Creekside Church Sermon of February 24, 2002 "Too Good To Be True" John 3:1-17	Rev. David Bibbee
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Some people are afraid of the dark. Some don't mind it. Some prefer it especially thieves. Sometimes we go places and do things where we do not want to be seen.

This was the case of a man who discretely made his way one night down streets and alleyways to meet Jesus. His name was Nicodemus, a well-known Pharisee who wielded considerable influence. We don't know if the rendezvous had been pre arranged, or whether he just showed up in the middle of the night gently tapping at the door or pitching pebbles at Jesus' bedroom to wake him. We do know he did not want to wake the neighbors and risk being spotted by people who would recognize him.

You couldn't blame him, really. Nicodemus was a highly respected man who probably was a member of the Jewish Sanhedrin. I picture him as an older man. He was wise, theologically articulate, and not only knew the law forward and backward, but lived it to the letter. Yet for all his knowledge, all his wisdom, and all his obedience, Nicodemus was in the dark. Despite his good standing before the law, the assurance that he was right with God and would enter God's kingdom eluded him. Everything on his spiritual things I must do list had been checked. Still, something was missing.

Nicodemus had heard about Jesus. He probably had seen for himself the healings Jesus performed. What he saw led him to believe that Jesus was a man of God. He believed just enough to seek Jesus out, but not enough to do it in broad daylight. Nicodemus' religion was musty… full of, "You must do this, you must do that," but there was little joy or life in it. "Rabbi, we know you are a teacher come from God, or you couldn't do the things you do." But Jesus saw through Nicodemus' flattery to the heart of his concern. Nicodemus had taken his first step out of the dark and into the light. "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above," Jesus said, or as most of us have learned the passage, "We must be born anew, or born again."

In John's gospel, people consistently misunderstand Jesus. Nicodemus wanted to get a grip on specifics. He wanted a blueprint for his life to get over what was bothering him. "Born from above? How can I do that?" Nicodemus asked. "How does a patient in the geriatric ward get into the delivery ward? How will I squeeze back into Mama's womb? How can an obese man get into a phone booth without someone shoving from behind?"

Notice what Jesus didn't say. He didn't say rebirth is something of our doing. When some born again Christians talk of their experience, they talk about it not as a gracious gift from God, but an achievement. They wear "born again" like a badge and tell others, "You're not really a Christian unless you are born again… like them. You have heard the imperative "You MUST be born again!" I call this, "do it yourself" salvation. Go to Lowe's or Home Depot. These are the temples where do it yourselfers worship. Check out the library near the entrance full of books on how to "do it." They show easy to follow, step-by-step instructions with detailed illustrations, everything you will need to build a garage or a gazebo.

We've been taught, "You can't earn your salvation or work for God's love." Our head believes it, but the core of our being doubts it. We have been trained to rely upon ourselves. "Don't ask anyone to do for you what you can do for yourself." Tell us what to do and we'll do it. Come to church every Sunday morning and night… and Wednesday nights, too? We'll do it. Read only Christian books? We'll do it. Read the Bible more, pray more, give more, and criticize less? Of course we'll do it. But if we do, will it be enough to pass? Then will we be born again? No, Nicodemus, we won't.

Being born into the living hope given us in Jesus is essential and continual. But "born again" language can cloud our understanding. Jesus didn't tell Nicodemus to be "born again". The Greek verb is "anothan" which means, "born from above." "Anothan" also means, "from top to bottom." It descends upon us. "Love divine all loves excelling, joy from heaven to earth come down."

"But how can it be?" Nicodemus asked. Jesus replied, "You're a teacher of the law and you still don't get it? Have you had your hearing tested lately? It's not born again. It's born from above. Quit lashing all those ladders together. Don't try climbing, one step, one effort, one deed at a time. You'll never climb high enough. It's not bottom to top. It's top to bottom, heaven to earth, God's stretch, not our strain.

How far back can you remember? I remember an experience from age 2. My son John says he remembers his birth. I asked him what I was wearing at the time but he didn't remember. How far back can you remember? Back to when you were a gleam in your parent's eyes or a thought in God's mind? Did you bring yourself into being? How did you manage to get yourself out of that dark, cramped, little world of amniotic fluid and into a world of light and sight and sound you never knew existed? You were pushed out? Who pushed you? We had nothing to do with our births. It was beyond our control, and so is spiritual birth. We can desire it, pray for it, be open to it, but when and how, is beyond our control.

While Nicodemus kept asking Jesus, "How? How? How can it be?", a gust of wind blew, causing their clothing to flutter and dance. "That's what it's like to be born from above," Jesus said. "It's like the wind. You don't know where it came from or where it will go. You can't summon it. It's God's doing."

I remember when I was young, trying to sleep on hot, muggy summer nights. We had no air conditioning. My bed was next to the window, but it gave little relief. The air was absolutely still. The curtains hung motionless. But there were times the curtains softly swayed. The leaves on the maple tree outside my window began to rustle. A breeze was blowing. It brought fresh air and cooling relief. The wind of the Holy Spirit is like that. It's a gift we receive.

Do you remember when the wind blew and you were changed? Last Sunday during the last hymn, Dave Eis was singing like the rest of you. Then came the refrain: "Jesus, light serene, eternal? Glorious Sun of righteousness! Morning Star of all the ages, with thy beams our spirits bless." Dave thought of his father. The hymn was his dad's favorite. He thought of his father's hard life; how hard he worked and how little he received. There was sadness, but the sadness turned to an assurance that his father's life wasn't lived in vain.

In the last two months four of you had similar experiences. You came to church with the weight of grief. You came though your heart wasn't into worship. You came with diminished attention because you were preoccupied with other things. You came without any expectations. Then you sang and the wind blew. You didn't know why, but something grabbed you. A beam of God's love descended, and you were reduced to tears. It wasn't in your plans.

Through the Holy Spirit, ordinary lives become born from above lives, joy-filled God's love-filled lives. During Lent we consider the lengths to which God went to have us. We think of the reasons new life SHOULDN'T come to us-our failures, our sin, our neglect of God and those who need us. Living our lives in ways that are unpleasing to God. We would be hopeless if we had to change ourselves by ourselves. That is why God so loved the world that he gave his only Son. He died for us so we could live for him. He left just two signs of his love and the hope of eternal life…a cross and an empty tomb.

It takes more than one birth to live, here and hereafter. It takes more than a born-again experience. It takes being born from above, growing and changing again, and again, and as many agains as our lives on earth permit. The apostle Paul put it like this in the third chapter of Philippians:

Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own but this one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and straining to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

In college, one of my professors insisted that we memorize the great quotes of great theologians. At the time I thought it was a waste. I wish he was still with us. I would tell him I am grateful for the discipline that remains with me. A passage from the German theologian Paul Tillich stuck. In an essay on God's grace, he wrote these words I have revisited many, many times when I need reminded that God's salvation is not a reward to be earned but a gift to be received. He said this:

Sometimes in our moments of darkness a wave of light breaks in and it is as though a voice were saying: "You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!"

Simply accept the fact that you are accepted. Accept the fact that God so loved the world that he gave his only son. Accept the fact that nothing we can do will bring it about. Accept the silver flood descending from heaven. Don't let it stop at your head. Allow it to assend to the botton of your being.

I know…it sounds too easy. It seems too good to be true. And do you know the best part of all? It isn't!

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