John 3: 5-10
“Jesus answered, "I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is 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." "How can this be?" Nicodemus asked. "You are Israel's teacher," said Jesus, "and do you not understand these things?
When I was a child, I spent some fun times at my grandmother’s house. Her house was full of neat things of intrinsic value. One such item was an old time radio which today would probably be at least 70 years old. When my grandfather passed away, my grandmother gave that old radio to my mother. Years later, I saw that same radio sitting in my mother’s bedroom. On the outside, it was clean and polished. However, it didn’t work because the inside coils were dirty and dusty.
Nicodemus reminds me of that radio. On the outside, he looks pretty good. Over the course of his lifetime, he had risen through the ranks of religious leaders in his community to the point where he has a reputation for being a pretty spiritual guy. Jesus calls him “a teacher of Israel.” That’s quite a compliment. Nicodemus has his offices in Jerusalem. He’s a theological insider, an expert on spiritual things, someone who is skilled at teaching these things to others. It would be difficult to find fault with Nicodemus based on the externals.
But if you were to explore Nicodemus on the inside, I wonder what you’d find? It’s apparent that he’s interested in Jesus and wonders what’s going on with him, but it’s also apparent that Nicodemus doesn’t seem to get it when Jesus starts to talk to him about a deeper life of the Spirit. “You must be born again,” Jesus says. Nicodemus scratches his head and says, “Huh? That’s not possible. I can’t crawl back into my mother’s belly and start over just like that.” Maybe he’s being cynical. Or maybe his voice is more wistful than that: “Can human nature really be changed? Can we really start over? I don’t think so.” Either way, he doesn’t really believe what Jesus is telling him. His whole life had been not only a witness but also an example of how it’s possible to hold a religious faith that grows grimy and dusty with time and loses its ability to change a life.
That sort of faith is a pretty showpiece and will impress the socks off most folks who look at it. They’ll “ooh” and “aah” over the mastery a man like this has over the Bible and the various commentaries that have been written about it. They’ll be impressed by his ability to argue about theological trivia. Still others will be overwhelmed by the breadth of knowledge and depth of insight he has into the present situation in Jerusalem. He’ll know all about the prophecies about the Messiah and will be looking forward to his arrival.
But it’s all just so much dust being stirred up, isn’t it? Because, when push comes to shove, Nicodemus seems to be a good religious man, but he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to receive what Jesus is telling him. He doesn’t seem to connect with the possibility that things in his life really can be any different. He’s been held hostage all his life by a view that values tradition over transformation; that values convention over conversion; that views any change in the system as a threat to his position and personal security. He latches on to the dust and detritus of his unproductive faith with a death-grip because he knows if he lets go he’ll need to change on the inside. And that’s something he’s not quite so sure about.
Kicking the dust off our faith doesn’t mean that we have to change every now and then. Rather, change is a fundamental and ongoing characteristic of those who live their lives under the leadership of Jesus. You might even say that a follower of Jesus is someone who is undergoing continuous conversion or change. Unfortunately, he doesn’t give us the option of following him without letting him change us.
There’s something extremely sad about Nicodemus. He has so much knowledge and so much potential, but his faith is dusty. Is he religious? Most assuredly. Does he know the Bible? No question. Nicodemus is not a rascal or a degenerate. He’s probably never committed adultery or stolen anything in his life. He signifies the very best that we as humans have to offer. But there’s a tragedy in this because his life and his faith are inadequate to the demand that Jesus places upon them.
Kicking the dust off our faith involves more than renewed resolve or attempting to live a better life. It takes an act of God. Like us, Nicodemus has to be born from above. The wind of the Spirit will have to come and blow the dust off all of us. The water of the Spirit will have to come and wash the dust off us. All the determination and willpower in the world can’t remove the dust from my faith. Only God can bring about that kind of change. The wind blows where it wants to. We don’t make the wind and we can’t move the Spirit. Rather, the Spirit must move us if we are to become whole again and have the grime and dust of a decayed faith driven out of us.
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