A Night Visit

John 3:1-10

Like so many of us, Nicodemus comes to Jesus because of questions. He wants to know the secrets to a happy life. He wants to understand why he (or anyone, really) is here. He wants to know the meaning of things as they happen. He wants to know the purpose for practicing faith. He comes to Jesus loaded with questions. He comes to Jesus confused, bewildered, but hopeful. He comes at night, perfectly matching how little he actually sees and understands.

And all he gets are riddles.

Man, if that doesn’t perfectly capture the total frustration of anyone who wonders about God. It also explains why a lot of church people default to something else, something simple, and something easily communicated—the ten simple rules for happiness; the five ways to know you are faithful; the three ways to know God loves you—see? Simple, direct, and sure to draw a crowd.

But that’s not really Jesus or what Jesus was about. Nope, the man answering questions with riddles is more the truth of God than we want to admit. And that God is the One seated at the center of our faith—an unknowable God who defies our reason. Yet, precisely because that is who God is, God can actually redeem us from all that threatens to break us.

Simple answers are not always the best answers. Sometimes it is wrestling with riddles that is a clearer way into redemption, for they are complex answers that match and meet the complexity of life as it is. 

And it will take a journey to unwrap their profound truth. That journey is faith.

Go back and sit with Nicodemus.

Nicodemus only appears in the Fourth Gospel. This story is his first appearance and encounter with Jesus. He will show up twice more—once arguing with his fellow leaders within the faith community about giving Jesus a chance to speak his case; and then at the crucifixion as one who compassionately helps to bury the murdered Jesus. From this first night to that last evening, we see the journey of one who was plagued by questions into comprehending the message and power of Jesus. It is easy to overlook Nicodemus after this first encounter, but John is masterful at including him in crucial moments as he unfolds his gospel, reminding the insightful reader of their own journey to understand and accept Jesus.

Begin with the questions.

We all have questions. They pop up in response to what we experience because much of what we experience has no ready explanation. As we watch the world around us, we are left confused, befuddled, and lost. How did we get here? What is going on? What happens to me in the midst of it? Those are all the existential questions that fire our religious curiosity. We want to find the reason which we know is something other than ourselves. We pray there is a higher power in charge, for left to ourselves, there is far too much chaos to foster hope of any kind. 

What questions bug you? What troubles your sleep? What are you at a loss to explain? 

Now pay attention to Jesus’ answers. They aren’t much are they? What is all this about being born from above? about being born of water and spirit? why bring up the wind? How does that answer any of those questions keeping us up at night? It may seem silly, but they begin to help by giving us something to think about while staring at the night-time ceiling. These riddles pull us inside. They itch to be explored further. We see Nicodemus beginning this process as he puzzles over them—how can a grown adult be born again? might that mean something else?

Now consider Nicodemus in the council meeting. 

Rumination begins to guide us. It offers a new way of responding. It invites us to reconsider all that we say and do. That’s the whole point of this season of Lent. It is meant to be a time of deep reflection. It is meant to be a time to reconsider all that we do and all that we are. As we do that, we begin to see something new. Possibilities begin to blossom all around us. We begin to pray, and realize one morning that prayer shapes our whole attitude about the day. We begin to consider letting compassion lead our response and reaction to everyday interactions, frustrations, celebrations, and arguments, and we begin to see how compassion transforms and transcends what we’ve been into something more aligned with how the Gospels present Jesus. We find ourselves wanting to encourage the skeptics to go a little deeper. We may even find ourselves inviting someone to come to church with us—I found something that seems to be working—come try it yourself!

Then consider the moment of discipleship—Nicodemus buries the man his own council condemned, offering love where there had been only rejection. Ever taken a stand on something no one else seemed to share? Ever found yourself all alone reaching out to someone no one else considered? That is the core of discipleship. Noted spirituality author, Richard Rohr, writes convincingly that when Jesus refers to the world, he is not so much describing anything global or literally anything that could be “the world,” but rather is speaking of the systems by which we arrange our culture and society. The church, if we follow Jesus, will be apart from those systems—it will present what Paul calls, “the more excellent way.” Our culture is driven by self. Everything focuses on me, mine, and myself. Jesus completely inverts that system. His way is about you, us, and them—open-ended compassion that serves others before oneself, emptying oneself to ensure another has all they need. That is radically other in relation to our current context.

So, we find Nicodemus openly caring for Jesus whom the system condemned and executed. 

And his life makes sense. He understands. He sees that which makes life meaningful, intentional, and worth living.

Do we? Do we see as clearly? Do we understand? Do we hear the voice of Jesus calling?

If so, start the journey.