Let’s call a spade a spade: sarcasm often gives us license to be lightheartedly hateful. Only I can look inside my heart and determine when I’m honoring God with my sense of humor and when I’m grieving his name. When my sarcasm condemns, judges, shames, or isolates God’s image-bearers, I sin against God’s cherished craftsmanship.

A friend recently introduced me as her “sarcastic friend.” She said it was my sarcasm that convinced her we’d hit it off. Isn’t that how Jesus said we would be known? You know, by our sarcasm?

Over the course of a few email exchanges we pegged each other’s sense of humor. By the first time we met face to face, she felt like a sister. She says sarcasm is her “sixth love language.” For years it’s been mine too. From my Texas heart to her Northern one, our two different breeds of sarcasm complemented one another. In silliness, smirks, and jesting, we fluently communicated our love for the gospel, our families, and a plethora of other randomness.

Sarcasm has always come naturally to me. It is often the way I communicate love to those I feel the most comfortable around. The better I know you, the more I enjoy joking around. Innocent quips are my kind of hug.

If my sarcasm always felt like a loving and innocent hug, there’d be no reason to question my heart’s motives. But when my humor feels more like a slap in the face, when people don’t “get” my sarcasm, and my jokes leave behind a wake of wounded brothers and sisters, I’m forced to dig a little deeper and face the facts.

Sarcasm Isn’t Innocent

It’s insincere. When a friend says something hurtful to me, I might say, “Man! What a jerk!” The semi-joking tone suggests I’m only kidding. Really, I mean it with all my heart. By making jokes I pretend I’m not hurt. I jab back and hope my sharp humor sends the message loud and clear: “I’m hurt. Back off.” When in pain, I slip on sarcasm as a mask.

It’s lazy. It’s certainly easier and less socially awkward to hide behind humor when I feel threatened or embarrassed. But dealing in sarcasm is at best a temporary fix and at worst a catalyst for deeper and more substantial relational strain. Primarily or, worse, exclusively confronting troubles in sarcasm is a passive-aggressive way to address my own sins and the sins of others.

It’s dangerous. Regularly wielding sarcasm as a shield or a weapon—whether intentionally or unintentionally—can be problematic and dangerous. When I’m well-versed in witty banter yet lacking in words of edification and love, my sarcastic personality is no longer humorous; it’s just hurtful.

Read More