Step Into the Light

Scripture Lessons: Numbers 21: 4-9 and John 3: 1-21 Sermon Title: Step Into the Light Preached on March 14, 2021 There are some figures in Scripture that I find it so easy to relate to. I hope that’s true for you, because the heroes of our faith, especially when we can see ourselves in their shoes, help to make Scripture and the journey of faith come alive. For example: When we think about Peter and walking out onto the water, I can just about feel myself sinking, because I know what it is to take that first brave step and then to become immediately terrified. When we hear about Thomas wrestling with his doubts, I think about every question I’ve ever had but was too afraid to ask. Dropping off our girls at their first day of school I was so glad not to be Moses’s mother, but still there was a feeling of helplessness as they walked away from me and into their new classroom, and my prayer was probably much like hers, that God would watch over them as they left me standing there, helpless and afraid. At different times of my life, I’ve felt something like all of them, even the villains like Pilate or Pharaoh. However, it’s hard for me to think about Nicodemus because I know what it’s like to be in his shoes just a little too much. He’s just a little too familiar. A little too much like me, or I’m a little too much like him, and this struggle of his is my own struggle. Maybe it’s yours too. Do you know what it’s like to only feel the freedom to admit that you need something when you’re sure that no one else is listening? Do you know what it’s like to not have anyone else to talk to about what your struggles? Do you know what it’s like to feel the pressure of presenting yourself as whole, self-sufficient, strong, impenetrable, and flawless in the light of day, while falling asleep every night exhausted from pretending that you have it all together when you know you don’t? Nicodemus. This Scripture Lesson from the Gospel of John comes around every year, and I dread it, because in dealing with him I have to deal with me. I have to look again into my own heart, and it’s hard, because every preacher thinks he’s supposed to be perfect while knowing that he isn’t. Every father feels insufficient underneath his suit of armor. Every husband wants to provide more for his wife and must struggle to believe that his spouse could really love him for who he is. Not a single one of us wants to live in a glass house, because there are insecurities which we want to keep hidden from the neighbors who are watching and judging us. So, at night Nicodemus goes. You know why. He goes at night to see Jesus because he can’t show the world that he needs a savior. In the day he can’t appear to need a single thing, so there is some security in the darkness that enables him to be vulnerable. He can only reveal his need when he won’t be seen. It was at night that he said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Another way to say the same thing is like this: “Rabbi, you can do what I can’t.” Do you know how hard it is for some people to say something like that? Do you know how hard it is for a grown man to say something like that? Do you know how hard it is for a working mother trying to juggle raising kids and a career to admit to the world how impossible her life feels? It’s hard for every person who is like Nicodemus. It’s hard for all of us who are supposed to know where we are going to stop and ask for directions. It’s hard for all of us who are used to helping people to ask for a little help for ourselves. When you think you’re the one who’s supposed to know everything, you think you can’t be seen asking too many questions. There’s a great Jerry Clower story that Nicodemus kind of reminds me of. It’s called The Chauffeur and the Professor. Now, brother Clower can tell it better than I ever could. I encourage you to listen to his version as soon as possible. The just of the story is that a genius level professor has been going around the nation making an incredible speech with the same chauffeur listening the whole time. The chauffeur tells him that he’s memorized the professor’s speech and can probably make that speech better than the Great PhD ever could, even though he hasn’t graduated from the great school of minds, he’s an unlettered chauffeur but he’s sure he can make that speech. The Professor, wanting to put this too big for his britches chauffeur back in his place agrees to let him try. They swap clothes on the way to the next venue, so before this huge university audience is the chauffeur wearing the professor’s clothes and the professor is in the back wearing the chauffeur’s clothes. Brother Clower goes on to say that the chauffeur made that speech. In fact, in Clower’s words, “he forever shelled down the corn. He shelled the corn all the way to the cobb.” Translation: he made the speech really well. The crowd, so amazed, throwed their books on the floor, screamed in jubilation, gave him a standing ovation. Once they had been calmed down, the university president invited the crowd, if they would like, to ask any questions. Now, that meant trouble. The chauffer had the speech memorized, but hadn’t thought about the Q and A. A very intelligent young man lifted his hand, asked the most detailed question you’ve ever heard. Something about carbon dating, stratospheres, and the layers of the earth’s crust. The chauffer dressed up like a professor listened to the question. You would imagine that he was sweating, but he kept his cool, took off his glasses like this and said, “Young man, as long as I’ve been giving this speech throughout North America’s most prestigious universities, that’s about the simplest question I’ve ever heard. I’m surprised this university let in someone who would ask a question that simple. In fact, it’s so simple, I’ll just ask my chauffeur to stand up here and answer it.” Now this story is funny because the professor is wearing the chauffeur’s clothes, but the truth is, that to some degree or another, the professor always feels like a chauffeur in professor’s clothes. The truth is that, to some degree or another, the preacher always feels like a sinner in preacher’s clothes. The truth is that, to some degree or another, we all feel like imposters, fakers, travelers, just on the way to perfection, while the world seems to want us to have made it there already. Who among us is truly a self-made man? Who among us is self-sufficient? Who among us knows what we’re doing and has it all together? We point our fingers at entitlement in the world, while knowing that we all depend on so much help that just the idea that we’re doing fine on our own is a mirage. Knowing that he must keep such an image, such a mirage intact, Nicodemus goes to see Jesus at night. You know why. It’s because the world wants to put him up on a pedestal that he would love to come down from. It’s because the act that he’s keeping up is wearing him down, but he can’t get off the hamster wheel. It’s because he needs help but is afraid to ask for it, and so he goes to see the savior at night, and this is what the savior says: “You have to be born again.” Nicodemus asks, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” What’s going on here is Nicodemus is resisting the idea of starting over. He’s resisting the thought of being as helpless as a newborn. Having made it this far, how can I begin again? Having built up so much respect, how could I bow before this Jesus from Galilee in need? It’s as though he’s asking, “I’ve built up a life for myself, and you want me to give it away?” The answer is yes. We see it again and again. The rich young ruler must walk away from the life he has to gain eternal life. Later in John’s Gospel Jesus will say, “Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” What does all that mean? It means that if you’re so afraid of losing what you have that you won’t admit that you need some help, you’re going to lose it anyway. It means, that if you’re so consumed with appearing perfect to this world that you won’t ever show vulnerability, than your dirty laundry will expose you sooner or later. It means that people like Nikodemus, people like us, may as well risk being a little more real than we have been, because that’s the only way we’re ever going to get right. In our really strange Old Testament Lesson with all the snakes, we heard how people were hiding in the shadows with their snake bites, but in order to be healed, they had to come out into the light of day, revealing their wounds. Doesn’t that sound like a good word for us today? We who present to the world a polished image that says, “We’re doing just fine,” though really we’re drowning in debt, our kids drive us crazy, and we sure could use some help. Guess what: we’re never going to get any until we’re willing to cry out for it. We’re never going to be saved until we admit that we need to be saved. We’ll never be able to be found until we admit that we’re lost. We are covered up in shadow, so step into the light. Step into the light instead. In the light there is no condemnation, but only healing. In Christ is life and not death. Show him your wounds and find healing. Confess to him your sins and receive forgiveness. Kneel before the savior of the world and live. Amen.