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4th Snuday in Lent                                     John 3:14-21                                    March 11,2018

Let us pray…Almighty God, by the power of the Holy Spirit, open your Word and illumine our darkened world, that we may see clearly and live faithfully by the light of your truth in Jesus Christ. Amen

Like many of you I suspect, John 3:16 was the first Bible verse I memorized as a child in Sunday school.  In Confirmation, I learned that it’s essentially Christianity 101 — a perfect summary of Scripture’s saving message.  Over the years, I’ve seen the verse displayed on billboards, t-shirts, coffee mugs, and cross-stitch samplers.  Martin Luther called it “the heart of the Bible, the Gospel in miniature.” And so it is.  In just twenty-seven words, the famous verse from St. John’s Gospel describes a loving God, a cherished world, a self-giving Son, a universal invitation, a deliverance from death, and a promise of eternal life.  Christianity in a nutshell. 

So what’s the problem? Not the verse itself, I would argue, but what we so often do with it.  In our well-intentioned efforts to make the Gospel message simple and accessible, we Christians sometimes try to reduce salvation to a formula, to a lowest common denominator sound bite, a tweet if you will. The problem arises when we forget that when Jesus originally spoke the words of John 3:16 to Nicodemus — a Pharisee, a member of the Sanhedrin, and likely one of the more knowledgeable men of his day — his listener found Jesus’ words incomprehensible.  If Jesus really intended to “save” Nicodemus by pithy soundbite that night, he failed.  What the seeker experienced was not salvation; it was bewilderment.

Keeping this in mind, I wonder what this over-simplified approach to John 3:16 leaves out.  What does it prevent us from seeing about the Christian life?  Do we lean so heavily on the second half of the verse — the importance of individual belief — that we minimize the stunning truth of the first — that God loves and longs for all of creation?  Do we treat the verse as a litmus test, using it not to communicate God’s all-encompassing compassion and mercy, but to threaten unbelievers with God’s judgment?  Sometimes it sounds that way, as a threat if you will. Do we allow our interpretation of the verse to flatten and distort the meaning of “belief,” reducing its nuance and complexity to mere intellectual assent? 

What does it mean, after all, to say, “I believe in Jesus?” Growing up, it seemed as though within the circle of some my Christian friends, they were taught that being a Christian means affirming the right things and being certain of these right things.

To accept Jesus into their hearts, to be "born again," was to agree to a set of doctrines about who Jesus is and what he accomplished through his death and resurrection. 

Sound familiar?

To enter into orthodox faith was to believe that certain theological statements about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the human condition, the Bible, and the Church, were true.  When they spoke of “growing in the faith,” what they seemed to mean was that they were honing their doctrinal commitments.  To be a mature Christian was to have one's theological ducks in a row.

On the surface, some of this sounds reasonable, but it just sounded a bit off from what I had heard growing up and listening to my Dad’s sermons and my Confirmation classes.

As a kid and as a young adult I sensed that this Christian faith stuff was serious business.  As a teenager and college student I could not help but see how messy all this church stuff could be. I watched congregations split up over the legitimacy of infant baptism over "believer's" baptism.  I knew Christians who considered speaking in tongues a litmus test for faith.  I heard pastors fight over whether the Communion table should be open (available to all) or closed (reserved for baptized members of a particular faith community). In later years when the fictional Left Behind book series came out I heard others argue over the most nitpicky details concerning the “end times.”  Would God take his children to heaven before the “great tribulation?”  Or would they have to hang around and endure the birth pains of a new kingdom?

It's tempting to laugh, but for the people involved, none of these differences were funny or peripheral; they cut to the heart of what it means to be Christian.  And Jesus wept! It is no wonder so many have left the church behind and moved on. It is no wonder atheists and agnostics are prone to snicker when yet another church has a meltdown over some seemingly silly argument.

I fear that the same is true when I speak glibly of John 3:16 as “Christianity in a nutshell.”  “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.”  It sounds so gorgeously precise, so deceptively simple.  But does all of Christianity really come down to my accepting certain propositions about Jesus to be factual?  To be true?  Is that really it? For me, this way of believing — this way of defining faith as an intellectual assent to precisely codified doctrines — has fallen apart.  Not because I can't assent, but because my assenting, in and of itself, hasn’t fostered anything close to the meaningful relationship I desire to have with God.  If anything, my intellectual assent has functioned as a smokescreen.  A distraction.   A substitute.

In her 2013 book, Christianity after Religion, historian Diana Butler Bass points out that the English word "believe" comes from the German "belieben" — the German word for love.  To believe is not to hold an opinion.  To believe is to treasure.  To hold something beloved.  To give my heart over to it without reservation.  To believe in something is to invest it with my love.

This is true in the ancient languages of the Bible as well.  When the writers of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament wrote of faithfulness, they were not writing about an intellectual surrender to a factual truth.  They were writing about fidelity, trust, and confidence.  As they saw it, to believe in God was to place their full confidence in him.  To throw their whole hearts, minds, bodies, and dare I say it, their wallets-- into his hands.

The fact is, I can't think of any significant human relationships in which doctrine matters more than love and trust.  So why should my relationship with God be any different?  When I ask my wife, my children, or my friends to believe in me, I am not asking them to believe certain facts about me.  I'm not saying: "Affirm without question that I’m 5'11”, have thinning brown hair and pasty white skin, and live in Minnesota.”  Rather, I am saying, "Dare to hang on.  Dare to believe that I won’t let you go.  Trust me with your heart.  Trust me with your love, your faith, and your vulnerability.  Allow yourself to treasure me as I have come to treasure you.” Conversely, when one of my human relationships falls apart, the breakdown is never merely intellectual.  What breaks between me and the other person isn't facts; what breaks is vulnerability, intimacy, and fidelity.  What breaks is the deep, abiding trust that makes love and safety possible.

What does it mean to believe in Jesus?  To hold onto him?  To trust him with my life?  For Nicodemus, it meant starting anew, letting go of all he thought he understood about the life of faith.  It meant being “born again,” becoming a newborn, vulnerable, hungry, and ready to receive reality in a brand new way.  It meant coming out of the darkness and risking the light.  None of this could be reduced to an altar call or a litmus test.  The work of trusting Jesus was mind-bending, soul-altering work — it was hard, and it took time it took grit, tenacity, perseverance, or as the Finns say, it takes “Sisu”. And despite the candy-coating that some are prone to present-- it involved setbacks, challenges, and disappointments.  Believing in Jesus is not for the weak of heart, sissies—if it was, everyone one would tell you they believed in Jesus and actually trusted Jesus!

No wonder Nicodemus walked away baffled that first night.  Jesus was calling him to so much more than a rote recitation of the sinner’s prayer; he was calling him to fall in love, and stay in love.  

Why is belief important to God?  Because love is.  To believe is to be-love. Or, as Pastor Bauer from Trinity mentioned at our Communion service at the Elim Home on Thursday, consider the “other John 3:16” as found in First John: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.

Love, Christian love is more than nice words, it is hard work, it is a life work, it is sacrificial work, it is what separates a mediocre life from a truly abundant life.

Christianity in a nutshell” sounds catchy, but in the end, I don’t think it exists.  John 3:16 is a beautiful passage of scripture, and we are right to recite it, memorize it, and cherish it.  But no love as rich, demanding, costly, and free as God’s love for us can ever be reduced to a formula.


[Gratitude to Debbie Thomas, Journey with Jesus, for inspiration]

Pastor Stephen Blenkush

Zion Lutheran Church
Milaca MN 56353

Love like Jesus!

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