My humor had changed from foolishness to making sense.

When Bernie Mac declared, “My humor had changed from foolishness to making sense,” he was not merely speaking of comedy—he was speaking of growth, of wisdom, and of the transformation of the soul through experience. These words are not the boast of a man who mastered laughter, but the reflection of one who learned that true humor is born not from noise, but from truth. His journey mirrors the path of every seeker who begins in chaos and emerges in clarity, who learns that joy and laughter, when guided by purpose, can become instruments of light.

In the beginning, Bernie Mac’s foolishness was the wild energy of youth—untamed, irreverent, driven by the desire to be seen. Like many artists, he began with the spark of instinct before understanding the fire’s direction. Foolishness, in its raw form, is not evil; it is the seed of creation before wisdom shapes it. But as the man endured hardship—poverty, rejection, struggle—his comedy deepened. It began to “make sense,” not because it grew serious, but because it grew true. It reflected not the shallow laughter of escape, but the profound laughter of recognition—the kind that heals wounds because it names them.

The ancients, too, knew of this transformation. The philosopher Diogenes, who lived in a barrel and mocked the pretenses of society, was first dismissed as a mad fool. Yet his mockery carried meaning. His wit stripped the falsehoods from the proud, revealing the simple truth that freedom begins when one stops pretending. What began as foolishness became philosophy. Like Bernie Mac, Diogenes discovered that humor could be a sword of wisdom—a way to reveal the soul of things without the weight of solemnity. Both men spoke in jest, yet taught in truth.

In the modern age, Bernie Mac’s comedy spoke of real life—of families, struggle, fear, and love. He spoke the language of the working man and the weary heart. His jokes were no longer aimed only at laughter, but at understanding. When he said his humor had changed, he meant that it had matured, that it now carried the burden of message. His words were laughter sharpened into insight. This evolution reflects the moment when every artist, every human being, moves from performance to purpose—from living for applause to living for meaning.

Consider, too, the story of Mark Twain, that great humorist of America’s past. In his youth, Twain mocked and jested with carefree delight. But as he aged and saw the cruelty of men and the hypocrisy of power, his humor darkened—not in despair, but in depth. Through irony and laughter, he unveiled injustice, folly, and greed. His humor, like Bernie’s, had “changed from foolishness to making sense.” It became a vessel of conscience, a flame that illuminated truth without blinding the listener.

So it is with all who walk the path from youth to wisdom. There is a time to jest wildly, and a time to jest wisely. The laughter of the young may dazzle, but the laughter of the wise transforms. The foolish may entertain for a night, but the truthful bring understanding that endures. When humor “makes sense,” it ceases to be mere noise—it becomes a bridge between hearts, a mirror for the soul, a healing for the weary.

The lesson, then, is this: grow your laughter as you grow your life. Let your humor be rooted in understanding, not mockery. Speak not to wound, but to awaken. Find joy not in the clumsy stumble of others, but in the shared recognition of our human struggle. To laugh meaningfully is to live compassionately, for humor that “makes sense” is humor that lifts, unites, and teaches.

And so, children of time, when you speak, let your words carry both wit and wisdom. Let your laughter shine, not as the light of arrogance, but as the dawn of insight. Foolishness is the beginning of all journeys, but understanding is their crown. As Bernie Mac discovered, when your humor begins to make sense, it means you have begun to see the world not merely as it is—but as it might yet become.