Category: “Our Greatest Needs” series

Life for the Dead

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(2 Kings 4:17-37)

“Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” So wrote Benjamin Franklin to the French Physicist Jean-Baptiste Le Roy in 1789. Although it does not appear that Franklin was the originator of the phrase pertaining to the certainty of death and taxes, it was very likely his use of it that made the phrase popular. And it is a rather timely phrase, not only because the deadline for filing taxes is right around the corner, but also because two of the three readings in worship this same Sunday reminded us of the certainty of death. 

In the Gospel of John (ch.11), we hear of Lazarus, whose resurrection from the dead is arguably the most well-known biblical account of a person being raised from the dead – outside of Jesus himself, of course. In 2 Kings, we find a much less familiar account of an unnamed boy of unnamed parents who was raised by the prophet Elisha. While the two accounts do relate to the Benjamin Franklin quote, Franklin’s words also demonstrate something else: man’s inability to provide any real hope or comfort in the face of death.

Admittedly, one could argue that offering comfort or hope is not the intent of the Franklin quote. True, but couldn’t that just as easily be because that’s all the world can offer regarding death – no hope or comfort – just the certainty that death will come to each of us one day? 

You’ve very likely experienced the world’s inability to offer any hope or comfort if you’ve wrestled with the death of a loved one. It is a different thing to hear a non-Christian make such attempts. “Sending condolences or positive thoughts your way”, being “sorry for your loss”, and any other number of people’s personal ideas of what happens to us when we die – they all have this in common: they miss the mark terribly. 

But God has plenty to say in the face of death. Better yet, God has something to show us when words can sometimes fall short: he shows us life in the face of death. God shows us that it isn’t only death and taxes that are certain, but so is life from death. So as we consider one of the ten occasions recorded in Scripture in which the dead are brought back to life, we want to be reminded that when we face death, God provides much more for us than some empty, fast-forgotten phrase: he provides life. Real life. 

Though perhaps not as familiar as the other resurrection accounts in the Bible, the one before us from 2 Kings hits differently, as do any such accounts that involve children. While old age and long-lived lives ready us somewhat for the arrival of death, the death of the young increases its sting even more. But not even dying young allows death to put up such a barrier that God cannot overcome.

If we back up a few years before where we pick up in 2 Kings 4, it will provide some background. The Shunammite woman was a believer with not only the desire to support the Lord’s work but also the financial means to do so. She took on a building project to provide a place for Elisha to rest and recover as the itinerant preacher frequently traveled through her area. It was a room constructed on the top of the flat roof of her home, perhaps with its own external set of stairs to allow the prophet access to and from his room as he needed. 

As an expression of gratitude, Elisha offered to put in a good word for her. After all, Elisha not only had the backing of God’s generous hand but he also held a measure of influence among some of the royal officials. After she declined his offer, Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, pointed out that she had no son and the age of her husband seemed to rule out the possibility of her bearing a child in the future. So Elisha promised her that in a year’s time, she would be holding her own son in her arms. Sure enough, it happened just as Elisha said it would and the woman had a son, which is where our account picks up. 

After the boy was older, “one day he went out to his father, who was with the reapers. He said to his father, ‘My head! My head!’ His father told a servant, ‘Carry him to his mother’” (v.18-19). Although the cause of the boy’s suffering is not clearly revealed, it’s most commonly presumed that the boy was suffering from sunstroke – not at all uncommon in the region. While sunstroke could certainly be fatal, it didn’t appear that the boy’s father presumed it was that serious at this point. Thinking his situation was still treatable, the father directed a servant to take the boy inside to his mother to be cared for. Unfortunately, it was too late, as the boy died shortly thereafter on his mother’s lap. 

Mom didn’t waste any time. Placing the boy in Elisha’s bed in his room, possibly to keep avoid drawing attention to his death at this point, she made arrangements to visit the prophet Elisha. The timing surprised her husband, as there was no religious reason for her to be visiting the man of God. After the trip of between 15-20 miles, Elisha saw her arriving from a distance and sent Gehazi out to ask her if everything is alright. Determined to discuss the matter with the prophet himself and not his servant, she does what we still do today when we don’t wish to discuss our genuine feelings or concerns with someone by brushing aside any concerns with, “I’m fine.” 

But we already know that she wasn’t, and that became clear immediately as she came to Elisha. After reminding the prophet that she had never asked for a son in the first place, she fully trusted Elisha to do something about his death. She showed her persistence by insisting on remaining with Elisha even after he sent Gehazi ahead to try his hand at raising the boy by laying his staff on the boy’s face.

While we don’t know the significance of this action, it has been suggested that Elisha possibly knew the staff would not do anything and was setting the stage for superstition or other means to be ruled out so that it would be clear that the Lord alone would be responsible for this miracle. Regardless, after Gehazi returned to Elisha with word of his unsuccessful attempt, God’s prophet soon after arrived at the house.

What does Elisha do first? He models for us a great first step for every occasion: he prays. He knows that any miracle that would take place would only be the work of the Lord’s hand, so he rightly takes the matter to him first. Then, perhaps because it was the same manner used by his mentor, the prophet Elijah, in raising the widow at Zarapheth’s son from the dead, Elisha stretches his body on the boy. A dead body doesn’t take long to grow cold, and we’re told that the boy’s body started to become warm.

Yet this miracle wasn’t instantaneous (did God wish to stretch Elisha’s faith, too?). Elisha paced in the room, patiently allowing the Lord to work in his own time, and then persistently repeated the same action, stretching himself on the boy again. Finally, the sign of life, for dead people don’t sneeze! “The boy sneezed seven times and opened his eyes” (v.35). The Shunammite’s son lived! Elisha directed his servant to call for mom to come and hold her living son, which she did after falling to the ground at Elisha’s feet in humble gratitude for this miracle. 

The Lord’s hand in this account is evident. It was clearly a miracle that the boy was raised back to life in the manner he was, for there is no holistic reason or medical explanation for a life being restored by means of a living person stretching out on a dead person. No one who has died or is nearly dead is brought into a hospital’s ER so that the doctor can empty the room of all its medical equipment in favor of lying down on top of the person to save him. That’s not how it works! But, as we see in Scripture, it certainly can be how God chooses to work. 

Besides the miracle itself, which is always an amazing show of God’s power, what is the point? Why are the dead raised to life in the Bible? As I wrote earlier, including Jesus’ own resurrection, we have ten occasions in the Bible on which dead people are raised to life. But why?

Through these miracles, God tightens the connection between his physical and spiritual promises. What we see happen physically when God raises the dead solidifies for us the reality of what God also promises spiritually. 

We are all born dead in sin, but made alive only through faith in Christ (Eph. 2). As true as this spiritual truth is, it’s not always easy for us to grasp abstract spiritual truths. So what does God do? He shows us his power over physical death. He demonstrates what is possible by taking a lifeless corpse and making it alive.

What he has done physically he does for us spiritually. And because we believe he has brought us to life spiritually, we in turn have the confidence that he will do it for us physically. Do you see the relationship? 

God alone gives life to the dead – both spiritually and physically. We have the assurance of this because we believe. We have faith, the same faith in God as the Shunammite woman, very likely on the mind of the writer of Hebrews who wrote, “[By faith] Women received back their dead, raised to life again” (Heb. 11:35). Faith fills us with the doubly-blessed assurance of spiritual life and physical life forever. 

Outside of faith, there is no such guarantee. Outside of faith, a person may appear to be very much physically alive while at the same time remaining spiritually dead. If that person remains spiritually dead when he or she physically dies, the final result will be eternal death in hell. There will be no more opportunities for spiritual life after this physical life is over. This life, our “time of grace” as it is often called, is the time God has allotted for us to be made spiritually alive through faith. It is the time for us to see who Jesus is, what he has done, and to believe that as our Savior, he alone offers spiritual and eternal life to all who believe. 

At what cost? The events of Holy Week remind us, as the Holy Spirit takes us from the hosannas of Palm Sunday to the heartache of Good Friday. Jesus died so that there could be life for the dead. And in Jesus, that is what we have: life. And we aren’t just talking of spiritual life, but physical life. Real life. Eternal life. Through Jesus, death will not be your end, for he gives life for the dead. 

Sight for the Blind

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(John 9:1-7, 13-17, 34-39)

Often times when Jesus was questioned during his ministry – especially by the Pharisees – he provided the needed answer and not necessarily the desired answer to the question that was asked. But this is not one of those times. T,his time, when Jesus’ disciples ask him a question, Jesus answers their question plainly. But his answer to their question prompts us to wrestle with a follow-up question: Are you OK with the answer Jesus provides?

We have an opportunity here to learn a very powerful lesson from Scripture pertaining to the source of suffering. When suffering presents itself in our lives, whether it slips in subtly or crashes into our lives like a wall-size wave in the ocean, one of the first questions that we seek to untangle in our minds is “Why?” Why did this or why is this happening? Is this my fault? Is this from God? Is there some other reason for this suffering in this way at this time in my life? Why? 

And without being overly dramatic, how we answer that question can often serve as the strongest indicator of how well we’ll process and handle suffering in the future. 

Let’s go back to the beginning of the story that Jesus used to lay the foundation for the point he was making. Jesus and his disciples came across a man who evidently had been born blind. The disciples’ question reflected a sentiment that was very common in their day: they presumed the man’s suffering was directly tied to some sin. In other words, in its simplest form, the rationale goes like this: when something bad happens to a person, it’s because of something bad they did. In this particular case, the man’s blindness prompted the disciples to ask, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (v.2).  

Notice how strong their assumption was. They didn’t ask Jesus if it was possible that the man was born blind because of some sin he or his parents had committed. They had already concluded as much. The only help they needed from Jesus in their minds was to determine who was at fault – the man or his parents. It so permeated their thinking at that time that bad things happen to people because of the bad things they have done.

As flawed and flat-out wrong as this thinking is, it lingers in our minds today. Sometimes the suffering we experience might correlate with the sin very clearly in our mind. For example, “Because I trampled on God’s gift of sex for so long in my life, I’ll always suffer unhealthy relationships and never likely marry.” “Because I stole or was dishonest with financial arrangements in my past, my financial situation will always be a mess.” 

Other times there may be no connection whatsoever, but we nevertheless conclude that some bad thing from our past must be the cause of our suffering in the present. “That shameful thing from my childhood or teenage years with a group of kids that I was involved with is why I can’t get a job.” “My sickness or chronic pain is God’s way of getting back at me for neglecting him for so many years.” There are many other versions and varieties, but the thinking is the same: “My past sin is the cause of my present suffering.”

If I may interject momentarily to stress something important… do you see how destructive sin can be? It can be so easy for us to downplay it in the here and now because of our assurance of forgiveness, but don’t the examples just provided – as well as the unmentioned ones still lingering in your head and heart right now – demonstrate the gravity of sin?

Even though you know they’re forgiven, certain sins from our past cling to us and haunt us, refusing to be forgotten long after they’ve been forgiven. So it isn’t just that sin is an affront to God and separates us from him – which is its worst consequence, to be sure – but it’s also the long-lasting effect of collateral damage that sin does to us years after it has been committed. All of us have experienced this, yet we still so easily give sin a pass in our lives as if it’s no big deal – even as past sins are shouting a contrary message inside our minds! So sin’s lingering memory often contributes to our confusion over the source and intent of our suffering.

And we struggle with the “Why?” of suffering for another reason: On the one hand, your past sin is absolutely not the cause of your present suffering. On the other, it may very well be. Let me explain.

God is not in the business of punishing his people for sins that have already been suffered and paid for in full. Jesus already took the punishment of our sin and made full payment for every sin you’ve ever sinned. The writer to the Hebrews reflected it well. In referring to Jesus, he wrote, “Such a high priest truly meets our need—one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens. Unlike the other high priests, he does not need to offer sacrifices day after day, first for his own sins, and then for the sins of the people. He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself “ (Hebrews 7:26-27). Is God a liar? He is not. So if he says that our sin has been paid for once for all by Jesus, then there is no sin left unpunished. Your suffering is not punishment for your sin. 

On the other hand, your present suffering may have been caused by your past sin in the sense that it may be the consequence of it. Do you see the difference? Our society has laws in place that also include consequences for breaking those laws. For example, speeding, stealing, domestic violence, or drunk driving all carry legal repercussions from fines to jail time. While God isn’t punishing you for your sins in cases where you’ve been guilty of breaking the law, there are consequences.

And this doesn’t just apply to breaking the laws of government. There are other consequences. When God’s gift of sex is misappropriated outside the safety and security of marriage as he intended, unwanted children may end up being born to a single parent or tragically, even aborted. Disease may be spread or divorce may result. These are consequences.

When we fail to care for God’s gift of our body by neglecting any exercise or activity and eating garbage all the time, we are very likely to have health issues down the road. When we do, that isn’t God punishing us for our sin, but is rather a consequence of neglecting to take care of our body.

In all of these cases, God isn’t punishing us for our sins; rather, we are simply experiencing the consequences of our sinful choices. To be clear on all of these points, repentant hearts can be 100% sure that each and every one of those sins has been forgiven – but the consequences of some sinful choices may be ongoing. Sadly, sometimes those consequences can be so severe that Satan uses that to lead us to doubt or question our forgiveness. 

Being able to grasp the source of suffering allows us to then focus on God’s desired outcomes from suffering. Jesus clarified that in his answer to the disciples’ question: “this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him” (v.3). Just what was the work that God longed to display through this man? Jesus explained that further when he later encountered the man after the man had been badgered by the Pharisees.

“When [Jesus] found him, he said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’  ‘Who is he, sir?’ the man asked. ‘Tell me so that I may believe in him’  Jesus said, ‘You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.’ Then the man said, ‘Lord, I believe,’ and he worshiped him. Jesus said, ‘For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind’” (v.35-39). 

What is that key point from Jesus? He sums it up in that final verse. “Jesus said, ‘For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind’” (v.39). Jesus used this miraculous healing of a physical limitation to illustrate a deeper theological truth: only through faith in him can anyone see what matters more than anything that can be captured with physical sight; only through faith in him can anyone see the forgiveness and salvation he alone offers. Those who think they see the source of forgiveness, salvation – or for that matter righteousness or any other spiritual substance – in anyone or anything other than the Savior will remain in their blindness. Whether through eyes of faith we see salvation in Jesus or through the eyes of self-righteousness we are blind to it, on that basis alone will Jesus judge the world. In other words, Jesus came to provide sight to those who know they are blind on their own, and to blind those who in unbelief are convinced they can see just fine.

So, are you OK with the answer Jesus provides? For those of us with a genuine desire to see God use us in great ways for his kingdom purposes, it is quite natural that we’d prefer him to achieve that through our amazing accomplishments, along the lines of the famous evangelists or through a thriving ministry or via our financial backing of unforgettable building projects. But what if the greatest way he chooses to use us is to best display his glorious work through our suffering? Are you OK with that? 

The man whose eternity was changed for the better through Jesus this morning was OK with it. In fact, in hindsight, if we were able to interview that man from heaven right now and ask him if he had to choose one or the other – physical sight or spiritual sight, seeing his surroundings or seeing his Savior, which one do you suppose he’d choose?

There is no question. Undoubtedly the man would have willingly remained physically blind for the rest of his earthly life in favor of the spiritual sight Jesus provided for him. If God chooses to accomplish that eternal good through me, the act of leading souls to see Jesus as their Savior, then so be it – even if he uses my suffering to accomplish it. 

Hope for the Suffering

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(Romans 5:1-8)

Here we come across a verse that we would all do well to put into practice a little more often: “And we boast in the hope of the glory of God” (v.2). This is one of those Bible verses that certainly sounds spiritual and like one that we maybe ought to have displayed on some wall art in our home somewhere. But… sometimes we struggle to relate to what verses like this are actually saying.  

Paul doesn’t lack theological jargon in his letters. He uses words and terms that have deep spiritual significance. We have a hard time deciphering the spiritual verbiage and translating it into an understandable application for my life. So what is Paul saying here? I don’t think it’s twisting his words if we take them this way: we rejoice in the confidence of God’s “God-ness.” I know that last one is a made-up word, but we get it, don’t we? Paul is stating that we can find joy in knowing for certain that God is always going to show up, that he is always going to be doing the things that make him God. How do we know? That’s exactly what the “therefore” is there for in the first verse and following.

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand” (v.1-2). Pardon a little more theological jargon from Paul, but let’s restate simply what he is saying here, too: we have been declared not guilty of our sins because of all that Jesus did for us, and because we believe that, we have the perfectly peaceful relationship with God and live every second of our lives as the recipients of his fiercely devoted and limitless love. That is your reality right now and tomorrow and until God’s glorious return on the Last Day.

And since that is our reality, we find in it an unparalleled spiritual swagger that more than qualifies us not just to “get through” life, but to maximize our lives, to live them to the full, at all times… even when faced with suffering. 

You knew it was coming, didn’t you? If you looked at the title of this post or paid attention as you read through this section from Romans, you couldn’t miss the word suffering. Let’s go ahead and just acknowledge that that word wouldn’t make the top ten list of everybody’s favorite topics to talk about. And that’s OK. Neither Paul nor God ever says that suffering has to be our favorite. It is never implied that if you don’t get warm fuzzy feelings at the thought of suffering, you are somehow less spiritual or there’s something wrong with you. No, we don’t have to like it, but here’s the thing: we can learn to embrace suffering because of what God will do through it. 

I don’t imagine too many professional athletes relish the grueling hours spent disciplining their bodies in training and practice in the preseason and throughout the regular season. But those who have had the privilege of holding up the championship trophy at the end of the season would – and do! – go through all of it again year after year in pursuit of that end result. 

So it is with suffering in our lives. God doesn’t say you have to look forward to it or love it, but neither does he want us to shy away from it or to loathe it, because he guarantees that he’s always going to do good things in and for us through suffering.

No, we don’t necessarily need God to remove any inconvenient or difficult suffering in our lives; what we need instead is hope to endure it. And God provides that hope in two ways: 1) Hope is ours because of Jesus’ suffering, and 2) Hope is ours because of our suffering.

I. Hope is ours because of Jesus’ suffering

I wrote a moment ago that God guarantees that he’s always going to do good things in and for us through suffering. Could there be any better proof of that than looking to the crucifixion of Christ? It was the single greatest act of undeserved suffering ever experienced in the world, and through it, God brought the greatest good ever in the world: salvation for all people.

Paul delves into it more in the last part of these verses. “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (v. 6-8). Jesus’ suffering stands out so much not only because it was completely undeserved, but also because of those for whom he suffered, described in two ways in these verses: the “ungodly” and “sinners.”

Consider that the next time you try to smooth-talk your sin to someone else or give the “I’m not really sorry” apology. When we try to whitewash our sin, what are we really trying to convince ourselves and others of? Could it be that we’d like to pretend that maybe terms like “ungodly” and “sinners” ought to be reserved only for the really bad folks out there, but that they don’t really apply to us? 

We would like our sin to be like the one or two-day-old container of food in the fridge that may not smell 100% fresh, but it’s still good, still edible. Our sin isn’t like the stuff that got shoved to the back of the fridge for way too long that leaves no doubt about having spoiled once you take off the lid and the sight and smell trigger an instant gag reflex. Surely that’s not our sin. We want to think that our slightly less-than-fresh sin is not nearly as bad as the funky smell of other people’s sin. 

Realize that if we could hypothetically somehow make our sin appear less sinful, then there’s only one conclusion we could arrive at: Jesus didn’t come for us. We don’t need him. What a terrifying thought!

If Jesus didn’t come for us, then we are on our own, and if we’re on our own, though we might completely fool ourselves about our own perceived goodness, our fraud will be exposed for what it is on the last day when Satan eagerly presents his endless volumes of record books tracking our sins. God would have no choice at that point but to be the just God that he is and condemn any who thought they did nothing to deserve condemnation.

Because Jesus didn’t suffer for the slightly sinful. He didn’t die for the sometimes godly. He died for ungodly sinners.

And that alone is where the hope comes from which Paul refers to at the end of verse two. Hope because of Jesus’ suffering is only for the ungodly. It is only for sinners. We remind ourselves of that when we gather each week in worship by starting out the service confessing our sins – reminding ourselves of the ungodly sinners that we are on our own. 

But we do that for a purpose. Not to beat ourselves up or wallow in that guilt for an hour; rather, to set the tone for the hope that Jesus freely gives to ungodly sinners through the suffering of Jesus – hope that is applied to us as we are assured of the forgiveness of sins through the absolution. 

Now what does that hope have to do with your suffering? Everything, friends! Jesus’ suffering means that your suffering will come to an end, no matter what it is. Whether the cause of your suffering is financial, relational, health or work-related, or a direct consequence of your own sin – it doesn’t matter – it will end. But more importantly, the hope we have through Jesus’ suffering means always having something to look forward to. Always. Even chronic suffering is short-lived compared to the hope we have because of Jesus’ suffering, a hope that allows us to look forward to an eternity without any suffering. 

That’s well and good for the future, you might agree, but it may not seem to be all that helpful while we’re in the midst of the severe storms of suffering. That’s why Paul holds out even more hope to us. Hope isn’t just ours because of Jesus’ suffering, but 

II. Hope is ours because of our suffering

God wants to heap more hope on us. How does he do it? Through our suffering. Paul wrote, “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (v.3-5). There’s that word glory again. What on earth does it mean for us to “glory” in our suffering? We might better understand what Paul is saying with the word “rejoice” instead of “glory.” In fact, a good number of very reliable Bible translations use the word “rejoice” here instead of “glory.” Although, you might still be wondering if Paul is off his rocker in encouraging us to rejoice in suffering!

But he is not, and he is not because he knows – from first-hand experience, mind you – that God masterfully makes suffering serve our greater good. Only God could do that! Only the God who brought the greatest good out of the greatest suffering of his Son could also use something like suffering to produce a better version of us. And that is exactly what he does. How? 

Look at Paul’s progression: suffering produces perseverance, which produces character, which results in even more hope. 

Let’s break that down, starting with perseverance. This one might be difficult for us to see, as we have a tendency to nostalgically remember our past as if we’re fondly remembering a greeting card, which allows us then to filter out a lot of the turmoil that actually we experienced. But if your memory wasn’t so dishonest with you, you’d actually recall some pretty significant seasons of suffering, some things that, when you were just starting to go through them, seemed insurmountable at the time. They appeared to be way too much for you as the suffering loomed, and you couldn’t see any way through them. 

But what happened? You got through it (or better, God got you through it!). I mean, here you are today. You (God!) persevered. And because you (God!) did, in your own mind, as more time goes by, you don’t even remember how dreadful it was at the time. God brought you through it and you persevered. And each time God does that, each time he pushes you to persevere, you grow. How do we know?

Character is the proof. Perhaps the best way to describe what Paul is pointing out here is that when you persevere through suffering, God changes you for the better. He uses it to shape you and chisel away the character flaws and faults and replace them with faithful fortitude and fearlessness. 

As a Christian, you are not the same Christian you used to be. God has changed you for the better and will keep doing so. Yes, he’ll continue to use suffering to accomplish that, but if he is ultimately building my character as a child of God through it, then bring it on! That will only serve me, serve others, and serve God’s kingdom better in the future. 

Realizing how God does all of that through our suffering adds even more hope. God doesn’t waste suffering. Read that again. God doesn’t waste suffering. He uses it to keep his promises and bring good out of every situation. When I have that confidence – and every one of us reading this can and should – then I have hope. 

You may think the answer to your suffering is for God to remove it. And sometimes that may very well be his solution since he also delights in doing that! But other times it won’t. Other times he will allow suffering to persist because he wants to fill you up with hope – hope that is yours through Jesus’ suffering and through the good that God will work in you through your own suffering. 

Entry for the Excluded

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(John 3:1-17)

Nicodemus was having his doubts. As a Pharisee – and member of the Jewish ruling council, no less! – confidence, not questioning, had been his hallmark. He was taught and trained that if any group of people could be confident of its salvation, it was them. They were in. And they even reinforced their self-confidence. They tacked on additional manageable rules for themselves to highlight their rigid adherence to the law and pointed out the numerous failures and shortcomings of others in doing so. This was his life – the Pharisees fueled their self-assurance by patting each other on the back and elevating each other on pedestals of comparison to others. 

But the normally self-assured Nicodemus was not so sure. Doubts were creeping in. At the very least, questioning replaced confidence. We aren’t even told what it was exactly that began to leave him unsettled – a new experience for a confident Pharisee, for sure! While he couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was, he knew the source that was causing it: Jesus. So, to avoid being seen and ostracized by his fellow Pharisees for cozying up to the enemy, he felt more comfortable approaching Jesus under the cover of darkness. The key to regaining his confidence was to look for answers to his questions. Jesus was the place to start. 

Jesus is still the place to start. You have questions, questions you may or may not have ever verbalized to others, but questions that jumble around in your head, refusing to settle down quietly until they are eventually answered. Questions about Christianity. Questions about teachings. Questions about God. Questions about yourself and perhaps where you stand with God. That last one is the one question that demands an answer, and only Jesus can provide it: Am I in? Am I in with God? In other words, Can I be sure that I will be in heaven, and if so, how?

Sometimes things are backward. The least engaged among Christians are sometimes the most confident, while the most engaged are the least confident. There are those who make infrequent appearances in God’s house on a Sunday morning because they feel as if they have the Jesus thing down. They believe what they need to believe and are happy to call it good.

Others treat the church as their second home. This isn’t to impress others or because they are so confident of where they stand, but the exact opposite. They aren’t sure and so they internally cling to the hope that their above-and-beyond participation at church will help boost their credentials before God – as if that was how it really worked. 

But Jesus, and not worship attendance or church participation, is the place to start. Only in Jesus are questions replaced with confidence.

That was the experience of Nicodemus. As John records the conversation for us, we see Jesus take over. That’s what he does! When souls are at stake, Jesus takes control. In fact, Nicodemus may not even have really known precisely what question he had for Jesus, as he doesn’t even actually ask a question until after Jesus made his first point.

Nicodemus said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him” (v.2). It’s as if Nicodemus is talking himself through it, unsure exactly of how to articulate what it was that he needed to hear from Jesus. So what does Jesus do? He doesn’t just wait for Nicodemus to stumble through some incoherent, bumbling questions, but rather speaks up and starts down the path that takes Nicodemus to what he needs to hear. 

He started by taking some of the wind out of Nicodemus’ pharisaical sails. “Jesus replied, ‘Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again’” (v.3). You better believe that the self-righteous ears of the Pharisee perked right up when Jesus started with the attention grabber: “no one can see the kingdom of God.” No one. Regardless of your religious status or titles. No matter the recognition or reputation. Disregard the achievements or accomplishments. No one. Everyone is excluded. That is, “… unless…

they are born again.” Now before we rush into judgment at how simple-minded Nicodemus’ response to Jesus was (he had questioned how someone could return back into the womb to be born a second time), realize that Nicodemus was unintentionally highlighting the very point Jesus was stressing about being “in” with God: it’s impossible for us to do. It’s not our work, any more than anyone of us can claim any stake in the hard, toiling work we did on the day we were born.

Regarding our birth, who of us has ever thought, “Oh man, that sure was a long day and a lot of work on my part when I was finally born. It involved a lot of planning and preparation. I had to train extensively. Then, when the time came, I put in the grueling effort and decided it was time to leave the womb for the world and be born. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.” Laughable foolishness! We take and we get zero credit for any participation on the day we were born. So Jesus uses that very picture to emphasize that we also take and get zero credit for any participation in entering into the kingdom of God, into a relationship with the Lord.

Next, Jesus places the focus where it always must be in man’s relationship with God: away from man and squarely on God. Specifically the Holy Spirit. “Jesus answered, ‘Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, “You must be born again.” 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’” (v.5-8). Jesus essentially told Nicodemus how this all works by ruling out all of his works and leaving only room for God’s work through the Holy Spirit. 

Let’s not pretend that’s any easier for us to grasp today – even where faith is already present. We still fight, demanding some credit for this work, still reasoning that the two categories of “us” and “them,” of those who are in God’s kingdom and those who aren’t, has at least the slightest bit to do with me. It’s the real reason we struggle to forgive others or struggle to see grace extended to others.

We pretend it’s because of who they are, but really that struggle comes because of who we think we are. It’s our own perceived self-righteousness that demands at least a little bit of acknowledgment because “I would never do what that person did” or would at least make things right if I did, unlike that person. When we deceive ourselves into thinking this way, do we see how we’re really just right back there on the day of our birth demanding some amount of credit for our birth? Laughable foolishness! 

Our birth is entirely the Spirit’s work and only the Spirit’s work. Jesus made that much clear. “Flesh,” the Bible’s term to describe how utterly and sinfully corrupt mankind is on its own, cannot upgrade its status. No matter how much success parents might set up their kids for, the best they’re ever able to achieve before God is to present another generation of sinners. And we are powerless to do anything about it.

If anything of us or any part of us is going to be spiritual, it must come from the Spirit, Jesus said. And since that is God’s work, just as little as we can predict the direction, intensity, or frequency of the wind blowing, so little can we predict when God will do the work of changing a fallen-in-flesh sinner into a filled-with-faith saint. 

Understandably, Nicodemus still didn’t get it. So Jesus boiled it down to the simplest point. He gave him the gospel, which includes perhaps the most quoted, repeated, verse in all of Scripture in John 3:16. “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (v.14-17).

Jesus referenced the historical account of the grumbling snake-bitten Israelites being healed and saved – not with some anti-venom or ointment, but simply by looking up at a bronze snake that was hoisted up on a pole. In the same way, Jesus would be hoisted up on a cross, and all who look to him in faith as their Savior would also be healed and saved. Through him alone there would be – and there is – entry for the excluded. 

Nicodemus’ doubts could be laid to rest. Your doubts can be laid to rest. This is not because you can become more confident in yourself or your own actions, but in the simple promise of God that his love has given us what was needed to be “in,” to be good with God. His love has given us Jesus, not just the best place to start, but the best place to stay. 

This clandestine conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus concludes with somewhat of a surprise ending: it doesn’t have one. We are not told what happened to Nicodemus after this. His name comes up on two more occasions in John’s Gospel, one of which pairs him with a believer named Joseph at Jesus’ burial. While it would seem that Nicodemus did become a believer, we aren’t told that directly. We’re left hanging. Perhaps that is on purpose. It may be so that rather than speculating on what is uncertain, we can instead focus on something that is certain: our own salvation, based solely and surely on Jesus. About that there is no doubt. Believe it.