He's clean and a scream

OK, here goes: Three guys (a priest, a minister and a rabbi) walk into a comedy club.

And then? Well, they walk right out, covering their ears.

Hark! I bring you tidings of great hilarity, though its source may be mysterious unto thee. Behold the Christian comic, who shalt not cuss, nor speak of topics unholy, nor take the Lord's name in vain. Come unto him, and he shall give you jest.

And ye shall say: Ha-hallelujah.

Impossible, you say, but do not forget: To everything, there is a season. A time to laugh, a time to cry, and a time to juggle while riding a unicycle.

Thanksgiving weekend: Kids sip soda through straws while clusters of gray-haired seniors murmur in the dim light of Giggles, a Seattle comedy club. Roars of recognition pierce the dark as old friends and family drop in for Bellevue native Ron Pearson's first local gig in years. The club purposely promotes family-friendly shows as part of its repertoire — "They put the G in Giggles," one attendee says — and Pearson, a wholesome Los Angeles resident in his late 30s, knows how to walk that straight line.

That doesn't mean that when it comes to comedy, he shalt not totally kill: This year, the Bellevue High grad, who plays major comedy clubs in Los Angeles and performed for U.S. troops in Afghanistan last summer, was one of five nominees for American Entertainment magazine's Comedian of the Year. The onetime 10-year-old street performer at Pike Place Market has been a cast member of TV's "Malcolm & Eddie" and has done guest spots on "The George Lopez Show" and "That '70s Show."

Oh, and he's a practicing evangelical Christian who attends a nondenominational church. His wife, Tanya Turner, is at tonight's show along with their daughter, Reagan, and son Tex.

Ask, and ye shall receive

Across the land, Christians looking to live their faith have long complained about the decline in decent entertainment for themselves or their kids — whether it's comedy clubs, TV airwaves or Hollywood film. "The divide is further than it's ever been," Pearson says. "So I decided, why not market to what my strength is?"

That doesn't necessarily mean spouting scripture or telling Jesus jokes. It does mean using material in line with his faith and doing it without dipping into the easy "I've got attitude" candy jar of the F-word.

Tonight, he tackles topics like reality TV, odd Olympic sport, his wife's Texas accent, the Spanish-language network Telemundo and Donald Trump's hair.

"How can you look at his hair and not have the urge to eat cotton candy?"

He snatches a tiny purse from a young girl sitting in the front row and raises it in the spotlight. "Did you put this in the dryer?" he asks.

His routine is all clean, free of the seven words you can't say on TV or anything you can't say in church. The raciest he gets is when he feigns anger with an audience volunteer for sub-par stage performance: "What the hell?" he says.

He drops a few local references ("I'd like to welcome the people from Bothell," he says, picking on one attendee), packs Sequim and Enumclaw into the same sentence and compares one juggling maneuver to salmon swimming upstream. Finally, he juggles on a unicycle.

Religious references, however, are few, save for a bit involving "begats" and the line, "If you can say more than three names in the Old Testament, you oughta be preachin' on Sunday." Toward the end, he notes his appearance that day on Burien-based Christian radio station KGNW-AM (820) and his just-released DVD, part of the "Bananas" TV comedy series ("Appeeling Comedy for the Whole Family").

"God bless you guys," he says in closing.

He does secular, too

Although Pearson does shows for overtly Christian audiences — several thousand youth pastors in Cincinnati, for example — he says it's mainstream comedy clubs that help elevate his craft.

As a headliner, he has the pull to request clean opening acts. Otherwise, he doesn't bring up his Christian background at all, walking fearlessly through the valley of mainstream comedy. That puts him on the same bill as comics, who, as he puts it, "use the F-word as a pronoun, an adverb and a conjunction all in one sentence."

Is it not written that the wolf shall dwell with the lamb?

"Ron is the best crowd-pleaser I've ever seen," says Giggles owner Terry Taylor, whose club provides mostly family-friendly entertainment as an alternative to venues featuring raunchier fare.

"There's several comedians in the area who don't come because they choose not to be clean," he says. "They just can't adjust to it for whatever reason... . The thing I don't understand is why they don't want to practice being clean, when you have to be clean to be on TV and do corporate shows."

Comics congregate

For many Christian comics, it's been a lonely walk in the desert. But they've started congregating in recent years, seeking others who know the craft's ups and downs, the perils of the road.

"Stand-up comedy, the art of it, is isolating," says Chonda Pierce, Nashville-based president of the 5-year-old Christian Comedy Association, whose annual meetings draw 300 attendees. "You stand up alone. You travel a lot alone. How do we protect ourselves? How do we be good Christians?"

Some markets are rough for Christian comics. But those who do it right, Pierce says in her Tennessee drawl, can raise eyebrows. "People go, 'Well, gol-darn, that was good — and they didn't cuss.' "

That makes Christian comics marketable in other ways, such as at corporate events, where the idea is not to offend. And witness Clean Comedians of La Mirada, Calif., a booking agency that since 1990 has provided smut-free entertainment while preaching that "it doesn't have to be filthy to be funny."

Well, gas is always funny

"We have some Christian comedians who are just off the hook," says Gracee McDonald of Crenshaw Christian Center in L.A., where Pearson recently performed. "They're crazy."

These comics aren't just dishing out punch-line versions of Bible study. Routines might include scriptural nods but are more about credible experiences — passing gas in church or the challenge of abstaining from premarital sex. One comic, McDonald recalls, built a funny bit around congregants' general inability to say the word "tithes."

"Comedy has gotten so foul," she says. "People find it more amusing and appealing to have a Christian comedian. They use real-life stories. That's what's always funny."

Meanwhile, the success of Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ," TV's "7th Heaven" and other high-profile, Christian-friendly media ventures hasn't gone unnoticed by film and TV executives. Twentieth Century Fox has launched Fox Faith, a division focused on Christian video projects, while "Thou Shalt Laugh," a stand-up show featuring high-profile Christian comics and hosted by actress Patricia Heaton, has just been released on DVD.

The 168 Hour Film Project, a California-based global competition, gives filmmakers one week, or 168 hours, to write, cast and shoot a short film based on a Bible verse. Last year, Pearson and co-producer Jay Davis won best comedy for their film, "Curb Your Evangelism."

"There's an army of Christians starting to grow," Pearson says. At the same time, he knows people don't go to comedy clubs to be preached to. "That's not really my job there," he says. "But my job isn't to be dirty. My job is to be uplifting. Funny is funny."

Marc Ramirez: 206-464-8102 or mramirez@seattletimes.com