Month: February 2008

Sunday’s Sermon: Crossing Boundaries With Jesus

John 4:4-42

[NB: As with last
week, I have slightly expanded the selection of verses in the Lectionary. As will
become clear from my first point below, verse 4 is critical to understanding
verse 5.]

Introduction
One of our children’s favourite shows on CBeebies
is ‘Big Cook, Little
Cook’, in which two chefs – one normal size, one tiny enough to live on
kitchen work surfaces – run a café. In each episode, someone comes to the café
for a meal. They wonder what to cook. They need a story to guide them, so they
get out a book. It is called, ‘Little Cook’s Adventures in the Big World.’

I suggest to you that we too need a story to guide us. But ours
is called, ‘Jesus’ Adventures in the Big World’ (or the Bible if you want to be
pedantic!). And here in John 4, Jesus is having one of his adventures in the big
world. He spends most of his time in the world, not the synagogue, going to
people and not waiting for them to come to him. And here he’s very definitely
in the big world. We’ll use some features of this adventure to plot what Jesus
is up to, and how we might respond.

1. Crossing
Boundaries
Here’s how Jesus arrives:

But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan
city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son
Joseph.  (Verses 4-5)

Did he have to go through Samaria? Jesus is travelling back from
Judea to Galilee. He chooses the most direct route, which would take three days
on foot. However, Jews preferred to avoid Samaria. This meant a detour that
doubled the time to six days.[1]

But Jesus doesn’t intend to avoid the Samaritans. Nor will he
avoid a woman, let alone one whose reputation means she comes to draw water at
the hottest time of day, avoiding the other women of the village.

So let me advocate the idea that we too are called to cross
boundaries in our journey through the big world. We may want to take long
detours to avoid people of dubious reputation, but we break the heart of Jesus
when we do so. Too often, we in the Church have been known as holier-than-thou,
self-righteous types, who look down with disapproval on those whose lifestyles
don’t match our moral standards. I would not say for one moment that we should
dilute our ethical convictions, but when they have become something that makes
us avoid other people for fear of contamination, then we have lost something
vital from the Gospel.

Equally, if we always expect others to come to us, we have
lost a vital dimension. The Gospel is not about ‘How can we get them to come
here?’ It is about how we find ways to cross boundaries and share God’s love
with people who are different from us.

Who are the people we would like to avoid? They may be
specific individuals, or certain groups or classes of people. If we would cross
the road to avoid them, might we hear the voice of Jesus saying, that’s not how
I travelled on my journey?

2. Drawing Water from
a Well
So Jesus meets the woman in the heat of the day at Jacob’s Well, when nobody
else is there. You would think that as a traveller he would have a skin bucket
with him, in order to obtain water. But he hasn’t. In crossing multiple
boundaries and asking the woman for water, he sets up a conversation that goes
way beyond what she expects. It’s not the first time in John’s Gospel that
Jesus says something in a conversation that the other person takes literally,
when Jesus has a deeper meaning. It’s happened in chapter three with Nicodemus
and being ‘born again.’ Now it happens here, with ‘living water.’

The woman doesn’t get it. She’d like living water. Then she
wouldn’t have to come here in the heat of the day, every day, avoiding the gossiping
eyes of the village.

We don’t get it, either. ‘Living water’ is a pun. It’s ‘running
water.’ The woman is after an uninterruptible supply of water, much as we have
from our taps. Then she can avoid the shame of coming alone at lunchtime to
Jacob’s Well. Her concern is to deal with her shame.

Jesus, led by the Spirit, knows this. He can cleanse her of
her shame. ‘Go, call your husband, and come back,’ he says (verse 16). She replies
that she has no husband, and Jesus says that is true: she has been married five
times, and the man she is with now is not her husband (verses 17-18).

Jewish culture allowed a person a maximum of three marriages
in their lifetime[2]. Is
she a woman of lax morality? I certainly used to think so. Then I learned that
only the men could institute divorce proceedings.[3]
They could do so for the most trivial of reasons. It seems likely, then, that
this woman, who has married five times and is now cohabiting, is someone who
has been treated like dirt by men since her early teens when she was first
betrothed.

Jesus doesn’t condemn her or call her to repentance. He doesn’t
even warn her to sin no more, as he does to the woman caught in adultery. He has
the holiness not to overlook her chaotic and broken lifestyle, but he also has
the compassion not to condemn her.

We have a similar call. One of the things people dislike
most about Christians is the self-righteous stuff. We can do a good impression
of a Pharisee. So when we cross boundaries, we have another task. To help
people find the living water of God, in which Jesus supplies total satisfaction
for life, our boundary crossing has to be done with grace. We are not merely
crossing boundaries in order to launch sorties against enemies. Nor are we
doing so to tell people that sin doesn’t matter. We cross boundaries so that
people may know the healing love of God in Christ. Is that our aim? Are our
hearts aligned with such an aim?

3. Two Mountains
‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet,’ responds the woman. She then launches into
a question about the location of true worship. Should she worship on Mount
Gerizim, according to her Samaritan tradition, or in Jerusalem, according to
Jewish teaching (verses 19-20)?

What do we make of this question? I used to think the woman
was employing a diversionary tactic. Jesus has got too close to home with
knowing about her pattern of broken relationships, and now she tries a
theological controversy to move him off this painful subject.

I no longer think she was doing that. If she were, then
wouldn’t Jesus have steered her back to a conversation about sin and
repentance? But he doesn’t. He takes up her question, and says that both
alternatives are inadequate. Salvation comes from the Jews, he says, but
location isn’t the issue any more: since God is spirit, true worship is in
spirit and in truth (verses 21-24). In the coming decades, armies would destroy
the precious locations for worship: the Jewish Temple in AD 70 by Rome and the
Samaritan temple by some Jewish forces in AD 138[4].

However, by saying that true worship of God is in spirit and
in truth is a way of Jesus saying to the woman, the door is open to all. You don’t
have to travel to a holy place. Distance, geography or race cannot limit you. The
barriers are down. Heaven is breaking in here, there and everywhere. Respond,
says Jesus!

And the woman wants to. She doesn’t understand, and longs
for the promised Messiah who will explain all things (verse 25) – only to find
she is in the middle of an audience with him (verse 26). If the ‘spirit’ aspect
of God’s character means we can worship anywhere, the ‘truth’ is its focus on
Jesus the Christ. Worshipping anywhere does not mean worshipping anyhow or
anyone. Always the goal is Jesus.

We see that when the woman disappears, back to the village. ‘Come
and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the
Messiah, can he?’ she says (verse 29). She doesn’t have it all sewn up, and
neither need we. We cannot delay answering the call to go on the journey of
mission, because we don’t have everything sorted in our minds. All we need is
to have had an encounter with Jesus. That is enough. It is enough for worship,
and it is enough for mission. Neither worship nor mission is to be reduced to a
speciality for the enthusiasts. Rather, Jesus may encounter us anywhere, and
the appropriate response is twofold: worship and mission.

4. Food for the
Journey
The disciples come back from their trip. All they can think about is food. However,
Jesus already has food – not a secret stash or sandwiches, but the satisfaction
of doing his Father’s will by being on his mission (verses 31-34). In fact,
Jesus is so committed to the Father’s mission that ordinary time lapses between
sowing and harvest are shortened (verses 35-38).

It’s a question of what ultimately satisfies a person. The disciples,
obsessed with food, have their eyes no higher than any other ordinary mortal
does. There are many examples today. People believe sex, more money, a new car,
the latest gadget, another pair of shoes, a worthwhile relationship or some
product that the advertisers tell us we deserve, will satisfy their lives. We
Christians, like the disciples of Jesus, are just as easily caught up in these
things. ‘If I can just have this thing, I will be happy.’ However, it is as illusory
as chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We even do it in a
churchy, ‘spiritual’ way: if I read this book, go to this conference, or if we
implement this strategy for church life, then everything will feel good. No, it
won’t. When we think like that, we are the biggest fools of all.

Jesus gives food that is satisfying, just as he gives living
water. You could relate this to his wilderness temptations, where he said that
we do not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth
of God. Here he is, living on the word the Father has given him by willingly
participating in his mission. This sustains him.

There is nothing like it for us, too. Here’s how it plays
out for me. I’ve never seen myself as an evangelist. My calling has always been
more to the church – to teach the faith and to help people discover God’s
vision. However, despite that, I can find Christians the most frustrating of
all people! (Maybe that’s how you view ministers!) I find it refreshing to help
my wife develop friendships with people in the community. Someone in a
difficult marriage; another person whose daughter is struggling; others facing
major cultural adjustments or living in a chaotic way. I can’t give away
confidences, but every now and then, Gospel opportunities arise, because we’ve
been willing to cross the boundaries, point to the living water and expect to
find Jesus everywhere. When we do, there is something profoundly satisfying about
it.

As I say, it doesn’t always come naturally to me. Too often,
I have been the kind of Christian who would adopt judgmental attitudes against
non-Christians. However, in recent years, God has been teaching me about the
importance of crossing boundaries instead of self-righteously expecting people
to make all the running in my direction. He has been showing me the need to do
this with grace, and that he will go ahead of me, because he is everywhere to
be worshipped. When we walk in his ways, following the example of Jesus, there
is a satisfaction in our souls that no gimmick, no gadget, no possession and no
technique can provide.

Isn’t it time to follow Jesus?

[1] I
am indebted to Richard
Burridge’s fine commentary
on John in the People’s
Bible Commentary series, p 66, for this insight. I am currently reviewing
this book for Ministry Today.

[2]
Burridge, p 69.

[3]
Roman law was different, and allowed women to divorce men.

[4]
Burridge, p 70.

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Vocation

From Len Hjalmarson:

Belden Lane relates the story of Peter Matthiesson, who in the late
sixties set out on a 250 mile trek across the Himalayas. The public
object of the trip, along with biologist George Schaller, was to
document the mating and migratory patterns of the Himalayan blue sheep.
But the real goal, near to the heart of Peter Matthiesson, was to
glimpse the rare and elusive snow leopard.

Reading the story it struck me that the public personal of ministers
is to get things done. People will pay us to do work that is
measurable, and to get results. But they won’t pay us to be on
pilgrimage. They won’t pay us.. and sometimes won’t even ask us.. about
the more important work we do. Yet it is the inner vocation that roots
the outer, and we talk about sheep, when we long for a glimpse of
something more elusive.

Ring any bells? It does to me.

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Rowan Williams And The Sharia Kerfuffle

While so many others in the Christian blogosphere have been
posting on this subject over the last two weeks, I’ve stayed silent. Mainly,
that’s been pressure of work. Probably this is too little, too late now: isn’t
one of the blogosphere’s curses something it shares with our culture, namely
the pressure for everything to be instant? If someone doesn’t offer an instant
opinion, there’s something wrong with him or her. If they do, and it is later
shown to be faulty judgment, that is held against them.

And that in itself is part of the difficulty here. We have a
culture that has marginalised the place for considered reflection. In an age of
near-instantaneous communication possibilities, we also expect
near-instantaneous wisdom. It’s a fallacy. Wisdom is gained over what Eugene Peterson called ‘a
long obedience in the same direction’, not something you expect of red-top
tabloids. The Sun’s terrible headline ‘Bash the bishop’, a crude reference to
masturbation, tells you more about their journalists and readership than
anything else.

A particular issue has been that of handling a serious and
nuanced academic debate, when given by a public figure. Some have argued that Rowan Williams should have
known that even though he was speaking to an academic audience, there was a
wider constituency for his speech, precisely because of who he is. They have
suggested he should not speak in such an intellectual way. (Certainly, the
tabloids can’t handle it.) The cry is for him to ‘dumb down’ or return to
Oxford. Others suggest his PR staff are at fault.

After a few days’ on-and-off reflection on this, my mind
went back to Neil Postman’s
seminal book on television, ‘Amusing
Ourselves To Death’. In it, he argues that television is not a good conduit
for serious debate. By its very nature, it reduces all exploration to simple
clashes between two diametrically opposed parties. There is no space on the
spectrum for views that fall in between. In politics, for example, everything is
reduced to ‘left’ versus ‘right’. This has caused problems for many years for
the Liberal Democrats, and in more recent years for New Labour (because they
are not ‘socialist’ but a mixture). It now affects David Cameron’s Tories.

My suggestion is this: Postman’s analysis is correct, and
the television mindset he describes has affected wider public discourse in
other media, now including the press. Newspapers that used to be able to
discuss things more subtly now live in the light of the sound-bite 24-hour news
channels and the near-instantaneous Internet. To compete, they drop the
subtlety and over-simplify. An academic paper by Rowan Williams never stood a
chance.

However, does that mean we should give up and dumb down? Not
in my opinion. James Emery White has
just written a paper that does not refer to the Williams/Sharia controversy,
but is pertinent. It is called ‘Big Brains, Small Impact’.
White laments the absence of the ‘public intellectual’. In past generations, he
argues, there were many more such people who maintained high academic
standards, but who still communicated with the public without sacrificing
intellectual integrity. Christianity had C S
Lewis; American society in general had Gore Vidal. Yet these
figures are rare today, he argues. What has changed? Today’s intellectuals more
often become professional academics, at home on the campus and writing for
journals. This is just as apparent in the Church, he says. You get either
mindless populist hogwash, or obscure academics writing for a niche audience. The
latter has been important, especially in conservative Christian circles, where
it has been essential to react against a prevalent anti-intellectualism. However,
it is no use if the academy is impressed with something so original it
qualifies as a PhD thesis, but is detached from reality.

It’s hardly uncommon for an Archbishop of Canterbury to hold
a doctorate. The position calls for someone who will – amongst other things –
be one of White’s public intellectuals. Rowan Williams, like C S Lewis, has
been an Oxford don. It is not an impossible call. The question is whether
Williams can make the transition.

Even if he does, the Church should be prepared for different
criticisms. Mockery will always come. Williams’ predecessor, George Carey, was no intellectual slouch,
with a PhD from King’s College, London, on the Shepherd of Hermas. (I should
declare that I studied under George for a year or so.) He had more of the
common touch. The media seized on that. He was the working-class boy from
Dagenham, with a charismatic spirituality. The TV satire show Spitting Image
caricatured him as spending his time singing ‘Kumbaya’ with the Scouts. George might
not have been a Lewis, but he had an ability to speak about faith to ordinary
people. But Christians should know ever since Jesus warned us that people would
paint a target on our chests and fire.

Williams didn’t help himself on one level. He knew there was
more to Sharia Law than cutting off the hands of thieves or stoning adulterers.
His immediate audience did. He didn’t take account of the wider audience, both
those inflamed by bigotry and those more nervous than ever of Muslims ever
since the attempts to bomb Glasgow Airport, apparently led by ‘respectable’
doctors. I have heard more than one ‘ordinary’ person say that before that
incident, they knew there were decent, quiet, law-abiding Muslims. However, from
then on, they didn’t know whom they could trust. Bigoted newspapers like The
Sun knew how they could easily tap into that. They knew popular sentiment. Rather
than address it, they exploited it.

Maybe some of the Church hasn’t helped itself in the
controversy, either. Williams had a good point for us in his lecture. We have
been used to asking for exemptions to allow for our conscience in society. Years
ago, medical staff got exemptions from involvement in abortions if it offended
their beliefs. More recently, however, members of the current Government have
seen the sexuality issue as a chance to hurt the church, especially the
Catholics: witness the agony over adoption agencies. There is a Christendom
mentality still operating in our midst that expects favours for the Church, but
for nobody else. If we want our exemptions (and on these issues, I for one do),
then we need to extend a generous spirit to other parties in a diverse society
like ours. Social cohesion is the buzz phrase: there are politicians who prefer
to treat it as social coercion. It is even more surprising (except when you
allow for this Christendom mentality) to hear Christians say there is one law
for everybody, when we have wanted a different law. Some of us are living in
the past, and it’s dangerous to do so. As a free church Christian, I am nervous
about Williams’ claim that as a pastor of the Church of England he should speak
up for other religious groups. It may be well intentioned, but it smacks of
Anglican imperialism. Would it not be better for us to help other parties get
their voice heard on their own terms – if they need the help, that is?

In summary: let us pray for more ‘public intellectuals’ from
the Church. Maybe Tom Wright and John Sentamu could step
into the rôle. However, let us still be prepared for ridicule. In the meantime,
let us contribute to the social cohesion debate, while recognising that we Christians
are not the only group in our society that will want exemptions on grounds of
conscience.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Admirer Or Disciple?

John 3:1-21

[NB: The Lectionary
only goes up to verse 17, but in doing so it stops in the middle of John’s
thought, and omits the awkward stuff about judgement. I don’t think that’s
responsible treatment of the text, hence the slightly longer reading here.]

Introduction
From the Department of Corny Jokes: who is the only Irishman in the Bible? Nick
O’Demus.

If you want to know who to blame for that terrible joke, I
heard Graham Kendrick tell it in a concert many more years ago than I care to
remember. Actually, blame me for repeating and perpetuating it.

So we come to this familiar story of Nicodemus meeting
Jesus. What’s it doing as a Lectionary Gospel reading during Lent? I would
guess it’s here to make us think about the basics of faith and discipleship at
this time. Sometimes the ‘going deeper’ of Lent is best done by returning to
the basics, rather than by getting more complicated.

I see Nicodemus as a confused character. He comes to see
Jesus by night (verse 2). ‘Night’ is usually symbolic for something bad in John’s
Gospel. Night comes when no-one can work, according to Jesus. When Judas goes
out to betray his master, we read that ‘it was night’. It is night when
Nicodemus comes. As a Jewish leader, he has to meet Jesus under cover of
darkness. Showing a keen interest in the unconventional rabbi from Nazareth
will not endear him to the other leaders on the Sanhedrin. Later, Nicodemus
will speak in defence of Jesus, and he will assist Joseph of Arimathea with the
burial arrangements after Calvary.

But Nicodemus comes in his own ‘night’, his darkness, the
teacher of Israel who doesn’t understand basic spiritual issues. He admires
Jesus’ miracles and teachings, and knows there is something of God about him
(verse 2), but it hasn’t clicked for him. He’s not that different from many
people today, who admire Jesus, but haven’t crossed over into the kingdom of
God. Some of his admirers who haven’t made that step are in our churches.

Essentially, Jesus tells Nicodemus, there are two elements
to life as God intended. Centre on these, and you’ll be a disciple, not merely
an admirer.

1. Born of the Spirit
No doubt Nicodemus’ compliments and pleasantries are sincere. But they don’t
impress Jesus. He comes straight to the point:

Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see
the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ (Verse 3)

Straight to the point, but what did he mean? Nicodemus
certainly didn’t understand. He took him literally:

Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having
grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’
(Verse 4)

Jesus explains the being born from above (or ‘born again’)
is about being born ‘of water and the Spirit’. Water is an image for the
Spirit.[1]
Only the Holy Spirit can bring spiritual life, says Jesus.

But what is this being ‘born of the Spirit’ or being ‘born
again’? That latter phrase, ‘born again’, has become a loaded one in the last
thirty years. I think it first came to prominence outside church circles when
Jimmy Carter ran for President of the USA in 1976. However, he was soon
disowned by certain Christians who thought he wasn’t born again enough, as it
were. ‘Born again’ then became associated not only with conversion, but with
particular viewpoints: a literal six-day creation, conservative politics and
unquestioning support for the State of Israel among other things.

However, according to Jesus, being born again of the Spirit
is simply conversion to faith and discipleship. So, take an occasion when as a
teenager I was taken by a school friend to a midweek youth meeting at his
Baptist church. Someone greeted me with the words, “Am I shaking hands with a
born-again Christian?” Believing I was a Christian, I said, “Yes.” My friend
looked on with some concern. His problem wasn’t that there were two types of
Christians, ordinary ones and born-again ones. His difficulty was that he didn’t
believe that at that point Christ had transformed my life. And he was right. But
– like Nicodemus – I didn’t understand.

When Jesus explains this spiritual birth to Nicodemus, he
says:

‘The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of
it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ (Verse 8)

Jesus is making a play on words. It’s the same word for wind
as for Spirit. The wind (or Spirit) blows where it chooses. They didn’t have
meteorologists two thousand years ago to say where the wind was coming from, or
headed. It was a mystery. You expect Jesus then to say, ‘So it is with the
Spirit.’ But he doesn’t. He says, ‘So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ If you are born of the Spirit, says
Jesus, your life will take on a certain character.

Put it this way: some people worry that they cannot put a
date and time to their conversion. They have the impression that all Christian
conversion should be like Paul’s on the Damascus Road. However, as I once heard
it said, you don’t have to remember your own birth to know that you are alive. You
just need to recognise the signs of life. And so it is with the life of faith. You
may not know when you were born of the Spirit; what’s important is that you
recognise the signs of the Spirit leading your life.

And, says Jesus, those signs look rather like being blown by
the wind. You will not have a quiet life, but one where you are blown in
surprising directions. The wind of the Spirit will blow you where you think you
cannot go, or do not want to go, or do not feel equipped to go. Yet the same Spirit
will empower you for the journey. Here is an
amazing story of one man’s journey of being blown by the wind of the
Spirit:

Kumar comes from Chennai, India. One day, on a bus, he twice
heard God say to him, “Seek me.” However, which God? He was a Hindu. A highly
qualified man, he isn’t stupid, and after eliminating certain possibilities,
someone lent him a Bible and started following Jesus.

His parents were unhappy and scheduled an arranged marriage.
He told his bride and her family the day before the wedding about his new
faith. Six months later, when it hadn’t blown over, a hundred and fifty
relatives and friends confronted him. When he wouldn’t recant, he escaped to
the United States.

There, he found a job, and a big church. At the church, he
became caught up in the emotion of a testimony time. He declared that he didn’t
want riches or a Mercedes; he wanted to return to India and tell people about
Jesus. Inwardly, he knew he had lied, but before he could do anything about it,
people prayed for his vision.

He took a fortnight’s holiday from his job in the computing
industry. He flew home, and went from house to house, talking about Jesus. Forty-five
people started following Jesus during that trip.

Today, it’s a hundred thousand. Many have been persecuted
and even killed for their new faith. There are a hundred pastors. 139
communities. Orphanages for children with AIDS. Schools for Dalit children, the
lowest caste of all. Shelters for young girls rescued from prostitution. Food. Medicine.
Kumar won’t allow any of these ministries to be named after him. They don’t
raise funds publicly: they pray instead. His mega-church gives just $1000 a
year.

Kumar is a man blown by the wind of the Spirit. Look what
happened. Granted, church can’t be exciting every week, but when so much of
typical church life is so terminally boring, might it just be the case that we’ve
forgotten this fundamental dimension of Christian living: if we are born by the
Spirit, we are blown by the wind of the Spirit into surprising places, and
Jesus is glorified?

2. Faith in Christ
Crucified
Remember poor Nicodemus, who just doesn’t understand Jesus? If he can’t
understand earthly things, what chance does he have with heavenly things? And
Jesus, the Son of Man, is uniquely qualified to speak of heavenly matters
(verses 11-13). So what heavenly things does he address?

‘And 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.’ (Verses 14-15)

Then, having said that, we then get the famous verse 16[2]:

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.

You want to see God’s love? You see it, says John, at the
Cross. This is how we know God loved the world. For it was at the Cross that
Jesus was ‘lifted up.’ Believing in Christ who was crucified because of divine
love for sinful people is the entry point to eternal life, to the kingdom of
God.

Jesus’ death for the sins of the world is what Christians
call ‘the atonement.’ Out of love, he dies in our place, as our representative,
and conquers the forces of evil, reconciling us to God. And a big problem for a
society that has largely rejected Christianity is atonement. How can we put
right our misdeeds? That’s why Ian McEwan’s novel that was made into a film
last year (and is now out on DVD) was called ‘Atonement’.
Briony, a thirteen-year-old girl, is jealous of her sister Cecilia’s
relationship with a young man called Robbie. She wrecks the relationship by
having Robbie framed for a rape. However, she regrets her mistake later in life
and wants to put it right. Can she?

The Christian answer is ‘no.’ We cannot atone for our sins
and mistakes. But Christ has done so in our place. And in atoning for us on the
Cross, he makes eternal life possible. For John’s Gospel defines eternal life
not simply as life after death, but as knowing God (17:3). And knowing God is
not possible until the barrier of our sin has been dismantled. Jesus does this
in a way we don’t fully understand at his crucifixion. Now, those who trust in
him enough to follow him find the way open to God.

All this should be basic Christianity. It is. Most of us
should be nodding in recognition – not just at the description, but also at the
experience of sins forgiven and a consequent knowledge of God the Father. And
yet, and yet …

… Isn’t the greatest tragedy in our congregations when we
have a conversation with somebody, who speaks about faith in terms of trying
their best to be good enough for God? The old heresy lurks large, that we can
be good enough for God. If we are more good than bad, if are more than 50%
good, if we are sincere, God will accept us. To all these aspirations, the
Cross speaks a decisive ‘No’. However good we are, we have an inbuilt tendency
to sin. A holy God can’t ignore it. Nor can a loving God.

That’s why Christian discipleship is Cross-shaped. ‘Nothing
in my hand I bring, simply to thy Cross I cling.’ And not merely when following
Jesus begins. We can never walk away from the Cross. Faith in Jesus who died
for our sins not only brings us into the knowledge of God, it keeps us there. The
tendencies to justify ourselves, and to try to atone for our misdeeds,
boomerang back on us, or creep up quietly from behind. Without noticing, we
slip back into the unredeemed ways of self-justification.

The Cross of Christ says ‘no’ to all of this. It says, kneel
here. Believe that Christ has died for our sins. Believe for the first time, and
believe every day. Then, let the wind of the Spirit blow you where it wills on
the adventure of faith.

[1]
See Colin G Kruse, John
(Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), pp 106-8 for a summary of four
different possible interpretations of ‘water and the Spirit’.

[2]
Note I am ambiguous about whether Jesus or John speaks the words of verse 16. I
am inclined to the view that it is John. There are no quotation marks in NT
Greek. You have to judge, therefore, where a quotation ends. I believe it ends
at verse 15, and that from verse 16 we get John’s commentary.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Admirer Or Disciple?

John 3:1-21

[NB: The Lectionary
only goes up to verse 17, but in doing so it stops in the middle of John’s
thought, and omits the awkward stuff about judgement. I don’t think that’s
responsible treatment of the text, hence the slightly longer reading here.]

Introduction
From the Department of Corny Jokes: who is the only Irishman in the Bible? Nick
O’Demus.

If you want to know who to blame for that terrible joke, I
heard Graham Kendrick tell it in a concert many more years ago than I care to
remember. Actually, blame me for repeating and perpetuating it.

So we come to this familiar story of Nicodemus meeting
Jesus. What’s it doing as a Lectionary Gospel reading during Lent? I would
guess it’s here to make us think about the basics of faith and discipleship at
this time. Sometimes the ‘going deeper’ of Lent is best done by returning to
the basics, rather than by getting more complicated.

I see Nicodemus as a confused character. He comes to see
Jesus by night (verse 2). ‘Night’ is usually symbolic for something bad in John’s
Gospel. Night comes when no-one can work, according to Jesus. When Judas goes
out to betray his master, we read that ‘it was night’. It is night when
Nicodemus comes. As a Jewish leader, he has to meet Jesus under cover of
darkness. Showing a keen interest in the unconventional rabbi from Nazareth
will not endear him to the other leaders on the Sanhedrin. Later, Nicodemus
will speak in defence of Jesus, and he will assist Joseph of Arimathea with the
burial arrangements after Calvary.

But Nicodemus comes in his own ‘night’, his darkness, the
teacher of Israel who doesn’t understand basic spiritual issues. He admires
Jesus’ miracles and teachings, and knows there is something of God about him
(verse 2), but it hasn’t clicked for him. He’s not that different from many
people today, who admire Jesus, but haven’t crossed over into the kingdom of
God. Some of his admirers who haven’t made that step are in our churches.

Essentially, Jesus tells Nicodemus, there are two elements
to life as God intended. Centre on these, and you’ll be a disciple, not merely
an admirer.

1. Born of the Spirit
No doubt Nicodemus’ compliments and pleasantries are sincere. But they don’t
impress Jesus. He comes straight to the point:

Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see
the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ (Verse 3)

Straight to the point, but what did he mean? Nicodemus
certainly didn’t understand. He took him literally:

Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having
grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’
(Verse 4)

Jesus explains the being born from above (or ‘born again’)
is about being born ‘of water and the Spirit’. Water is an image for the
Spirit.[1]
Only the Holy Spirit can bring spiritual life, says Jesus.

But what is this being ‘born of the Spirit’ or being ‘born
again’? That latter phrase, ‘born again’, has become a loaded one in the last
thirty years. I think it first came to prominence outside church circles when
Jimmy Carter ran for President of the USA in 1976. However, he was soon
disowned by certain Christians who thought he wasn’t born again enough, as it
were. ‘Born again’ then became associated not only with conversion, but with
particular viewpoints: a literal six-day creation, conservative politics and
unquestioning support for the State of Israel among other things.

However, according to Jesus, being born again of the Spirit
is simply conversion to faith and discipleship. So, take an occasion when as a
teenager I was taken by a school friend to a midweek youth meeting at his
Baptist church. Someone greeted me with the words, “Am I shaking hands with a
born-again Christian?” Believing I was a Christian, I said, “Yes.” My friend
looked on with some concern. His problem wasn’t that there were two types of
Christians, ordinary ones and born-again ones. His difficulty was that he didn’t
believe that at that point Christ had transformed my life. And he was right. But
– like Nicodemus – I didn’t understand.

When Jesus explains this spiritual birth to Nicodemus, he
says:

‘The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of
it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ (Verse 8)

Jesus is making a play on words. It’s the same word for wind
as for Spirit. The wind (or Spirit) blows where it chooses. They didn’t have
meteorologists two thousand years ago to say where the wind was coming from, or
headed. It was a mystery. You expect Jesus then to say, ‘So it is with the
Spirit.’ But he doesn’t. He says, ‘So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ If you are born of the Spirit, says
Jesus, your life will take on a certain character.

Put it this way: some people worry that they cannot put a
date and time to their conversion. They have the impression that all Christian
conversion should be like Paul’s on the Damascus Road. However, as I once heard
it said, you don’t have to remember your own birth to know that you are alive. You
just need to recognise the signs of life. And so it is with the life of faith. You
may not know when you were born of the Spirit; what’s important is that you
recognise the signs of the Spirit leading your life.

And, says Jesus, those signs look rather like being blown by
the wind. You will not have a quiet life, but one where you are blown in
surprising directions. The wind of the Spirit will blow you where you think you
cannot go, or do not want to go, or do not feel equipped to go. Yet the same Spirit
will empower you for the journey. Here is an
amazing story of one man’s journey of being blown by the wind of the
Spirit:

Kumar comes from Chennai, India. One day, on a bus, he twice
heard God say to him, “Seek me.” However, which God? He was a Hindu. A highly
qualified man, he isn’t stupid, and after eliminating certain possibilities,
someone lent him a Bible and started following Jesus.

His parents were unhappy and scheduled an arranged marriage.
He told his bride and her family the day before the wedding about his new
faith. Six months later, when it hadn’t blown over, a hundred and fifty
relatives and friends confronted him. When he wouldn’t recant, he escaped to
the United States.

There, he found a job, and a big church. At the church, he
became caught up in the emotion of a testimony time. He declared that he didn’t
want riches or a Mercedes; he wanted to return to India and tell people about
Jesus. Inwardly, he knew he had lied, but before he could do anything about it,
people prayed for his vision.

He took a fortnight’s holiday from his job in the computing
industry. He flew home, and went from house to house, talking about Jesus. Forty-five
people started following Jesus during that trip.

Today, it’s a hundred thousand. Many have been persecuted
and even killed for their new faith. There are a hundred pastors. 139
communities. Orphanages for children with AIDS. Schools for Dalit children, the
lowest caste of all. Shelters for young girls rescued from prostitution. Food. Medicine.
Kumar won’t allow any of these ministries to be named after him. They don’t
raise funds publicly: they pray instead. His mega-church gives just $1000 a
year.

Kumar is a man blown by the wind of the Spirit. Look what
happened. Granted, church can’t be exciting every week, but when so much of
typical church life is so terminally boring, might it just be the case that we’ve
forgotten this fundamental dimension of Christian living: if we are born by the
Spirit, we are blown by the wind of the Spirit into surprising places, and
Jesus is glorified?

2. Faith in Christ
Crucified
Remember poor Nicodemus, who just doesn’t understand Jesus? If he can’t
understand earthly things, what chance does he have with heavenly things? And
Jesus, the Son of Man, is uniquely qualified to speak of heavenly matters
(verses 11-13). So what heavenly things does he address?

‘And 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.’ (Verses 14-15)

Then, having said that, we then get the famous verse 16[2]:

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.

You want to see God’s love? You see it, says John, at the
Cross. This is how we know God loved the world. For it was at the Cross that
Jesus was ‘lifted up.’ Believing in Christ who was crucified because of divine
love for sinful people is the entry point to eternal life, to the kingdom of
God.

Jesus’ death for the sins of the world is what Christians
call ‘the atonement.’ Out of love, he dies in our place, as our representative,
and conquers the forces of evil, reconciling us to God. And a big problem for a
society that has largely rejected Christianity is atonement. How can we put
right our misdeeds? That’s why Ian McEwan’s novel that was made into a film
last year (and is now out on DVD) was called ‘Atonement’.
Briony, a thirteen-year-old girl, is jealous of her sister Cecilia’s
relationship with a young man called Robbie. She wrecks the relationship by
having Robbie framed for a rape. However, she regrets her mistake later in life
and wants to put it right. Can she?

The Christian answer is ‘no.’ We cannot atone for our sins
and mistakes. But Christ has done so in our place. And in atoning for us on the
Cross, he makes eternal life possible. For John’s Gospel defines eternal life
not simply as life after death, but as knowing God (17:3). And knowing God is
not possible until the barrier of our sin has been dismantled. Jesus does this
in a way we don’t fully understand at his crucifixion. Now, those who trust in
him enough to follow him find the way open to God.

All this should be basic Christianity. It is. Most of us
should be nodding in recognition – not just at the description, but also at the
experience of sins forgiven and a consequent knowledge of God the Father. And
yet, and yet …

… Isn’t the greatest tragedy in our congregations when we
have a conversation with somebody, who speaks about faith in terms of trying
their best to be good enough for God? The old heresy lurks large, that we can
be good enough for God. If we are more good than bad, if are more than 50%
good, if we are sincere, God will accept us. To all these aspirations, the
Cross speaks a decisive ‘No’. However good we are, we have an inbuilt tendency
to sin. A holy God can’t ignore it. Nor can a loving God.

That’s why Christian discipleship is Cross-shaped. ‘Nothing
in my hand I bring, simply to thy Cross I cling.’ And not merely when following
Jesus begins. We can never walk away from the Cross. Faith in Jesus who died
for our sins not only brings us into the knowledge of God, it keeps us there. The
tendencies to justify ourselves, and to try to atone for our misdeeds,
boomerang back on us, or creep up quietly from behind. Without noticing, we
slip back into the unredeemed ways of self-justification.

The Cross of Christ says ‘no’ to all of this. It says, kneel
here. Believe that Christ has died for our sins. Believe for the first time, and
believe every day. Then, let the wind of the Spirit blow you where it wills on
the adventure of faith.

[1]
See Colin G Kruse, John
(Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), pp 106-8 for a summary of four
different possible interpretations of ‘water and the Spirit’.

[2]
Note I am ambiguous about whether Jesus or John speaks the words of verse 16. I
am inclined to the view that it is John. There are no quotation marks in NT
Greek. You have to judge, therefore, where a quotation ends. I believe it ends
at verse 15, and that from verse 16 we get John’s commentary.

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0

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Admirer Or Disciple?

John 3:1-21

[NB: The Lectionary
only goes up to verse 17, but in doing so it stops in the middle of John’s
thought, and omits the awkward stuff about judgement. I don’t think that’s
responsible treatment of the text, hence the slightly longer reading here.]

Introduction
From the Department of Corny Jokes: who is the only Irishman in the Bible? Nick
O’Demus.

If you want to know who to blame for that terrible joke, I
heard Graham Kendrick tell it in a concert many more years ago than I care to
remember. Actually, blame me for repeating and perpetuating it.

So we come to this familiar story of Nicodemus meeting
Jesus. What’s it doing as a Lectionary Gospel reading during Lent? I would
guess it’s here to make us think about the basics of faith and discipleship at
this time. Sometimes the ‘going deeper’ of Lent is best done by returning to
the basics, rather than by getting more complicated.

I see Nicodemus as a confused character. He comes to see
Jesus by night (verse 2). ‘Night’ is usually symbolic for something bad in John’s
Gospel. Night comes when no-one can work, according to Jesus. When Judas goes
out to betray his master, we read that ‘it was night’. It is night when
Nicodemus comes. As a Jewish leader, he has to meet Jesus under cover of
darkness. Showing a keen interest in the unconventional rabbi from Nazareth
will not endear him to the other leaders on the Sanhedrin. Later, Nicodemus
will speak in defence of Jesus, and he will assist Joseph of Arimathea with the
burial arrangements after Calvary.

But Nicodemus comes in his own ‘night’, his darkness, the
teacher of Israel who doesn’t understand basic spiritual issues. He admires
Jesus’ miracles and teachings, and knows there is something of God about him
(verse 2), but it hasn’t clicked for him. He’s not that different from many
people today, who admire Jesus, but haven’t crossed over into the kingdom of
God. Some of his admirers who haven’t made that step are in our churches.

Essentially, Jesus tells Nicodemus, there are two elements
to life as God intended. Centre on these, and you’ll be a disciple, not merely
an admirer.

1. Born of the Spirit
No doubt Nicodemus’ compliments and pleasantries are sincere. But they don’t
impress Jesus. He comes straight to the point:

Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see
the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ (Verse 3)

Straight to the point, but what did he mean? Nicodemus
certainly didn’t understand. He took him literally:

Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having
grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’
(Verse 4)

Jesus explains the being born from above (or ‘born again’)
is about being born ‘of water and the Spirit’. Water is an image for the
Spirit.[1]
Only the Holy Spirit can bring spiritual life, says Jesus.

But what is this being ‘born of the Spirit’ or being ‘born
again’? That latter phrase, ‘born again’, has become a loaded one in the last
thirty years. I think it first came to prominence outside church circles when
Jimmy Carter ran for President of the USA in 1976. However, he was soon
disowned by certain Christians who thought he wasn’t born again enough, as it
were. ‘Born again’ then became associated not only with conversion, but with
particular viewpoints: a literal six-day creation, conservative politics and
unquestioning support for the State of Israel among other things.

However, according to Jesus, being born again of the Spirit
is simply conversion to faith and discipleship. So, take an occasion when as a
teenager I was taken by a school friend to a midweek youth meeting at his
Baptist church. Someone greeted me with the words, “Am I shaking hands with a
born-again Christian?” Believing I was a Christian, I said, “Yes.” My friend
looked on with some concern. His problem wasn’t that there were two types of
Christians, ordinary ones and born-again ones. His difficulty was that he didn’t
believe that at that point Christ had transformed my life. And he was right. But
– like Nicodemus – I didn’t understand.

When Jesus explains this spiritual birth to Nicodemus, he
says:

‘The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of
it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ (Verse 8)

Jesus is making a play on words. It’s the same word for wind
as for Spirit. The wind (or Spirit) blows where it chooses. They didn’t have
meteorologists two thousand years ago to say where the wind was coming from, or
headed. It was a mystery. You expect Jesus then to say, ‘So it is with the
Spirit.’ But he doesn’t. He says, ‘So it is with
everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ If you are born of the Spirit, says
Jesus, your life will take on a certain character.

Put it this way: some people worry that they cannot put a
date and time to their conversion. They have the impression that all Christian
conversion should be like Paul’s on the Damascus Road. However, as I once heard
it said, you don’t have to remember your own birth to know that you are alive. You
just need to recognise the signs of life. And so it is with the life of faith. You
may not know when you were born of the Spirit; what’s important is that you
recognise the signs of the Spirit leading your life.

And, says Jesus, those signs look rather like being blown by
the wind. You will not have a quiet life, but one where you are blown in
surprising directions. The wind of the Spirit will blow you where you think you
cannot go, or do not want to go, or do not feel equipped to go. Yet the same Spirit
will empower you for the journey. Here is an
amazing story of one man’s journey of being blown by the wind of the
Spirit:

Kumar comes from Chennai, India. One day, on a bus, he twice
heard God say to him, “Seek me.” However, which God? He was a Hindu. A highly
qualified man, he isn’t stupid, and after eliminating certain possibilities,
someone lent him a Bible and started following Jesus.

His parents were unhappy and scheduled an arranged marriage.
He told his bride and her family the day before the wedding about his new
faith. Six months later, when it hadn’t blown over, a hundred and fifty
relatives and friends confronted him. When he wouldn’t recant, he escaped to
the United States.

There, he found a job, and a big church. At the church, he
became caught up in the emotion of a testimony time. He declared that he didn’t
want riches or a Mercedes; he wanted to return to India and tell people about
Jesus. Inwardly, he knew he had lied, but before he could do anything about it,
people prayed for his vision.

He took a fortnight’s holiday from his job in the computing
industry. He flew home, and went from house to house, talking about Jesus. Forty-five
people started following Jesus during that trip.

Today, it’s a hundred thousand. Many have been persecuted
and even killed for their new faith. There are a hundred pastors. 139
communities. Orphanages for children with AIDS. Schools for Dalit children, the
lowest caste of all. Shelters for young girls rescued from prostitution. Food. Medicine.
Kumar won’t allow any of these ministries to be named after him. They don’t
raise funds publicly: they pray instead. His mega-church gives just $1000 a
year.

Kumar is a man blown by the wind of the Spirit. Look what
happened. Granted, church can’t be exciting every week, but when so much of
typical church life is so terminally boring, might it just be the case that we’ve
forgotten this fundamental dimension of Christian living: if we are born by the
Spirit, we are blown by the wind of the Spirit into surprising places, and
Jesus is glorified?

2. Faith in Christ
Crucified
Remember poor Nicodemus, who just doesn’t understand Jesus? If he can’t
understand earthly things, what chance does he have with heavenly things? And
Jesus, the Son of Man, is uniquely qualified to speak of heavenly matters
(verses 11-13). So what heavenly things does he address?

‘And 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.’ (Verses 14-15)

Then, having said that, we then get the famous verse 16[2]:

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.

You want to see God’s love? You see it, says John, at the
Cross. This is how we know God loved the world. For it was at the Cross that
Jesus was ‘lifted up.’ Believing in Christ who was crucified because of divine
love for sinful people is the entry point to eternal life, to the kingdom of
God.

Jesus’ death for the sins of the world is what Christians
call ‘the atonement.’ Out of love, he dies in our place, as our representative,
and conquers the forces of evil, reconciling us to God. And a big problem for a
society that has largely rejected Christianity is atonement. How can we put
right our misdeeds? That’s why Ian McEwan’s novel that was made into a film
last year (and is now out on DVD) was called ‘Atonement’.
Briony, a thirteen-year-old girl, is jealous of her sister Cecilia’s
relationship with a young man called Robbie. She wrecks the relationship by
having Robbie framed for a rape. However, she regrets her mistake later in life
and wants to put it right. Can she?

The Christian answer is ‘no.’ We cannot atone for our sins
and mistakes. But Christ has done so in our place. And in atoning for us on the
Cross, he makes eternal life possible. For John’s Gospel defines eternal life
not simply as life after death, but as knowing God (17:3). And knowing God is
not possible until the barrier of our sin has been dismantled. Jesus does this
in a way we don’t fully understand at his crucifixion. Now, those who trust in
him enough to follow him find the way open to God.

All this should be basic Christianity. It is. Most of us
should be nodding in recognition – not just at the description, but also at the
experience of sins forgiven and a consequent knowledge of God the Father. And
yet, and yet …

… Isn’t the greatest tragedy in our congregations when we
have a conversation with somebody, who speaks about faith in terms of trying
their best to be good enough for God? The old heresy lurks large, that we can
be good enough for God. If we are more good than bad, if are more than 50%
good, if we are sincere, God will accept us. To all these aspirations, the
Cross speaks a decisive ‘No’. However good we are, we have an inbuilt tendency
to sin. A holy God can’t ignore it. Nor can a loving God.

That’s why Christian discipleship is Cross-shaped. ‘Nothing
in my hand I bring, simply to thy Cross I cling.’ And not merely when following
Jesus begins. We can never walk away from the Cross. Faith in Jesus who died
for our sins not only brings us into the knowledge of God, it keeps us there. The
tendencies to justify ourselves, and to try to atone for our misdeeds,
boomerang back on us, or creep up quietly from behind. Without noticing, we
slip back into the unredeemed ways of self-justification.

The Cross of Christ says ‘no’ to all of this. It says, kneel
here. Believe that Christ has died for our sins. Believe for the first time, and
believe every day. Then, let the wind of the Spirit blow you where it wills on
the adventure of faith.

[1]
See Colin G Kruse, John
(Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), pp 106-8 for a summary of four
different possible interpretations of ‘water and the Spirit’.

[2]
Note I am ambiguous about whether Jesus or John speaks the words of verse 16. I
am inclined to the view that it is John. There are no quotation marks in NT
Greek. You have to judge, therefore, where a quotation ends. I believe it ends
at verse 15, and that from verse 16 we get John’s commentary.

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