thessalonians 4:17.

My wonderful pastor of the 1960s, William G. Burkett, used to say you’ll get three surprises when you get to Heaven. You’ll be surprised at who’s there you did not expect to see. You’ll be surprised at who’s NOT there you expected to find. And the biggest surprise of all will be to find yourself there.

I expect He’s right. Because if we got what we deserved, none of us would make it.

Thank God for His grace.