Church fills void in G-rated fun at its comedy night

By the time the lights went up, the audience was spent. A couple of hours of laughter has a way of doing that.

"It was hilarious," said Alyse Phillips, a 13-year-old Encinitas resident. "There weren't any dirty jokes. They were clean, but they weren't corny. It was funny."

Jim Lyerla was still smiling. "It just kept me laughing," said the 59-year-old Encinitas man. "There was nothing negative about it."

Both were among more than 300 people who were at Daybreak Community Church in Carlsbad for its second Comedy Night, two hours of music, jokes and illusionist tricks that turned the auditorium where worship services are usually held into a G-rated club.

Comedy Night is the brainchild of Steve Verret, the church's curly haired drama director, a self-described Cajun and longtime stand-up comic whose gigs go back to such not-so-sacred venues as the Improv.

"I realized there was no place around here to get good, clean fun," said Verret, who also puts on comedy-laced traffic schools and corporate seminars on safety.

Christians aren't alone in the sentiment that cleanliness of jokes may be next to godliness.

Rabbi Bob Alper of Vermont has been touring synagogues for years, (the title of his CD says it all: "Guaranteed Funny: 101 Totally Clean Jokes"). Lately, he's been doing a lot of gigs with Muslim comic Ahmed Ahmed.

For many of these comedians, it is not only OK to crack jokes in a sanctuary, but it's part of their calling to show that laughter is sacred.

"I think God has a sense of humor," said Ken Sands, an illusionist and humorist from Long Beach who headlined the Comedy Night on July 19 at Daybreak.

The first Comedy Night at the Carlsbad church was held in May and drew several hundred people – ample evidence that they were onto something.

Life is pretty serious stuff, said Dan Grider, senior pastor of Daybreak, a nondenominational church. "People are looking for release," he added. "And they're looking for it in a safe environment."

But many who came to the Saturday night show said they're tired of the profanity, sexual antics and general raunchiness that accompanies too many of today's comedians.

Kelly Olmsted, a 37-year-old Carlsbad resident, came with her daughter and her own mother. "There's not enough things for us to do together," Olmsted said, gesturing toward her 11-year-old daughter.

"It's good, clean fun," said Olmsted's mother, 56-year-old Gini Craig. "It's just like going to a comedy club but you don't have to worry about what your children are going to hear."

When the lights went down, the church's rockish house band got things rolling, playing songs ranging from Joan Osbourne's "What If God Were One of Us" to Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again." There also was some contemporary Christian music. After all, this is a church.

For their tickets, which cost $10 at the door, the audience got the music plus routines by illusionist Sands, and Verret, who was the chief joke teller and host.

Verret brought people up on the stage for a couple rounds of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire." And he talked about being a comedian: "Look, you go into stand-up comedy because you can't afford to go into therapy."

He shared about growing up in a little town in Louisiana. "You know what the first thing is I noticed about California?" he asked, speaking in his best bayou drawl. "You all have got some small roaches out here, man. Back where I'm from, they've got roaches so big they used to turn the lights on and watch me run."

People laughed. He was on a roll. "You know what else I noticed? You all get to marry outside your families."

Of course, there was religious humor. Verret recounted his little niece saying the Lord's Prayer. "Our father, who art in heaven," she began. "How do you know my name?"

And he took them through his version of the top 10 reasons to have a comedy show in a church, rather than a nightclub.

In his magic show, Sands liberally used people from the audience to help him with his act. Now and then, he'd throw in a few words about faith.

Holding up pieces of dental floss, he talked about how God puts broken pieces back together. "It's not an illusion," he said. "It's very real."

But for the most part, the evening was about the humor, not about the holy. "We take God seriously, but we don't take ourselves seriously," is how the pastor put it.

Daybreak will try it again Aug. 23 (tickets are $10; the church is at 6515 Ambrosia Lane in Carlsbad; call 760-931-7773, Ext. 0).

"There's a big market right now for Christian humor," said Verret. "There's a hunger for people who want to go and not be offended in a club."