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The Independence Podcast helps everyday people discover that true freedom isn’t found in self-reliance but in total dependence on Jesus Christ. Each episode blends honest conversation, biblical truth, and practical application to help listeners move beyond emotional devotion toward consistent, daily surrender. Whether you’re new in your faith or longing to grow deeper, you’ll find encouragement to trust God fully, live from His grace, and follow Christ with courage in a world that celebrates independence but neglects dependence on the One who truly sets us free.
Bryan Dunham (00:00.92)
Hello, my friends, and welcome to the Independence Podcast, where we talk about living independence daily on God. I am your host, Brian Dunham, and this week we will be continuing in the release of the chapters of my audiobook as I have recorded them. And the book is Questions God Asks. And this week will be chapter three, which is entitled Laughing Out Loud.
The book is available anywhere that you can purchase a book. You can also download chapter one for free on my website. But over time I will be releasing each chapter periodically here on the podcast. So I hope you enjoy this week chapter three of Questions God asks. Grace and peace, my friends.
Bryan Dunham (00:58.702)
Chapter three Laughing Out Loud Is Anything Too Hard for the Lord? Genesis eighteen fourteen. Has there ever been a movie that you have seen so often you can quote nearly every line verbatim? That movie for me is Top Gun. I first saw it in the theater when I was twelve in the summer of nineteen eighty six. Tom Cruise played the lead character, Pete Maverick Mitchell. Maverick lives up to his call sign. He's bold and
boundary pushing pilot whose raw talent is matched only by his disregard for protocol. He thrives on adrenaline, takes risks that others won't, and often bends the rules to achieve results. His flying is exceptional, but his behavior is unpredictable. We find out that Maverick isn't just chasing speed. He's chasing his father's shadow, desperate to prove himself. His desire to be great is entangled with a longing for identity, legacy, approval,
And his struggle to separate his own worth from his father's story. This was a story I identified with. But aside from my emotional connection to Maverick, I love the flying scenes. The intense dogfighting, the idea of pushing the edge of the envelope and the F 14 Tomcat, these thrilled me. Even today, after literally hundreds of times, I do not tire of watching that movie. However, my fascination with flying in airplanes didn't begin with Top Gun.
My father traveled a lot for work and we would take him to the airport frequently. This was back when anyone could accompany a traveler all the way to the gate. Actually, you didn't even have to accompany anyone. Whoever wanted to could park, go inside, and go all the way to the gate. You needed a ticket to get on the plane, but the rest of the airport was fair game for anybody. I used to ask my mom to take me to the airport so I could sit and watch the airliners take off and land.
I loved the sounds of their engines as they roared and the odor of the jet exhaust. I was fascinated that something as big and heavy as a fully loaded 737 could actually fly in the air. A year before Top Gun hit theaters, I first discovered a different kind of pilot. A year before Top Gun hit theaters, I first discovered a different kind of pilot hero, Chuck Yeager. Over Christmas break in 1985, I devoured his autobiography.
Bryan Dunham (03:21.482)
Jaeger. What struck me wasn't just his combat record, but when what struck me wasn't just his combat record, but when he accomplished something everyone said couldn't be done. On October 14th, 1947, Jaeger piloted his plane, the glamorous Glennis, past the sound barrier, a feat not previously believed to be possible. Before Jaeger's flight, the term sound barrier was not just a metaphor, it was a widely regarded, it was why
Before Jaeger's flight, the term sound barrier was not just a metaphor.
Before Jaeger's flight, the term sound barrier was not just a metaphor, it was a widely regarded real physical. Before Jaeger's flight, the term sound barrier was not just a metaphor. It was widely regarded as a real physical limit. It was believed that to attempt to fly an aircraft faster than the speed of sound would be an effort that no aircraft or human could survive. Lord Chirwell
Who was a UK scientist and advisor to Churchill said in the early 1940s, supersonic flight is a myth, and it violates fundamental laws of aerodynamics. Sir Richard Glazebrook, president of the Royal Aeronautical Society, stated in the 1930s: it is impossible for man to travel faster than sound. Breaking the sound barrier stands as a quintessential example of something considered not just dangerous.
But inherently impossible until it wasn't. Transatlantic flight, running a four-minute mile, climbing Mount Everest, walking on the moon, history shows that many quote unquote impossible feats that were first met with laughter, ridicule, or disbelief were eventually proven possible. First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win. Author unknown. The pattern is familiar.
Bryan Dunham (05:22.904)
People laugh at what they believe to be impossible. They scoff at the suggestion that something could defy nature, reason, or experience. Sometimes the laughter comes from scientists and engineers, sometimes from skeptics and critics, but sometimes it comes from people like you and me when hope feels too far gone and we've quietly settled into disbelief.
Long before anyone broke the sound barrier or crested Mount Everest, a woman named Sarah laughed at something even more unthinkable, the idea that she would bear a child at ninety. After a lifetime of disappointments, laughter wasn't joy, it was resignation. And yet, as we'll see, the God who created natural limitations has never been bound by them. When we first meet Sarah in the Bible, she's called Sarai, the wife of Abram.
This is Genesis eleven twenty nine, and Abram and Nahor took wives. The name of Abram's wife was Sarai, and the name of Nahor's wife Milka, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milea and Iska.
In a book that at times seems to be obsessed with detailed genealogies, we have one of the most significant characters in the overall biblical narrative that is introduced without one. Sarai is the wife of Abram, you know, the one who would one day be called Abraham, the founding patriarch of the Jewish people, the one that would bless the entire earth by his descendant. And when we are told at least a little about, and while we are told at least a little about Milch's paternity.
Saris is comp and while we are told at least a little about Milka's paternity, Saris is conspicuously absent. Why is that? The first words scripture uses to describe her come one verse later. Now Sarai was barren, she had no child. Genesis eleven thirty. No story, no background, just barren. The word for barren is the Hebrew word hakar.
Bryan Dunham (07:27.49)
Which means sterile. Not that she just didn't have children, she was unable to bear them. Before we learn anything else about her, her beauty, her character, her journey, we are told what she lacks. That single sentence carries the weight of years. In a culture where a woman's value is often tied to childbearing, Sarai's childlessness wasn't just personal grief, it was public shame. Month after month,
Year after year the ache of waiting gave way to the ache of wondering. She followed Abram as he followed God, who promised land, descendants, and blessing, but for Sarai the years only brought more dust, more tents, and no child. It's not hard to imagine how hope turned brittle. Then in Genesis seventeen, something unexpected happens. God changes their names. When Abram was ninety nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him,
I am God Almighty, walk before me and be blameless, that I may make my covenant between me and you, and may multiply you greatly. Then Abram fell on his face, and God said to him, Behold, my covenant is with you, and you shall be a father of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be called Abraham, for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations. That's Genesis seventeen, one through five. And then we read.
And God said to Abraham, As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall become nations. Kings of people will come from her. Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said to himself, So shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?
That's Genesis 17, 15 through 17. Abram becomes Abraham, which means father of a multitude, and Sarai, meaning my princess, becomes Sarah, which means princess of nations. Names fit for a patriarch and matriarch. This leaves Abraham literally rolling on the floor laughing. Sarah is 90. Abraham is ninety-nine. The idea of new beginnings must have felt absurd.
Bryan Dunham (09:49.696)
Sometime later in Genesis eighteen, the Lord visits again. The Lord said, I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah, your wife, shall have a son. And Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years, the way of women had ceased to be with Sarah. That's Genesis eighteen, ten through eleven.
God reiterates the promise that brought laughter from Abraham earlier, and now Sarah overhears the same message. Part of the parenthetical interlude here tells us that they were, quote, old, advanced in years. The text isn't satisfied telling us that they are zaken, which is translated as old and literally means ancient, but doubles down on that by saying they are Ba'im Bayamim, which means have dead.
Have come, which means have come along in days. As if that's not enough, the Bible then further clarifies by telling us, quote, the way of women had ceased to be with Sarah, end quote. That is very polite English. The literal translation is Sarah was a well-trodden road. So when God declares that she will bear a son within the year, Sarah does what many of us would do. So Sarah laughed.
To herself, saying, After I am worn out and my Lord is old, shall I have pleasure? That's Genesis 18, twelve. This isn't the laughter of joyful surprise. It's the laugh of a lifetime of disappointment, a sound that leaks out when the heart no longer knows how to hope. But God hears that kind of laughter, and he answers it with a question: Is anything too hard for the Lord? It's Genesis 18:14.
One year later, that laugh of disbelief turned into a different kind of laughter altogether. The Lord visited Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did to Sarah as he had promised, and Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. That's Genesis 21, 1 through 2. Her son's name was Isaac, which means he laughs. The very sound that once echoed with doubt now echoed with joy.
Bryan Dunham (12:08.93)
God took Sarah's skeptical chuckle and transformed it into a song of celebration. Her weary, aged body had not disqualified her. Her years of disappointment had not dissuaded him. The timing may have seemed absurd to her, but it was right on schedule for God. When I was five years old, and we would return from church on Sunday about noon, my personal Sunday service was just beginning.
Having gotten a good warm-up at the Baptist church up the street from our home, I came home and held my own service. My father had made a wooden chair for me when I was younger that had a seat about the height of a high chair that you would put a baby in to sit at the dinner table. Since I had grown substantially by five, it was the perfect height to serve as my pulpit. I took a couple of my football participation ribbons and draped them over the front of the chair, stood behind it with my open Bible, and began to preach to my Sunday faithful. My congregation consisted of my mother.
That's it. She was a regular, but I wouldn't say she was there every Sunday, and definitely not a tither. Nonetheless, even at that age, I felt a strange connection to the Bible and to the idea of teaching it. At nine years old, I walked down the aisle to quote become a Christian, end quote. I used quotes there because my motivation was most definitely not to become a Christian. A week prior to me walking down the aisle, another long and dry sermon had just wound down.
I was sitting in the pew next to my brother Chuck. When we stood to sing Just As I Am for the invitation, my mind was well ahead, daydreaming about what I would eat for lunch and about playing football in the front yard afterward. Suddenly, Chuck slipped out into the aisle and began walking forward. What in the world was he doing? I had never been paying attention enough during this part of the service to even know what this part of the service was for. I looked up at my mom, who was wearing an ear to ear smile that I had never seen before on her face.
Turns out Chuck accepted Jesus into his heart that day. I had no clue what that meant, but what I did understand is what happened when we got home. My mom told my dad, who only went to church with the family on Easter and Christmas, he was so excited that he told Chuck he would buy him anything he wanted. Say what? My father was notoriously cheap. For example, one day when I was older, he visited a car dealership for an entire week haggling with the salesman over a few dollars.
Bryan Dunham (14:33.142)
Eventually he won out. I recall the salesman calling the house to tell him they agreed to his price. They had to call the house because my dad had walked out in dramatic fashion during negotiations for the third day in a row. You would have thought he was brokering Middle East Peace. I answered the phone when the salesman called. Before handing the phone to my dad, the salesman said, Hey kid, you know what? Your dad is so tight he squeaks when he walks. Later, I told my dad that, and he beamed with pride.
Now King Scrooge was suddenly willing to give a blank check to my brother? Chuck quickly piped up that there was something he really wanted and had his eye on a watch. You read that correctly. Again, this was the enigma that was my brother. He must have been the only ten and a half year old kid on the planet that when he could get whatever he wanted, responded with a watch. Whatever, I didn't have time to worry about him. I had to figure out how I could get on some of the things.
Whatever, I didn't have time to worry about him. I had to figure out how I could get in on some of this action. The following Sunday, I saw the light and walked down the aisle myself. Everyone was so happy I had put Jesus in my heart, but what I really wanted was to put a video game in my hand. I'd wanted Space Invaders for R Atari twenty six hundred since last Christmas when I didn't get it. As soon as all of the fanfare was over at the church, we went home to tell my dad of my decision for Christ. Instead of excitement, he looked at me with a twinkling skepticism in his eye.
Is that so? he asked. Yes, sir, I said. And since you took Chuck to get whatever he wanted, I'd like to go get Space Invaders. My eagerness surely had revealed my deception to my father, a former cop. Suddenly I felt dirty all over, and my cheeks flushed. Something inside me pushed to recant and beg for forgiveness, but I knew my father well by this point. Better to hold the line, come what may, than reverse course and reveal myself to be the imposter I was.
One thing I knew my father respected was that once you decided to do something, you did it the whole way, no backing out. He knew what I was up to, I was sure of it, yet said nothing and didn't challenge me. He directed my mom to take me to the store and buy me the video game. He didn't come. After getting the game, I rarely played it. I think the way I obtained it ruined my enjoyment I could have gotten from it. However, at seventeen years old, under the guidance of my youth pastor Greg, I came into a real, actual relationship with Jesus.
Bryan Dunham (16:53.218)
I didn't tell anyone though, because everyone already thought I was a Christian, and in my mind it would have disappointed a lot of people. If not evidenced by my story, I never really understood what Christianity was growing up. It seemed like a pretty boring hobby to me, and I could think of much better ways to spend a Sunday morning. Yet somehow I saw something in Greg that was different. I could see how he lived out his faith, how it impacted his decisions, and how loving, patient, and kind he was. It made me want what he had.
I prayed prayer that sounded something like, God, I believe that you're real. I believe you can change people. I see how you lead, Greg, and I want that too. I believe Jesus lived and died for me in all my messiness so I could become more like you. Help me to believe more fully. Please come into my life. Amen. I can't explain it even today, but something was born in me that day. A force seemed to come alive inside, something that was outside of me, yet within, a voice that was not me, but was part of me now.
About eight months later, during a presentation that some missionaries were giving at a Sunday evening church service, I felt the voice call to me. About eight months later, during a presentation that some missionaries were giving at a Sunday evening church service, I felt that voice call to me. As the missionaries asked for volunteers to serve in Korea with them over the summer, I knew it was something I had to do. The three month experience was unlike any other I'd had until then or since.
I felt that voice grow stronger, more personal, more intimate. I felt that voice inside grow stronger, more personal, more intimate during that time in Korea. As my faith deepened, my enjoyment of the work we did grew each day. Even though we were busy seven days a week and were exhausted at the end of most days, it was fulfilling. When I returned from that trip, I felt that voice inside clearly directing me towards full-time vocational ministry.
I wasn't sure the context that it was supposed to be, but I was sure of two things. One, I was being called, and two, I desperately did not want to give my life to ministry. The next thirty-two years of my life were a struggle. There were times I ran from that voice and did my best to bury it under a pile of alcohol, promiscuity, and materialism. There were other times I moved towards that voice, engaging in church, leading small groups, and teaching occasionally.
Bryan Dunham (19:13.398)
Each time I moved toward it, the voice only got stronger, and I would experience feelings of guilt, knowing I wasn't doing what God wanted me to do with my life. Yet my own will prevailed. My life, up until only a few years ago, was a wild ride. I've been a cop and put people in jail, and I've been to jail myself. I have been a millionaire, and I have had a time where I only had a dollar left to my name. I've had a job that paid me over $600,000 per year, and I've been unemployed. I've had it all.
Subsequently lost it all. I eventually reached a point where my list of regrets was longer than my list of accomplishments. I have lived a life dedicated to myself, and at forty-eight I looked back on the swath of damage left in my wake and wondered what it could have been. But now it seemed too late. The best of my life was behind me, so it seemed. It was then that I began to hear that voice again. Not that it had ever left me, it hadn't. It was just that I was listening again.
Willing to give it my full attention once more. Even though I felt like my useful days were past, the voice said, Give me all of what you have left. It's not over. I can still use you. It's time to live again. In effect, it said, Is anything too hard for the Lord? You were holding part of that answer to that question in your hands. Sarah's story reminds us that when God makes a promise, he is not limited by biology, statistics, or human opinion.
He is not restrained by clocks or calendars. He fulfills his word when he chooses to act, not when we've finally worked up enough faith. Some of us are still waiting for something to be born a dream, a calling, a relationship, a breakthrough. We may feel like it's too late, too broken, too far gone. We smile politely when people say God is faithful, but deep down we've stopped expecting him to show up. Maybe we wouldn't say it out loud, but like Sarah,
We've laughed to ourselves. We've stopped praying the bold prayers. We've made peace with the silence. But the question still stands, is anything too hard for the Lord? What seems impossible to us is not difficult for God. What has felt like a delay may be divine preparation, and even when our faith grows tired, he remains faithful. Just like he did for Sarah, God can take our skeptical laughter and turn it into Isaac, into joy.
Bryan Dunham (21:39.712)
into proof that nothing is too hard for him. I still remember sitting at the airport terminal as a kid, watching those jets roar down the runway and lift into the sky. I never stopped being amazed that something so heavy could fly. But now I realize it wasn't just the aircraft I was fascinated by. It was the idea that something seemingly impossible could actually happen right in front of me. That's the God we follow. He doesn't just operate in the realm of what's reasonable
He works in the quiet places where hope has worn thin and faith has grown tired. Sarah's very story reminds us that even when we've given up, God hasn't. He's not threatened by our laughter, nor silenced by our doubts. He enters our barrenness, our waiting, our longing, our weariness, and asks us the same question he asked her is anything too hard for the Lord?
Maybe your answer today is honest. Yes, feels that way. If that's where you are, you're not alone. Sarah was there too. So was Abraham. So were generations of believers who waited, doubted, and wrestled to believe again. I've been there. But here's what they discovered and what we can too. When God speaks, even laughter can become a prophecy. And what once made us laugh in disbelief may one day.
Make us laugh and wonder, is anything too hard for the Lord?