In the 1970s there was a man named Rollen Stewart who started attending sports events and doing big gimmicky things to get in front of the camera. He said later he didn’t care at all about sports, but it was a way of getting a lot of attention, which he did care about. Then he became a “born-again” Christian and his purpose changed. Now he wanted to draw attention to the gospel. So he started carrying in sheets or banners with “John 3:16” printed on them in big bold print. A lot of people didn’t have any idea what that referred to, but it sparked their curiosity. It became a thing. And John 3:16, which Martin Luther, centuries ago, called the gospel in miniature, came to stand in for the whole of it.
For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
It’s a very good verse. But, just as the meaning of life is bigger than a bumper sticker, the gospel of Jesus Christ is more than a single verse. So let’s give it some context.
This verse, John 3:16, comes in the middle of a story in John’s gospel about a man who visits Jesus – a Pharisee named Nicodemus. He has questions.
But as a prominent leader in the community, he has some concern about his reputation, too. He comes to see Jesus at night. How would his colleagues react if they knew he was seeking guidance, enlightenment, from Jesus? This was something he didn’t want to have to explain, so he came in the dark of night.
He begins by acknowledging that Jesus is empowered by God. He says, “we know you are a teacher who comes from God, because no one could do these things you do apart from God.” That much he knows. But it quickly becomes clear that Nicodemus is really struggling to make sense of it all. Because Jesus doesn’t fit into any of his categories.
Jesus says to him, no one can see the kingdom without being born from above. Jesus says, no one can enter the kingdom without being born of water, born of the Spirit, and this becomes all too much woo-woo for Nicodemus. He gets bogged down in the details. Born again? How can anyone re-enter his mother’s womb after he has grown? Born from above? From the wind? From the Spirit? How can any of this be?
Jesus continues talking to Nicodemus, but Nicodemus never says another word. For all we know he is already slinking away back into the shadows of his ignorance. There is a part of Nicodemus, right now the stronger part, that does not want to know. Nicodemus would rather remain in the dark than step into the light.
But light is not an either/or thing. Light is a full spectrum thing, with an infinite number of shades.
In this story, we see Nicodemus taking little baby steps into the light. He opens with the offer, “We know you are from God’ – little step into lightness. But then, “How can these things be?” – a little step backward. When Nicodemus walks away from Jesus and returns to his life, he carries little sparks of light, but not much more. For now, anyway.
It is a struggle for Nicodemus to understand because he is unwilling to let go of what he already knows, and what he is hearing from Jesus doesn’t fit in with what he knows. As one writer has put it, he cannot “let go of the ordinary to make room for the extraordinary.”
And maybe we should ask ourselves if we would be any different. If we were to encounter something that challenges all that we hold dear, everything we believe, how willing would we be to step right into the light of this new thing?
The fact of the matter is that, when you step into the light, you have to give up a lot. Nicodemus would have to give up the framework of his beliefs and values. He would have to give up his status in the community. He might have to give up some relationships that are important to him. He would give up a lot. And, for what?
Maybe Nicodemus has a glimmer of an idea that there is something extraordinary to be gained, if only he were able to let go of all the other things. Maybe there is a very small voice inside of him saying that this man, Jesus, truly is the way to life, and that everything he has known of life so far is a pale comparison to the life Jesus can offer him. But then, he might think. Can I trust this? Can I, Nicodemus, actually have this life? Do I believe in it?
The matter of belief is central in this passage, as it is throughout John’s gospel. Believing is the key. But in Nicodemus we recognize just how hard believing can be.
Throughout much of the history of the church, we have understood this word, belief, as solely a thing we do with our minds. An intellectual assent to an item of doctrine. Do you believe Jesus is Lord – it sounds like a yes/no question. Black and white. Light and dark.
But we misunderstand this gospel when we set such limits. The Greek word in the text, pistis, which is actually closer to the word faith than belief, might open us to other possibilities. What does it mean to have faith in Jesus? What does it mean for our lives? right here and now?
The analogy Jesus offers may help us to see a bigger answer to the question. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” This is not a pithy little saying like John 3:16. It is definitely going to require some context.
The story of Moses and the serpent is found in the book of Numbers, the fourth book in the Old Testament. This is pretty late in Israel’s 40-year wilderness exile – an exile which is necessary because of all the unlearning and relearning they need. It’s something that doesn’t happen all at once. Like most of us, they need to be hit over the head with a 2×4 many times before they get it.
In this situation, they are bickering because of a detour they are forced to take in their journey. They complain, as they have done many times before about various things. So, the story goes, God sent venomous snakes among them, and many were bitten and died. Then the people cried out, “Oh wait, we’re sorry!” and so God instructs Moses, “Here’s what you can do: create a poisonous snake out of bronze and set it on a pole. Anyone who is bitten can look up at the snake and will live.”
It’s bizarre. But it’s also an old familiar pattern: The people complain against God. God sends them a wake-up call. The people confess their sin and their need of God. Moses intercedes for them and they live. The details change, but the story is the same.
But here is one distinction. In this story, God does not do as they ask and take away the snakes. Instead, God sends an antidote. Look up at the snake on the pole and you will live. Look away from the immediate problem. Look up and see how the problem has been transformed into the solution. How death has been transformed into the means of life. Look up and see how evil is transformed by goodness and you will live.
And as long as there are poisonous snakes in our midst, there is always a need to look up.
And so it is, Jesus says, just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up. Like the serpent, Jesus is the means of judgment and death becoming the means of forgiveness and life.
Jesus, lifted up, invites us to bring everything we are and all we have into the light. He invites us, like Nicodemus, to search ourselves and see all the ordinary things that keep us from fully entering this extraordinary light with him. In the light, we will see what is broken and what breaks us. We will be invited to let go of these things and be healed.
Jesus lifted up is the sign of healing of all the brokenness in this world. Jesus lifted up is the hope of life in all its fullness.
John calls us to believe. Believe in the forgiveness that is ours for the asking. Believe, have faith, in the power of love that Jesus bears in his body – and be saved.
Live in this light and lift up that light for all the world.
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