John 3:14-21
Light
and Darkness
These have been difficult weeks for this
community of faith. Amid all the stress
and strife of a global pandemic, we have had many illnesses among us - and
three deaths. Folks are in the hospital and
cannot have visitors, injuries happen and travel limitations make it difficult
to be there to help. The homebound are
lonely, as are the grandparents who must accept that visiting is just not a
good idea.
I have had lots of opportunity,
these past several weeks, to spend considerable time with those who find
themselves fearfully close to the edge.
Let me tell you one funny story. It is happened when my mother was in the
hospital and it involves my brother-in-law – himself a widower. My sister died seven years ago and on my way
to the burial of Janice Castor I am going to pick up Doug’s car. The decision has been made that he should
stop driving. But this is a funny story;
and I want to share it with you.
My mother was in the hospital,
sharing a room with a woman who sometimes needed help. This woman had two daughters who came and
went, but they didn’t spend the long hours in the room that we were there. So she would often ask us if we would help
her with this or that. My brother-in-law
found himself in the room, alone. He
noticed the woman trying to open the cellophane wrapper on a piece of
candy. We listened to him recounting the
episode, including comments about how sorry he felt for this old woman whose
hands were not nimble enough to open the wrapper. Our interest turned to dismay as my
brother-in-law told us how he had helped the woman open her candy bar. “But Doug,” we shouted in unison, “the woman
is in the hospital because she has diabetes and she won’t stay on her diet!”
The woman did get to go home. But it was a couple of days later than the
family had hoped. We didn’t mention the
whole candy wrapper episode to any of her children and she certainly wasn’t
going to say anything either.
My presence, among all the sick and
suffering, has forced me to reflect on exactly what it is that being a
Christian does to change my life and my expectations about life. I have had to ask myself how there could be
so much hardship; such a great amount of trials and tribulations. As one dear friend said to me, “God may not
give us more than we can handle, but I sometimes wonder if God thinks I am as
strong as he is.” The load we are given
can be more than anyone should be asked to bear.
My drive between this place and my
home is about the same whether I take the interstate or drive through
Easley. Driving the interstate I get to
avoid all those huge trucks. But some do
prove interesting. I saw one with bible
verses painted on all the sides. A
couple of the verses were somewhat obscure; others were taken from the parts of
the Bible where God is angry and looking for someone to blame. But right there in the middle of them all was
the verse which adorns at least one banner in every end zone of every football
stadium in America. John 3:16.
Driving on the Interstate, between
one crisis point and another, I found myself wondering how we ever got to the
point where the simplest, most affirming verse of the Bible could have ever
come to be associated with anything vaguely resembling God’s wrath and
judgement. I am grateful that the owners
of that truck that they choose to fill the empty space with a few words from
the Good Book. But the juxtaposition of
verses did disturb me and pushed forward my consideration of exactly what it is
that being a Christian does to change my life and my expectations about life.
John 3:16 is spoken by Jesus in the
course of a conversation with a man named Nicodemus. Nicodemus comes to Jesus under the cover of
darkness. He comes at night because Nicodemus wasn’t supposed to be there. He was a member of a religious group whose
leadership didn’t think very much of Jesus and Jesus’ message. The feelings were mutual, Jesus spoke against
the false piety and misplaced emphasis which characterized the Pharisees. Pharisees considered themselves righteous
before God and confident in their own salvation. And yet Nicodemus, this Pharisee, comes to
see Jesus. He comes asking for guidance.
Jesus tells him, “Just as Moses
lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up,
that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
Maybe it is this mention of “eternal
life” which provides the foothold for some sort of emphasis on making the mark
or failing to do so. The Pharisees had
become overly focused on day-to-day obedience to the commandants. Because of this fixation, they failed to see
the larger picture. With a somewhat
similar fixation, we have become obsessed with the final manifestation of
eternal life. All too often, all we want
to talk about is “Heaven.” And so, we
turn one of Jesus’ clearest affirmations into an admission test for getting
into that place with pearly gates and streets of gold.
Jesus isn’t talking about heaven –
or I should say he isn’t talking only about heaven. This whole conversation with Nicodemus has
been about rebirth and life. Jesus isn’t
limiting his offer to some reward in the sweet by-and-by. The reward of which Jesus speaks, should we
receive it, is of eternal life. But the
eternal life which Jesus has in mind speaks to more than simply what is going
to happen after our bodies wear out. He
speaks to Nicodemus of a gift of grace which begins now and is brought to
perfection in the life to come.
“For God so loved the world¼” this is how John
3:16 begins. The 16th verse
is a continuation of the foundation which Jesus has been building for the
previous 15 verses. The goal isn’t to
take us (nor Jesus) out of the world.
The aim is to give us a rebirth so that might live in the world. Live, as God would have us live. Live in such a way as to participate already
in those things which are eternal.
I told you a story of my mother’s
stay in the hospital. During one of
those, she asked me one time why we were putting her through all this. Why didn’t we just let her die. The nurse who was attending to her at the
time helped me. She said to my mother,
“Mrs. Heavner, you didn’t ask him if he wanted to be born. You decided that. Now it is his turn to decide.”
The decision which Jesus makes is to
enter into the world. He comes here, to
this place, with all its pain and suffering and hardship and illness and
disease. This grand entrance is made,
not because the world is some god-forsaken sphere of stone. Christ comes because “God so love(s) the
world.”
The exam – if there is one – is
putting our trust in that love. The
litmus test – if you will – is determining whether we will trust in our own
devises or if we will believe in God’s goodness and God’s graciousness. The judgement, which has come into the world,
is that there is this great treasure trove of God’s love and mercy - and yet
many choose to trust in the workings of their own hands.
The great irony of God’s
grace-filled entrance into our world is that it ends with a horrible execution
and death. The One who came - the very
emblem of God’s love - is hated, rejected and crucified. This presents a stumbling block for many
folks. We are eager to talk about Jesus’
resurrection, about this eternal Kingdom in Heaven, but we try to skip over his
death. When mentioned, it is all too
often used as a way to speak of evil actions and to admonish listeners not to
succumb to such temptation. But Christ
does not avoid the cross. He willingly
takes it up and accepts that this is the way it is to be.
God may be able to save us. Christ may be able to liberate us. But nothing can be done to change the
limitations of our bodies. Kidneys will
cease to function, chemicals will get out of balance, cancers will develop, and
car accidents will occur. This is the
world. Such is the world which God seeks
to love.
At some point, a change comes over
you. It is a change birthed from one’s
confidence in God. It has nothing to do
with a thought or a decision. It has
everything to do with seeing things through the light of Christ.
This change creates within us a
tremendous desire to see and to know. It
insists that the Truth be spoken and that personal interests give way to that
which is pleasing to God. This change
brings with it an ability to believe. An
ability to trust. An ability to hold
fast even when swirling forces would pull us apart. This is not of our “own doing; it is the gift of God.”
This is how being a Christian
changes our lives and our expectations about life. Not by removing us from the disease and
deprivation, but by birth us into an existence which is eternal. We are re-born children of God. And as such we know that our lives have
eternal and lasting significance.
Eternal significance.
Amen.
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