March 10, 2024
Rev. Mary Erickson
Hope Lutheran Church
John 3:14-21
The Darkness before Dawn
Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.
Today is the first day of Daylight Savings Time. Early this morning we sprang forward by one hour. That led to it being noticeably darker when my alarm went off this morning. But this evening, the sun will linger, something we’ll all enjoy. It’ll remain darker in the mornings for a few more weeks until the tilt of our planet and its rotation around the sun stretch our daylight hours.
But for now, it’s darker in the mornings. Our gospel story today takes place in the wee morning hours between Nicodemus and Jesus.
There are nocturnal animals who spend their active hours in the night, but that doesn’t come naturally for we humans. If we’re up at night, something’s going on.
• Maybe we have a job that requires us to work at night. I’ve never had to work a night shift, but my husband has. And no matter how long you do it, it doesn’t feel natural.
• Sometimes people do things in the night so as to conceal their actions. I can remember when I was in seminary, I had just gone to bed on a summer evening. The window was open, and I heard some noises outside. When I peered out the window, I saw three neighborhood hoodlums darting between one shadowy patch to another. They ended up at the bike rack by our apartment building, trying to purloin some bikes. I shouted at them and when they knew someone was watching, they scurried away. They came at night and lurked in the shadows to conceal their actions.
• It’s also hard to get around when it’s dark. Streets look different in the middle of the night than they do in daylight. The familiar landmarks are lost in the darkness. The shadowy landscape leaves us uncertain.
• And then when you do encounter a bright light, it’s quite blinding. Oncoming headlights blare and eclipse everything around them.
We’re just not built for the nighttime and the darkness.
Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a very religious person. He tries to walk a holy pathway aligned with God. He finds himself attracted to Jesus’ ministries, like a moth to a streetlight. He wants to meet Jesus, but he wants to hide his interest. So he visits Jesus under the cover of darkness. In the middle of the night, he comes face to face with the light of the world, and he’s simply blinded.
Jesus engages Nicodemus in a theological discussion. First, he tells him that he needs to be born anew. Nicodemus just can’t understand this.
We tune in today when Jesus mentions an instance that happened to the Israelites as they traveled through the wilderness. The people began to complain for the umpteenth time. They wish they’d never left Egypt. God punishes their lack of faith by sending poisonous snakes into their camp.
When they repent, God instructs Moses to make an image of a serpent out of bronze and lift it high on a pole for all to see. Whenever anyone was bitten by a snake, they’d look at the bronze serpent and be healed.
So the means of their salvation looks like the means of their judgement. God works restoration and healing through an object that looks like the very thing that poisoned them.
Jesus tells Nicodemus that God is about to do something very similar. God is going to transform a moment of judgement into one of salvation. The cross, a vehicle of judgement and condemnation, will become the means by which God brings salvation to the world. Jesus will be lifted up on his cross and become the object of our salvation.
God will turn it upside-down. An action that was meant to condemn will be used to save. God’s intention is to save, not to condemn. That’s because the heart of God, what is the motivating engine behind all that God does, is love. God loves, and love wants to save. Love doesn’t wish the worst for the beloved. Love wants the best. Love desires blessing, not curse.
And so God is about to take this means of scorn and condemnation, and transform it into the vehicle for the salvation of the world. Jesus will be lifted up on his cross, just as the bronze serpent was years ago. And all who look up and gaze at him will be redeemed. Death will be turned into life. Sorrow will change into joy.
Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the middle of the night. Under the cover of darkness, he comes to see the Light of the World. What he beholds is too blinding for his nocturnal eyes.
We’re very much like Nicodemus, you and I. We spend our whole lives trying to come into the light, seeking the light. We try to make sense of the fullness of Jesus’ healing light, but the brilliance of his salvation is too much for us to fully comprehend. We’re unable to grasp the true depth and breadth of Christ’s healing light.
Like Nicodemus, in this life we will remain somewhere between the darkness of night and the greying of dawn. For now, we only capable of seeing dimly.
But when we depart this life, then we shall step into the dawning of Christ’s great light. It will be the light that emanated from Christ’s tomb on that first Easter, the light no darkness can overcome. And then we shall, at last, see face to face. We’ll know in full, just as we have been fully known by the divine.
But now, for we who dwell in deep darkness, this light of love is something that we can’t fully comprehend. Our brother, Nicodemus, came at night, and when he left it was still night. So long as we’re in this world, the same is true for us.
But what we have now is the sign that’s been given to us. We look up and see Jesus lifted on the cross. This is the sign of healing given to us. It’s the sign – not of condemnation – but of salvation. We gaze upon this sign of grace given: our savior, lifted high above us. Through this sign we see the full length and breadth and depth of the divine, restorative love that embraces our benighted world. Do we understand it? No, not fully, not even by half. But we lift our eyes, and we behold.
