Sermon Title: "Only Part of the Story"
Date: March 22, 2009
Minister: Rev. Charles E. Ensley, Jr.

Lesson:  John 3:14-21

Because of deadlines for newspaper ads and publicity for Easter three Sundays away, two weeks ago I had to select the lesson, theme and title for my Easter sermon, which will be “The Rest of the Story.”  However, after reading today’s lesson, I thought this particular sermon ought to be entitled “Only Part of the Story.”

For some strange reason, the compilers of the Revised Common Lectionary begin this lesson in the middle of a conversation.  In fact, if you were reading along in the pew Bibles, the lesson begins in the middle of a paragraph.  There is no indication of who is talking—Jesus—or to whom he is speaking—Nicodemus.

Remember him?  The Pharisee, a leader of the Jews, who came to Jesus in the dark of night, not to persecute him, not to grill him, but in a very curious manner to ask him some very serious questions.  The back story before today’s lesson begins has Jesus telling him that no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.  Nicodemus misunderstands, and asks how a grown man is to enter into his mother’s womb again. 

Typical of Jesus, especially in John’s Gospel, there are often two layers to what he says.  There is the literal meaning which can be understood—or misunderstood—one way by the person hearing, and the figurative meaning which has an eternal, timeless significance to a much broader audience.

So, now we enter upon the part of the story—or conversation—that is already in progress.  Here is the answer to all those “3:16” signs you see at televised football games.  The essence of the 21 verse conversation with Nicodemus reaches its pinnacle here, when Jesus says,

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,

so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

This Gospel lesson shows up every three years on this Fourth Sunday in Lent.  I pondered not preaching on it this year, but then decided if there was any one verse which sums up the whole point of this Lenten season of preparation for celebrating Christ’s resurrection at Easter, it is John 3:16.  Here is the whole of the Gospels in one verse.  Why did God come in the human form of Jesus?  How much does God love us?  What did Jesus’ sacrifice mean for us?

Can there be any better news among us than God loves the world, that God doesn’t want to condemn the world, and that God desires to save the world?  The light of God has dawned on us in Jesus Christ.

However, this verse can lead to some questions about universal salvation, for by the time you get to verse 18, it says, “Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.”

I can still see and hear someone sitting in my office—who has since left for another church—saying they believed in a very narrow gate, and that Jesus Christ was the only way to God.  So, what about people in other religions?  Is salvation, or eternal life, available to them by another way?

Just as I said last Sunday that I am reluctant to speak for Jesus, so too am I reluctant to declare authoritatively what God will or will not do.  All I can assert is that, in John, Jesus is offered to the whole world.  Those who believe in him as the Son of God are promised eternal life. 

John goes further to draw back the veil between darkness and light.  Today’s Gospel proclaims the sad truth that “the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light.”  There you have the truthful tension that is at the heart of the good news/bad news that is Jesus Christ.  The season of Lent is that season when the church tries to do justice to both sides of that good news/bad news.  God loves the world; yet, for its part, the world loves darkness rather than light.

We can’t really see the light that dawns upon us until we are truthful about our love of the dark.  We’ve got to be honest about the whole story.  Can matters between us and God be so bleak?  Let’s keep ever before us the realization that the story of Jesus’ relationship with us ended not with him being proclaimed the grandest teacher, best friend, most perceptive intercessor with humans in the world but rather with Jesus being condemned as a common criminal who had earned the very worst of agonizing, humiliating deaths by crucifixion on a cross. 

On Maundy Thursday, at the conclusion of the communion service in Gabrielson Chapel, worshippers are invited to leave in silence.  There is no musical postlude.  There is no conversation.  They simply leave to go out into the darkness, the same darkness into which Jesus walked that night after the Last Supper when he went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, and be arrested.

Why did Nicodemus begin his visit to Jesus, the one that started this whole story, in the darkness?  Did he think he had a better chance of a one-on-one conversation with Jesus at night?  Was he afraid of being seen by others who would question him as to why he sought out this strange new teacher?

Whatever happened to Nicodemus anyway after the conversation was over?  Was his heart changed when he heard the words, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life”?  Did he later remember what Jesus said about “being lifted up” after the crucifixion, or when the apostles reported his ascension into heaven?  What became of this ruler of the Jews?  No one can say for certain.  Nicodemus is mentioned a few more times, only in John’s gospel, as a Pharisee involved in a discussion of Jesus’ identity. (7:50-52)  He offers a word of defense, but is quickly put in his place.  After the crucifixion, Nicodemus bought myrrh and aloes and helped Joseph of Arimathea prepare our Lord’s body for burial—clearly not expecting a resurrected Savior. (19:38-42)  Did he later come to believe, or disappear back into the shadows of his old life?

The more important question is where do you find yourself in this story?  It may be that as the head of a family or leader in the church, you have become locked into thinking you must do certain things, take care of business as usual, in order to survive.  Perhaps, like Nicodemus, you have discovered that the ways you learned to think and talk and cope still leave an emptiness that only Jesus Christ can fill.  Maybe you have been afraid to trust God’s Son rather than your own efforts.  Sometimes we’ve preferred to sit alone in the darkness with our fears rather than let the Spirit lead us.

Whoever you are in the story, Jesus’ part remains the same.  The word he offered to Nicodemus in the middle of the story so long ago is a word for us today as well.  His word invites us out of our bondage, sorrow, and darkness to be made new by water and the Spirit.  Jesus comes to us—to us who believe in him as God’s Son—not to condemn, but that the world might be saved and reconciled to the Father through him.  Christ’s true light is offered to anyone in the world who chooses to believe.  It is the answer to every question that comes in darkness or night.