Water and Spirit

 

Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

“How can someone be born when they are old? Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born?”

Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and Spirit [John 3:3-5, New International Version].

I think I’ve shared this story before, but during the late 1950s and early 1960s, our “pre-confirmation” Sunday School teacher at Olney Presbyterian Church, in southern Gaston County, made us play a “game” that she said would make us better Christians. She’d ask for volunteers from the group of adolescents—there were about a dozen of us. Would we stand and recite a verse of scripture from memory? If one was quick on the draw, one might get by with one of the familiar, easy verses—“Jesus wept” (John 11:35), or “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart” Luke 2:19].

Usually, after the several “good ones” were taken, most of us would lower our arms, trying to become invisible. There was the time the teacher picked on our brother, Jeff—two years younger than Todd and me—saying to him, “Come now, Jeff, you never raise your hand.”

Jeff—even then a marvelous contrarian—whom I think also saw little value in isolated memorizations, nevertheless quickly retorted, “When evening came, his disciples went down to the lake—John 6:16.” Not believing him, the teacher quickly looked it up. To her chagrin, Jeff was, of course, correct.

Many of you, had you been in Sunday School with me more than 60 years ago, would likely have raised your hand and recited a familiar verse from the Gospel reading appointed for this upcoming Sunday, the Second Sunday in Lent [John 3:1-17, RCL, Year A]. “For God so loved the world …” [John 3:16]. Some of us proclaim that verse to be the “Readers’ Digest Condensed Version” of the entire Gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed, it’s a special verse. It’s too bad that the verse’s context is often forgotten.

The context is a meeting after sunset—some have called it a clandestine meeting—between Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Jewish ruling council, and Jesus. Just when Nicodemus thought it was safe to leave his home after supper and have a quiet, erudite conversation with a fellow scholar, he encounters a man who is totally bewildering. Just when Nicodemus thought it might be enlightening to “pick the brain” of this upstart rabbi/evangelist who had burst upon the scene in first century Palestine, he finds before him a man—this Jesus—who effortlessly bores though all one’s defenses.

Seeking to flatter Jesus, Nicodemus says that he and his colleagues “know” that Jesus is a teacher come from God [John 3:2]. Jesus responds by telling Nicodemus that he is presumptuous in his “understanding.” Jesus essentially says, “You may think you see the way in which God’s Kingdom is oriented, but you really have no clue.” Jesus’ actual words are:

Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again [John 3:3].

“Whoa!”

Nicodemus comes to Jesus to discuss theological issues and finds the One before him offering powerful metaphors of earthly things, of birth, water, and wind. Nicodemus regards himself as a seeker and yet finds in Jesus the One who truly seeks. Moreover, Nicodemus discovers that Jesus doesn’t just desire to meet and talk; Jesus comes to love us and save us [John 3:16]. Nicodemus discovers that when Jesus approaches, things happen—things that are far beyond our control.

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit [John 3:8].

Earthly things—birth, water, and wind—in the hands of the Anointed One, they become powerful and mysterious.

I’m reminded of the baptism of our grandson, Jack. As to his baptism, we may have waited too long, or perhaps, we didn’t wait long enough. For various reasons, Jack was almost four when he was baptized at a 9:00 a.m. worship service at Trinity Avenue Presbyterian Church by the Reverend Donovan Drake and me.

You see, Jack has always been tall. He’s currently a 10th grader at Jordan H.S. here in Durham. Jack is 6’5” and still growing. At four years old, when Donovan picked Jack up to administer the baptismal waters over which I had prayed for God’s blessing, Jack’s shoes hung well below Donovan’s waist. It was difficult to tell who was holding whom. And then, as Donovan dipped his hand into the baptismal font to collect some water and move it toward Jack’s head for the administration of the sacrament, Jack stuck out his hand and yelled, “Whoa!”

The congregation chuckled with Donovan and me. Then Donovan turned to the assembly and said, “Jack understands this is serious business that we are today undertaking. Once we are marked by Christ, the world is never the same.”

In a true sense, Jack’s response was not unlike that of Nicodemus who, in his own way, looked at Christ and said, “Whoa!” You see, just when Nicodemus thought it was safe to approach Jesus for some polite, lively conversation, he finds that Jesus is instead moving toward him, seeking to transform—yes, even save him. As C.S. Lewis put it:

Christ says “Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work. I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked — the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours” [C.S. Lewis, MERE CHRISTIANITY, emphasis added].

Earthly things—birth, water, and wind—Jesus is the barber to whom we say, “Just a little off the top.” Yet, there are no half measures with the Messiah. His response is to shear away as He pleases. Our desire is to accept Jesus in measured amounts, all the while saving room for our own choices, our own control mechanisms, our own will. We may even realize that we have fallen from the boat, but we think we’ll be able to swim to shore on our own. Christ’s desire—no, His plan—is to pluck us from the churning sea.

In our Wednesday Bible Study sessions, I can usually somehow steer our discussion to the subject of my weekly meditation, even if the Scripture passages are not connected. And so, this morning, although we were in John 17, we talked for a bit about Nicodemus. As many of you know, his story doesn’t end with his encounter with Jesus in the dark of night. Much later, on a dark, dark Friday afternoon, when the disciples had all scattered like the wind, two men came forward and received permission to collect the body of the Messiah. One was Joseph of Arimathea, who gave up his own tomb for the Christ. The other was Nicodemus, who brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, “about seventy-five pounds” [John 19:39].

Whoa! In an eerie sense, Nicodemus has switched places with Judas. Three years earlier, Judas had been called into the Light with the other disciples. In the end, however, the betrayer slips into the dark, dark night. Nicodemus, on the other hand, initially comes for Jesus by night, but in the end, he comes into the Light. We come to understand that the Spirit blows wherever it wants. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it might be going.

Water and Spirit: You didn’t see this coming. Just when you thought you were safe, just when you thought that you could craft your own plans, your own future, your own goals, and desires, just when you thought you could swim to the shoreline on your own, the Spirit breathes up and down upon you, and you are His forever.