John 3:1-17
In the gospel of John so far,
we’ve heard cosmic poetry about the beginning of the world—“All things came into being through God, and
without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life…” then, we saw Jesus’ baptism, the call of the
disciples with the invitation, “Come and see!” Then, we heard about a
behind-the-scenes miracle where there was more than enough wine for the
wedding, a surprising abundance… and then Jesus encountering and overturning a
temple system that said people had to buy God’s love and favor—of course that
could never be true… and now, today, we overhear a leader who comes to Jesus by
night.
I don’t know exactly how
things are at your house, but for me, nighttime is often a time when deep
questions emerge. Maybe it’s because through the day, we’re going at such a
fast pace, moving through our routines, serving others… it’s at night when
finally all is still, that we wonder.
Matthew Kelly describes our wondering this way, “a common yearning in people’s hearts for something more or for something that has been lost…” a yearning that we try to satisfy in a variety of ways—through a partner, through our belongings, through our work, through our service—
“we take journeys hoping to discover something about ourselves… people pursue personal development, turn our attention to health and well-being, financial independence, to improving a relationship, and some turn to spirituality…” But Kelly says, “The hunger is really a desire for connection with God.”[1]
Matthew Kelly describes our wondering this way, “a common yearning in people’s hearts for something more or for something that has been lost…” a yearning that we try to satisfy in a variety of ways—through a partner, through our belongings, through our work, through our service—
“we take journeys hoping to discover something about ourselves… people pursue personal development, turn our attention to health and well-being, financial independence, to improving a relationship, and some turn to spirituality…” But Kelly says, “The hunger is really a desire for connection with God.”[1]
I can just imagine
Nicodemus—someone whose name means “conqueror of people,” the “man on top”[2]—being filled with this
kind wondering, which may or may not have been familiar territory for this
important teacher. This Jesus was certainly a force—who just goes into the
temple and turns over tables? Nicodemus had his own questions about how things
were done, but he would never have done that… on the other hand, Nicodemus had
seen the faces of the people, especially the people who had brought their whole
life savings for a couple of doves. Their faces had been filled with a
different kind of wonder than his—no doves needed, according to Jesus, God
comes to us and does not desire that kind of sacrifice.
So, Nicodemus ventures out
at night, when others will not see or question him, to bring his questions to
this Jesus, to see if he’s for real or just one more puffed up trouble-maker.
He comes with a compliment—or
maybe it’s a test—“We know you’re from God, no one could do these things apart
from God…” But then Jesus tells Nicodemus that actually God is inviting him
into a whole new life; an opportunity to be born again.
One of my colleagues around
our text study table reacted this way. “To be honest, I’m 58 years old, and I
have no desire to start all over again.” And you know, I think most of us can
get that… as young children, we want to grow up. In adulthood, we spend most of
our time trying to move forward in our own ways. Even when we are old, we might
wish we could go back to some cherished moment or go back to repair something
broken, but very few of us are looking forward to being as vulnerable as a
newborn, or having to learn all over again; not many of us are up to the
invitation to begin again… really. We ask with Nicodemus, when faced with the
charge to become new, when faced with the invitation to trust in the Holy
Spirit which is like wind that blows where it chooses and water that flows
where it will—how are we supposed to navigate that? How could we?
The writer of our Bible study this past Wednesday wrote:
Surrender. Vulnerability. Faith in an uncontrollable Otherness.
That seems an odd recipe for salvation. It’s no wonder that after hearing all
this, Nicodemus’ last words are: “How can these things be?” The story seems to
be hoping that our last words will not be the same.
But here’s where I want to
remember a little more of the story of Nicodemus. “How can this be?” was not
the last word we hear from Nicodemus. In the trial of Jesus, Nicodemus speaks
up:
50Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus* before, and who was one
of them, asked, 51‘Our law does not judge
people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing,
does it?’[3]
And after Jesus’ death, in the gospel of John,
it is Nicodemus who joins Joseph of Arimathea, who was a secret disciple of
Jesus, and who got permission from Pilate to bury Jesus. Nicodemus brings 100
pounds of myrrh and aloes and together they prepare Jesus body for burial in a
garden tomb.[4]
And this is one reason I don’t worry
about Nicodemus’ questions and Jesus’ questions back to Nicodemus… we don’t
have to fear the conflict because the story is still ongoing.
Maybe we’re also worried because we as
church also share “a common yearning…for something
more or for something that has been lost…” Over the past weeks, including at
last Sunday’s pre-meeting before today’s annual meeting, the topics of what
we’re yearning for and what we think has been lost have come up in small ways
over and over again.
Some are looking back at
days when we were actively reaching out to our neighbors, under Pastor Sandness
or Pastors Dave or Sue or Gary. We’re looking back at days when this sanctuary
was full under Pastor Johnson. We’re longing to find new ways to be accessible
to neighbors, serve food in environments that bring people together, and engage
young adults, high school youth, Confirmation students, and children in ways
that they find meaningful.
And sometimes, when these
topics come up, I have to admit that I wonder… how can it be? Because I’m
beginning to know that all these yearnings for something more or something that
has been lost, all these can only be satisfied by deep relationship with God.
- A new youth leader will not solve our longings for something more for our youth (although those who dedicate themselves to real relationships with youth will find that amazing)
- A new youth leader will not solve our longings for something more for our youth (although those who dedicate themselves to real relationships with youth will find that amazing)
-
Filling
every pew will not solve our sense of loss (although actually, we have had
larger numbers every year for the past five years)
-
Doing
amazing charity and justice work will never solve all the problems that
surround us (although it can bring relief from desperate loneliness,
depression, and anxiety to work together with others)
As we turn 150 years old as a church, we’re asked to do something
that might look impossible, and that is to begin again—to look to God who
birthed us and be willing to be dependent on Christ again, to be willing to
have the Holy Spirit blow us where she chooses and bring us new life. It’s
probably not going to look like a re-do of any hallowed era of the past;
because God is up to new ventures with us, but we don't have to worry because
even as we ask, “How can this be?” just like Nicodemus, our story together is
not yet complete…. Here we are, ready to begin, in the dark, fertile soil where
roots are going deep, and branches are resting in the cold winter, ready for a
springtime burst of healing leaves.
Our story begins and ends in Jesus, the Tree of Life, the One who
so completely showed us who God is in the world that we know now God did not
come into the world to judge us but to save us through immense love—love that
gives us all we need to be open to the joy, depth, and connection we long to
experience for ourselves and together.
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