Finding Jesus in the Dark

John 3:1-17; Psalm 121

Lent 2

Psalm 121

¹ I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come?

² My help comes from the Lord , who made heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber.

⁴ He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.

⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.

⁸ The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.

John 3:1-17

{1} Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews.

² He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “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.”

³ Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”

⁴ 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?”

⁵ Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. ⁶ What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. ⁷ Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ ⁸ 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.”

⁹ Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” ¹⁰ Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

¹¹ “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. ¹² If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? ¹³ No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. ¹⁴ And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, ¹⁵ that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

¹⁶ “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.

¹⁷ “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.”

The Sermon

I brought to my task 100 pounds of myrrh and aloes, things you use for a proper burial.

I met Joseph of Arimathea, who had collected the body from Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor who had handed Jesus over to his death. We met with a silent handshake, and began to prepare the body.

It seemed so unnecessary, so exasperatingly inappropriate, that we would be dressing this young man for burial. And I could remember the night I first met him like it was last week.

I couldn’t be seen going to talk to him. If I wanted to see him, to ask him all the questions I had, I had to go under the cover of darkness. So I went out at night to find him.

Have you ever been out when everything is shrouded in darkness; and you’d rather be indoors, but you absolutely have to be out there, because there’s something you need?

Some people, who would otherwise be tucked away safe at home, are out late at night because they have to go get the baby’s prescription.

Some are out with a few lousy bucks they’ve stolen from somebody they thought they loved, and they know where to take it to turn it into a fix of whatever drug it is they’re hooked on, or whatever it is they use as a drug.

And some are just out there because there’s nowhere else to go.

I was keeping watch at a homeless shelter one night with another guy from my church. They had a rule at the shelter that no one could come in after 10:00 at night; and once you were in, if you went out, that was it—they wouldn’t let you back inside.

It was damp that evening, and after we’d opened the doors and the people had all come in, and everyone had found their way to a mat for the night, a downpour started that continued into the small hours. Around 2:30 in the morning, with sheets of rain coming down outside, one of the homeless men rose quietly, gathered his handful of possessions together, put on his parka, and casually walked out.

I’ll never forget the sound of my partner’s quiet voice as we watched him disappear into the night: “Now where is that guy going? Where on earth is he going?”

And from the doorway we watched him disappear into the rainy night.

For some of us in our cozy homes, behind firmly locked doors, it’s kind of unsettling to think about being out there in the small hours, out there in the darkness; and we give thanks to God that we have a roof over our head and sturdy walls to keep us safe and warm.

But even in broad daylight, many of us are stumbling around in darkness, unable to see or know exactly where we’re going.

And even if we’re not stumbling, we are at least trying to make our way by torchlight, searching, wandering up and down streets of philosophy, theology, faith, belief, doubt, fear, loneliness. We make our way with fading flashlights, or one headlight out.

I had gone out to find him because I sensed something about this man that made me think that a new light had found its way into the world, whether by its own plan, or luck, or God’s will.

The reason I couldn’t be seen going to meet with him was that I was a leader of the Pharisees. I know you have been raised to think of us as blind, incompetent, and lacking the most basic element of common sense. But that image is wrong.

It was our business to maintain the holy tradition, and to call into question—with the most acute reasoning, the most dedicated faithfulness, the most painstaking adherence to God’s own orthodoxy—anyone who would dare to say that he or she was the One whom Israel had been waiting for, much less claiming to be the Son of Almighty God.

So don’t mistake me or any Pharisee for some bumbling reactionary. We knew what we were supposed to know, and we defended and glorified the holy name of God in the ways that we had been instructed, by the finest minds of our time.

But when this man came into our world and our lives, I felt like there was something else about him that all of our knowledge and learning had not prepared us for. I heard that he had called his disciples just by calling them, and they followed—no explanation, no logical statement; in fact, no statement at all. They just followed.

And despite my position, I had to admit to myself—and could only admit to myself—that I wondered if I was feeling the same way they did.

By the time I went to him, I wasn’t sure if it was the dark of night or my own darkness that made it hard for me to find my way. Between the endless frustrations of wondering whether I am the person I was supposed to be, and the daily distractions that keep me from being who I mean to be, I felt like I was stumbling around in an unfamiliar apartment, flailing to try to find a lampstand or a light switch or a window to open.

When I found him, it almost seemed like he knew I was coming all along.

I said, “Look, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, because no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”

He said, “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”

I said, “Excuse me?”

He said, “Don’t be astonished that I said, ‘You must be born from above.’ 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.”

I said, “How can these things be?”

And he said, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

He told me that the Son of Man would be lifted up, so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. “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.

He said, “I’m not here to condemn you.” He said, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

And so for everyone who comes in their own darkness, in the hope of finding just one ray of light for hope to hang onto, I offer, for your consideration, Frederick Buechner’s questions for Lent, which by popular demand have been raised in our church during every Lent since at least the year 2001.

“When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
“If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
“Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
“Is there any person in the world or any cause, that if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
“If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?”

And Buechner says, “To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.” [1]

My friend and I watched a man without a home walk out into the rain in the dark of night. And I heard my friend whisper to no one in particular, “Where is that guy going?”

May you find what you are looking for, and may your darkness be filled with God’s light.

Keith Grogg

Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church

Carolina Beach, NC

February 17, 2008

[1] Buechner, Wishful Thinking. HarperSanFrancisco, 1993.