Lent 2A

“Ask me what I know,” he told me, “don’t ask me what I believe.”

This was from a well-known bible scholar, who, in a moment personal honesty, confessed that what he knew intellectually after a lifetime of dissecting ancient texts, was different than what he believed personally.

It wasn’t that he believed the Christian faith to be false, or that what he learned from studying the bible all those years turned out to be a fabrication or a delusion. He had no malicious intent.

“Ask me what I know. Don’t ask me what I believe....Because,” he said, “I don’t know what I believe. I’m still searching.”

I appreciated his openness. It couldn’t have been easy for him to share his personal faith crisis with some young punk of a pastor who had more answers than there were questions.

Sharing his doubts was his way of saying that a lifetime of searching doesn’t necessarily mean a lifetime of finding.

Just ask Nicodemus.

Nicodemus spent his life in study and prayer. He knew the bible backwards and forwards and inside and out. He read the philosophical masters. He spent years absorbing the wisdom of the centuries. He understood profound truths.

But he couldn’t quite understand Jesus. His curiosity must have gotten the better of him because at the expense of his personal safety, he goes to great lengths to find out more about Jesus.

To find Jesus, Nicodemus has to slink around at night so no one will see him. He wants to learn something. He knows that Jesus has come from God, but also knows that Jesus’ divine origin is a little controversial in the halls of the learned. He just wants to get a handle on Jesus, and how Jesus can be from God. He just doesn’t want to get caught doing so.

But when he finds Jesus and unloads all of his questions, Jesus seems to be more interested in riddles than answers.

 “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born - again - from above.”

“What on earth does THAT mean?” he asks. “What am I supposed to do, climb back and in and make my way out again?”

Looks like Nicodemus is taking Jesus WAY too literally. But I encounter this all the time. When talking to a pastor A LOT of people revert back to their childhoods where they take the bible, and stuff preachers say, with childish simplicity.

For example, I was trying to explain to someone the difference between Catholic and Lutheran understandings of grace - of how we are forgiven by God. And I used an example of a broken window.

“Say you threw a ball and accidentally broke your neighbour’s window,” I said.

“What!? Is breaking a window a sin?” this person snapped. “Why would God punish me for accidentally damaging someone’s property? Would God actually send me to Hell for an accident? Doesn’t God have more important things to do than worrying about a broken window?”

*eye-rolling sigh*

Maybe Jesus had a little more patience with Nicodemus that than I had with that person who couldn’t get past their childish religious understanding. Despite all his years of school, and his skills in critical thinking, Nicodemus reverted back to a time when truth was literal and black-and-white. No imagery or metaphor. Imagination not needed. Creativity not required.

Jesus calls him on his lazy thinking, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

I think Jesus said this with a twinkle in his eye followed by a wink. Jesus wasn’t trying to shame Nicodemus. He was saying, “C’mon, Nick, you know better than that.”

Jesus doesn’t then spell out what he means. He doesn’t take the time to connect the dots for Nicodemus. Jesus gets even more metaphorical, and paints even weirder pictures. 

He talks about Moses and the serpent, heavenly truths and earthly facts colliding. He talks about the Son of Man - Humanity’s Child - being lifted up. He’s throwing all sorts of bible stories against the wall and seeing which one sticks.

Then he sums up this whole passage, and indeed, his entire message and mission, with these familiar words:

“God so loved the world he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

We don’t know whether or not Nicodemus was any closer to understanding Jesus than when he began. But my guess is that he was still had as many questions when he left as when he came in. If not more.

Nicodemus disappeared back into the darkness, but he never really disappeared from the story. We don’t hear from him again until chapter seven when he’s consulted about a fine point in the law, and again, after Jesus died, when he assisted Joseph of Aramethia in preparing Jesus’ body for burial. Nicodemus is not a major player in this story. But he’s a player nonetheless.

And he IS one of us, those of us who are asking questions and continue to ask questions, those of us searching for God in Jesus, wondering if anything good can come from Nazareth, those of us who are trying to put the puzzle of God together without knowing what the picture is supposed to look like.

I don’t know if Nicodemus really understood what Jesus was saying. But, I’m not sure that was the point. If Nicodemus came to faith it wasn’t because Jesus argued him into it. Jesus didn’t even try to reason with him or answer his questions. But it was through Jesus himself, an encounter with the God within him - that Nicodemus came to a deeper understanding of who Jesus was. And through Jesus, he saw the God who loved him.

He may not have fully understood who Jesus was, but then again, how much do any of us really know about him? For most of us Jesus is a mystery; a puzzle to piece together, a spiritual knot to unravel, a fuzzy picture we can’t quite bring into focus.

But what is more important than KNOWING Jesus, is to be KNOWN by Jesus. And that we can be sure of.

In the waters of baptism, where we have been born again from above, we are joined to his life, his death, and his resurrection. In baptism we are joined to his mission. In baptism we are received as citizens of God’s kingdom. In baptism, we are KNOWN by Jesus.

I don’t know about you, but, for me, this is a HUGE relief. It means that I’m freed from thinking I have to understand what God is all about before I can call myself a “Christian.” It means that I have enough faith in Jesus to follow him, because God has given me that faith. It means that, no matter how hard I try, I will never know Jesus well enough or fully understand his role in God’s saving story. But I know that I play a part in that story because God put me in that story.

This isn’t to say that we don’t keep exploring who God is and what God wants for us. Nicodemus certainly never put his feet up in comfort or threw up his hands in confused resignation. He still questioned. he still investigated, he still searched.

But he also lived his faith as part of the searching, following Jesus in his own way, playing his part in God’s saving story.

And so do YOU. You play your own part in God’s ongoing, unfolding, story, because God has put YOU in that story. God has inserted YOU into the ongoing saga that God is telling the world, where YOU play an important role. 

Not only by knowledge, or by stories and dogma, or by ideas and doctrines about God that you may or may not remember from Confirmation Class. 



But also by faith, by trust, by hope. You tell God’s story with your lives. Being not just a source of knowledge about God, but by being a blessing to people you meet.

And YOU also live YOUR faith as part of the searching, following Jesus in YOUR own way, playing YOUR part in God’s saving story.

And, together, as a church, we study and we pray. We discuss and we discern. We search and we proclaim. We live God’s story together. We follow Jesus as a family, believing that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

May this be so among us. Amen.

Epiphany 2A

It’s clear that we shouldn’t be looking to John the Baptist for advice on how to grow a church. He sends his best people over to another preacher, who looks surprised to see them.

“What are you looking for?” Jesus asks these strangers at his door. “What are you doing here? What do you want from me?” are questions that he was probably REALLY asking.

But he simply says, “What are you looking for?”

It’s a good question, though, isn’t it? Perhaps THE question. Especially for those who have a sense that God is up to something in their lives. 



Those who are looking for more from God than what they were told as children, those who who have a hunch that the universe is made up of more than that what the eyes see, the ears hear, and the fingers touch. 



Those who have a gaping God-sized hole dug deep within them that seems to get wider and more cavernous with each flip of the calendar.

“What are YOU looking for?”

That question could be directed at us here at worship. We come to worship looking for something, perhaps we can’t put that something into words. 

We come looking for God, or an experience of God. Where the majestic power of God washes over us, and we can see more possibility for our lives than when we walked in, and see the world with fresh eyes when we leave.



Or we come looking for community, to worship and fellowship with other believers, to know that we aren’t alone in our faith, but that there are others who can support and encourage us as we walk the Christian path together. 



Or we come looking for meaning in a seemingly meaningless world. Hope in a seemingly hope-less world. Good news in a bad news world.



Or we just come, not knowing what we’re looking for, but hoping to recognize it when we see it.

I’m sure it was the same with John’s disciples. There must have something about John’s fiery preaching that lit them up, and sent them running from their lives to follow him, feasting his every word, and soaking in his teaching. 
They probably didn’t understand much of what John was saying, but they knew what he preached was true. Truer than anything else they’d ever heard.

Which was why it must have been puzzling for them to find themselves knocking on the door of another preacher. There must be something more about this Jesus if John was sending them to him. And what’s this “Lamb of God” stuff about anyway? 

But if John wanted them to follow this other teacher, then follow him they must. After all, John pointed to God.

“What are you looking for?” the new teacher asks.

“Where are you staying?” they answer.

Where are you staying? That’s an odd reply, don’t you think? Why would they want to know that? What’s that got to do with what they’re looking for? Is where Jesus hangs his sandals a clue to what he was all about?

But the new rabbi doesn’t bat an eye. “Come and see” Jesus replies, and with that reply comes a fresh batch of recruits for his start-up religious movement.

Clearly, these new conscripts were impressed by what they saw and heard. “We have found messiah!” they announce to anyone within earshot. 
But did they know what they were talking about? That word, “Messiah,” meant a lot of things to a lot of people. And while that sounded like good news to them, some would be REALLY disappointed when they found out what that word really meant.

Many people were expecting royalty, someone to kick the Romans out of the holy land and bring in a kingdom like the one they had when David ruled that land. When other countries were afraid of them, when everyone had enough to eat, when arts and culture flourished, when God showed them the favour they believed was their divine birthright.

Others saw a religious reformer who would return God’s people to prayer and devotion, where worship was central to peoples’ lives, where the bible was read by everyone, and where people structured their lives around scripture.

And still others believed the messiah would rescue people from their earthly lives, blow up the planet, punish unbelievers and fry evil doers, and then lift the righteous into heaven.

It seems that not much has changed in 2000 years. That could be why the question “What are you looking for?” is filled with so much dynamite. We’re all looking for something. We’re all placing our hopes on Jesus even if those hopes have more to do with us than with God.

“What are you looking for?” is a question often rooted in selfish desires rather than a pursuit of something greater and truer than ourselves. 



I may be looking for God, but my motivates certainly aren’t pure. I want God to give me a great life without me having to do any heavy lifting. I want God to give me certainty rather than faith. I want God to bless everyone I love and curse those who cut me off in traffic. 



When I’m looking for God those are the desires hiding underneath my pursuit of the divine. And that’s why God isn’t terribly interested in giving me what I’m looking for.

What we’re looking for isn’t always what God wants to give us. Just look at what happened in the bible. The people wanted a King; God gave them a lamb. The people wanted their enemies destroyed; God gave them mercy. The people wanted a return to their glory days; God gave them forgiveness.

That’s why it’s hard to be a Christian who believes that God does something in our lives. It’s hard because we can’t control God. We can’t offer up our hopes and fears in prayer, and  - poof! - God answers in just the way we want.

All throughout the bible we see God ignoring the peoples’ cries then going and doing whatever God wants. But usually, God’s actions are more life-giving than what the people want.

So what are YOU looking for? 

Do you believe you will find it here, among God’s people, within the Word proclaimed and the sacraments received? 

Do you believe that, in this house of prayer and praise, together with other believers, gathered among the saints, you will encounter the living God revealed in Jesus? 

Do you arrive here, at this hour, trusting that God will meet you - in this moment - as you worship?

Your answer, I’m guessing is “Yes”....and...“No.” You look for God where God promises to be. And we do find God here. We receive God’s forgiveness and remember that we are indeed children of a living and loving God.

We hear the proclamation of God’s new world bursting into ours. On communion Sundays we receive God’s presence in the bread and the wine, believing that in the loaf and the cup, Jesus dwells within us, so we eat and we drink, and are satisfied. Within these walls, we pray with trust, and we sing with hope.

But then there are those moments when God can often seem like a ghost, a flicker in the corner of your eye, a slippery truth that you can’t quite grasp, a meal half eaten. 



When your questions don’t have any answers. When your tears are more real than God’s comfort. When the bread is stale. The wine is sour. The road is dark. When morning seems so far away.

That’s when John proclaims, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” It’s because of those things that keep us from God that Jesus came and lived among us. John didn’t proclaim his message to a confident crowd of the self-assured and fiercely faithful. 



But John gathered and sent a broken band of believers, still fresh from the battle, proudly baring the scars that life gave them, united only in their questions, and in their pursuit of God, not knowing where that quest might lead them, but daring to believe that the journey itself IS the destination.

So, when you hear “Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” know that you are in good company. Know that your questions give you faith. Know that your scars are your proclamation. Know that your losses are your announcement of compassion.

Know that if you feel like your faith is constantly shifting beneath your feet, that’s because faith is always moving, always looking around the next corner, always peering over the bordering horizon. 


For some, faith is like a cathedral, fixed in one place, immoveable, splendid in solemnity, majestically lighting up  the night, and towering over all who sit under its shadow.



But for most of you, most of the time, faith is more like staggering along a dark trail, and your flashlight’s batteries are drained. So you rely on a voice you can barely hear, guiding you to where you should step, not being able to see what’s ahead, but trusting that the one leading you has already been there and knows the way, and can safely bring you home.

It’s the voice that says, “Come and see” that is the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The messiah we have found, and the messiah who has found us. 



The messiah who called you by name, and set you on your path, with you not knowing where the road leads, but trusting that voice to guide you, step-by-step, when the darkness arrives, who lifts you when you stumble, and when your body grows weary and you fall asleep, carries you the rest of the way, and wakens you when you reach your final destination.

May this be so among us. Amen.