Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "Visitors from Another World?"

Text: John 3:1-17

Little did Nicodemus know,

when he went that night to speak with Jesus,

that the questions he raised and the answer he got

would still be haunting Jesus’ followers

twenty centuries later!

We are still asking,

"How do I become a disciple of Jesus?"

and one of the answers that still comes back is,

"You must be born from above,"

or, as we hear it more often,

"You must be born again," or,

"You must be born anew."

However we hear it, our response is generally something like,

"Well, that’s very nice,

but what in heaven’s name does it mean?"

We’re pretty sure Jesus doesn’t mean it

in any purely literal sense …

we can’t actually be physically reborn,

anew, or again, or from above …

not that most of us would want to!

But that leaves us with an important question unanswered:

what does it mean, to be born from above?

What processes are involved;

what kind of results should we expect to see?

There are some Christian folks,

and we’ve probably all met at least one,

who believe that the only way to be born again, to be born from above,

is to have a major, earth-shattering,

life-changing, conversion experience.

They certainly have a compelling example

in the apostle Paul,

and his shattering conversion on the road to Damascus.

Did you know, for example,

that in this country’s early history,

the Puritans required that you experience such a conversion

before you could become a church member.

Now the law said that everyone had to go to church …

unless you were sick, you couldn’t stay home;

you had to be there

but only those who had experienced

a definite and powerful moment of conversion

could actually become church members,

and thus, could receive communion.

And not only did you have to have the experience,

but once you had had it and decided that you wanted to join the church,

you had to stand up in front of all those who were already members,

and describe your "experience of grace," which is what they called it,

and answer questions about it,

and then it was up to the church members

to decide whether your conversion was genuine,

based on what you had told them,

and whether they were going to admit you into membership.

There are many people throughout the church’s history

have had such dramatic changes of life:

Paul … St. Augustine … Martin Luther … lots of others …

perhaps some of you as well.

I’m convinced that those spectacular conversions are genuine;

they are a real way of being "born from above";

they are a real way of becoming a follower of Jesus.

But I’m equally convinced that they aren’t the only way.

Jesus never details for Nicodemus

exactly what he means by being "born from above."

And we don’t help his case

when we try to put words into his mouth!

Jesus never once said,

"Unless you have a one-time, major, spectacular conversion experience

you cannot see the kingdom of God."

And he could hardly have believed that,

seeing as how it seems that

none of the original twelve disciples had such an experience.

For them,

that process of being born anew, born from above,

seems to have been slower and more gradual,

with, frankly, some backsliding along the way.

It was a time of journeying together,

of learning, of growing in their understanding.

And for many of us, I think,

our following of Jesus may be much more like theirs

than it is like Paul’s.

Maybe you could say,

we’re born again, a little bit at a time.

Or, that we undergo lots of little conversions

instead of one great big one.

I believe very strongly that this, too,

is a valid way of coming to be a follower of Jesus Christ.

And so, what’s really important

is not so much about how one gets "born from above,"

as it is,

how one acts once it has happened.

It seems to me that the first, and maybe even the most important,

element of being born anew,

is that growing recognition on our part

that we are first and foremost children of God,

not of this world.

Or as the apostle Paul describes it,

we are in this world, but we are not of it.

And it doesn’t matter whether

this realization comes all at once

in a blinding flash of insight,

or whether we gradually grow into it over time,

and backslide like the disciples did …

What does matter

is that we understand,

or at least, we begin to understand,

that as born-anew people,

our ultimate loyalty is to God, our parent who is in heaven,

and not to anyone or anything here in this world.

We are in this world,

which God did create and God did call good …

but we are of the kingdom of God.

And in a sense,

we are like visitors from another world.

I suspect most of you,

have seen enough of "Star Trek" and/or "Star Wars"

either on your own, or with children or grandchildren,

to have some idea of how we imagine it would be

to meet people from another planet, or from another galaxy.

The difficulty we would have in communicating with one another …

"universal translator," don’t we wish!

The contrast between cultures …

what’s acceptable in one culture that’s forbidden in another.

The ease of misunderstanding …

the differences over what is and isn’t acceptable behavior.

And all the sticky situations

that result from not being from the same world!

And sometimes,

trying to be a Christian in this world, I think,

can be every bit as challenging as we imagine

being an "Earthling" in another galaxy!

We seem sometimes to be speaking a different language …

Oh, the words are the same,

but they mean something different.

When we use the word "faith,"

we think of a whole way of life

and of looking at life, informed by God …

When the world hears "faith,"

they often understand it as

"foolish belief in something that isn’t true."

We use the word "peace"

to include justice and love and humility and fairness,

and equality or equity for all people.

The world uses "peace" to mean

"thank goodness, there are no bullets heading in my direction today."

We could go on, and probably make a long list …

we mean different things when we say

"love," "justice," "humility";

we picture something different when we talk about "God."

And so we often end up talking past one another,

because we think we’re using the same words,

they sound exactly alike,

but we’ve attached entirely different meanings to them.

And it’s not always easy

to behave like a Christian in the world.

We have to keep a foot in both camps,

one foot in the world, one foot in the kingdom of God …

and yet sometimes, trying to do that

feels like trying to straddle the Grand Canyon!

We don’t have the option of

retreating entirely into the kingdom of God,

at least, not this side of the pearly gates!

So it’s tempting, since we can’t do that,

to give in and to re-join the world entirely.

It must be easier to do that

than to be stretched in both directions at once!

But we must be born from above, born anew.

We are, in a sense,

born into both worlds.

Or perhaps, born into one,

baptized into the other …

And, as uncomfortable as it sometimes is,

we have to live in both.

We have loyalties in both;

we have made commitments in both.

And we also have the unenviable task

of trying to bring the two together.

Here’s an illustration

that the Holy Spirit sent to my mailbox not long ago…

it’s amazing how the Holy Spirit can even use the postal service, isn’t it?

It’s from a journal that I subscribe to:

"Several years ago,

a group of seekers gathered at Pendle Hill,

a Quaker community and study center,

to explore the relationship between spirituality and ministry.

At the opening session,

participants were given hunks of clay

and invited to fashion their image of the spiritual life.

One young man unaccountably found a frog with wide open mouth

shaping itself in his hands.

Surprised, he asked the frog,

‘What do you want to say to me?’

The frog replied,

‘Like me, you must learn to live in two worlds.’"

Now compared to us, the frog has it easy …

balancing land and water.

We must be born from above,

into another world entirely.

And yet remain in this one.

It doesn’t matter how that happens in your life.

It only matters that it happens.

And Lent, being a reflective time,

is a good time for us to work on that.

This is one of those annoying sermons that has no conclusion:

I can’t tell you how to do it for yourself,

how to work it in your own life.

You and God have to discover that together.

So, good luck …

and God’s blessings.

Amen.

© 2005 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)