Nic at Night

John 3:1-17
There is something about the night I find frightening. If you know me very well that might seem hard to believe. I love darkness and I find the unknown to be incredibly stimulating. In the darkness I am much more aware of my surroundings. My vision becomes intensified and I am not just talking about my eyesight. At night, when things slow down, when there is time to do nothing but think, that which confused me at noon sometimes begins to make sense. And when things began to make sense, often that becomes an incredible reason to be afraid.

That is why I love TV. A brain is not required to watch television. I admit I am a Jeopardy freak which takes a bit of concentration but for the most part the shows I watch require some but not all of my attention. I can watch NCIS or Law and Order, flip back and forth to the ball games, have a conversation with my wife and still figure out the plot. If I wanted Shakespeare, I would retreat to bedroom room, shut the door, and open my mind completely to the Great Bard. But TV, that is pretty much a no brainer. Just how much focus does it take to watch ESPN or for that matter CNN. Besides, if I didn’t watch TV I would begin to think about whatever scripture I was working on for Sunday. Let me tell you, at night, when you study scripture away from all the routines and interruptions going on during the day, sometimes it begins to make sense. Trust me, when the Word of God begins to make sense, dangerous things are sure to follow.

A prime example of this was Nicodemus. If you are not familiar with the man let me review his credentials. He was a member of the Sanhedrin, a leader in the Jewish community. During the day he was a highly respected teacher of the Torah. But at night, when no one was around, and when the mind is open to discover that which seemed improbable during the day, Nicodemus would search out Jesus to ask deep theological questions concerning the kingdom of God. Why did Nicodemus visit at night? Perhaps he did not want his fellow church leaders to know he was seeking out the guidance of the controversial rabbi from Galilee. Or perhaps it was something more. In the daylight, in the midst of making sure the books are balanced, the holidays observed, and the dietary and social laws obeyed, the words of Jesus must have sounded like utter nonsense. But at night, when things slowed down and Nicodemus took time to examine his soul, I suspect he discovered a huge, empty void.

How often do you take the time to look deeply into your soul and careful reflect on how you stack up to the words that Jesus has so freely offered to us? There were not many people in Jerusalem who had a better reputation than Nicodemus. He was an honest man who grappled with honest questions. Like us he was concerned about his children. He worried about the economy, crime in the street and the general welfare of the status quo. He was a very religious person who attended the Synagogue faithfully. And yet something seemed to be missing. He wondered why God had placed Jesus in the midst of his life. He wondered why his colleagues treated Jesus as an adversary. During the day, when he was in the midst of all the rituals of being a good religious person Nicodemus probably didn’t think much about Jesus. But at night, when he listened to his heart, Nicodemus knew something was terribly wrong. Perhaps that is why he sought out Jesus. This one man looked beyond cultural expectations and routine matters to speak words of hope and radical transformations.

Sometimes it is so easy to forget our primary job as members of the church of Jesus Christ. It makes sense to worry about the budget, the physical plant, the programs for our children, the fellowship opportunities, the music and a lot of other really important things. I hear folks asking why churches continue to decline in membership? Some folks want to know why the church seems to be out of touch with people under 30? Others raise questions about involvement with social issues? All are those are great questions that take up a lot of my daylight hours. But at night, when it is OK to dare to step a bit out of the box, I sometimes dare to think the greatest danger to Christianity today is our desire to be religious. I suspect that wasn’t in your top ten list. What on earth could be wrong with appearing religious? Being religious brings to mind such expressions as pious, devout and Godly. Certainly nothing wrong with that. But being “religious” can also refer to a system of beliefs, practices and ethical values which spend too much time on appearances rather than transformations.

Nicodemus belonged to one of the most religious groups known to humankind. During the life of Jesus, Jerusalem housed one of the finest schools in the Roman Empire. There the Torah was taught, memorized and practiced. The Sabbath was holy and faithfully observed. Prayer was not just allowed in school, it was required. The Ten Commandments adorned the walls of every government building. In each home hung a plaque which read “Hear O Israel, Blessed is our God.” How much more religious can you get? Yet here was Nicodemus, faithful in his attendance, faithful in his prayers, faithful in his giving, faithful in his religious duties and yet, late at night, he felt so spiritually empty.

How many of you can understand Nicodemus? How often have you thought if you do everything correctly, your reward here on earth will be great. You attend church, you say and do all the right things, you have everyone fooled into believing that your faith is central in your life, but the problem is you can’t fool yourself. Is there something missing? You look around and notice that as far as power and possessions go, attending church doesn’t seem to matter all that much. You have discovered in this life it rains on the just and the unjust. That doesn’t seem fair but that is just the way it is. Nicodemus lived a good religious life. But he knew there must be more than just doing everything the right way. He was smart, he worked hard, and he put in the necessary hours. Nicodemus, a rational, intellectual man looked at his life and realized something was missing. In the darkness, he wept over his loneliness; in the darkness he confronted his emptiness; in the darkness he sought the light; in the darkness he finally had the courage to say, “Jesus, I can no longer live my life without you.”

In perhaps the most important chapter in the book of John, Jesus said to Nicodemus, and to every one of us, “You are not supposed to live life alone. God loves you so much you, God has sent me as a sacrifice in order that you will have abundant life.”

John 3:16, those words that we learned as children are far too complex for me to fully comprehend. Why must Jesus die in order that I might live? Why can’t I live a life worthy and acceptable to God? How is the sacrifice of one sufficient for us all? When I ask those questions in the light of day, I can come up with a basket full of theological explanations that satisfy my brain ….. but not my heart. But then at night, with the TV off, and no distractions to interfere with the mysterious wonders of God’s handiwork, I am completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of God’s mercy. God ordained the sacrifice of a loved one on behalf of a prodigal and ungrateful world. What kind of sense does that make? I have no logical answer for God’s grace. And yet, fully aware of by my own weakness, I give thanks. For in the darkness, I embrace grace, the antidote for my sin sick soul.