March 8, 2020
John 3:1-17
Maybe it’s obvious… Maybe it’s just expected, but I want you to know, I’ve thought a lot about baptism the past couple of weeks. I’ve especially thought about the process Emma Grace went through to reach this point today where she publicly, stood before you at the beginning of our worship service and boldly and proudly made a statement. A statement about who she is and whose she is. I felt so fortunate to be chosen to read her written statement because I know writing it took a lot of strength. Strength I’ve always known she has, but she needed to yet again claim for herself. The thing is, I would love to know more about her process, and maybe that is part of my problem, always thinking there is more depth to explore, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing – desiring to explore each layer of this multi-layer thing we call life and faith. As you heard from her written statement getting to this day has not been easy for Emma Grace and from what I’ve witnessed first-hand as her Dad, that fact has been hard on her. From my perspective none of it has come easy to her. She seemed to have so many questions and any answers she received from me, her mom, or other well-meaning adults who are supposed to have answers, only seemed to create more questions for her.
As most of you here today know, we in the Baptist tradition celebrate “Believers Baptism”. This means that instead of baptizing newborn babies, we wait. We wait for that newborn to grow up. We wait for that child to learn about faith and what it means to be a follower of The Way. And then we wait for that person, now armed with those lessons, to make a public statement, a public profession if you will, that they too want to become followers of that Way.
Like every other aspect of life, the journey of Believers Baptism is unique to each individual, and in a world where so many of us compare ourselves to others, anything landing in the unique realm, is hard to process. I thought Emma Grace put it beautifully in written faith statement, when she wrote about her desire for that “moment”. I remember when she would share this desire with her mother and I, we would ask her to further explain what she meant, but she couldn’t. And while I’m fairly certain our approach didn’t necessarily help her, further explain what is unexplainable, she kept at it. She never shied away from her journey, and this was hard, especially as others, close in age, appeared to be finding answers more easily and quicker than her. There is a bit of irony in all of this, but from what I’ve witnessed making that public profession seems to get harder as you get older.
For some reason when it comes to faith and religious beliefs, we tend to reach a point where questions are not viewed as being good and positive, or helpful. I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish questions were viewed as the highest compliment any of us could give to this journey we call faith. If we could find the strength needed to celebrate questions, no matter what the question is, or the intelligence level the questioner assigns to their question, I strongly believe we would make the journey a little easier for everyone. At a minimum, celebrating the questions would no longer make those definitive answers the only thing worth celebrating and if we could find more things to celebrate then we would allow more people to attend the party. Instead, we tend to diminish the importance of the questions and even though we might not think we are, when we diminish the questions, we diminish the questioner, which always limits their efforts to ask questions in the future. The thing is, for those of us prone to ask questions, that skill (yes I believe it is a skill) of questioning never really stops, so when we are made to feel like it is not publicly valued, when look to find safe spaces where we can still ask them, because if we don’t find that safe space we begin to lose part of our identity.
************************[1]
Which brings me to Nicodemus and the story Kevin Connolly read for us a few minutes ago. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, had questions, but for reasons we can only speculate, didn’t feel comfortable asking those questions in the light of day. Didn’t feel comfortable asking those questions while others were around. Nicodemus had questions about faith. Questions about the Kingdom of God. Questions about Jesus.
So, in the dead of night, surely guided by the dim light being offered by fire, cloaked in darkness, he journeys toward Jesus. Maybe Nicodemus, a religious leader of that day, needs this cover of darkness to feel safe. No matter what, we are told, he came seeking Jesus and once he finds him, he looks around, making sure no one else is watching, no one else can see him, and only then does he begin the conversation. “Rabbi” he says, “we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…”
It’s important for us to remember that Nicodemus had so much to lose in coming to Jesus: his standing in the community, his authority as a leader, his relationships with friends and neighbors. All of this social capital lost in an instant, if only one other person discovered what he was doing. Yet, there he is to ask real and honest questions of this man he called Rabbi. The funny thing is, Jesus, at first, appears to dodge his questions by offering some convoluted, highly intellectual screed about being born again. And this makes sense because Jesus hasn’t had the best encounters with the scribes and the Pharisees and temple priests. They have loved probing Jesus putting him on the spot – waiting for him to fall to their pressure. For all Jesus knows in that first moment that is exactly what Nicodemus is trying to do. Test Jesus to the point of succumbing to the pressure. Jesus knows the Pharisees as a group are suspicious of him and his teachings and Jesus knows Nicodemus is a member of that group.
So, when Jesus answers vaguely about being born from above, Nicodemus continues. And then Jesus goes on about being born of water and spirit, about the wind blowing where is chooses. This, though, only prompts more questions - “How can these things be?” he asks. This doesn’t make any sense to me right now. How can this be?
As Rev. Erik Parker says, “Nicodemus and his questions are not unfamiliar to us. They are not the wonderings of children, nor the questions of someone new to faith. Nicodemus has old questions, questions that come from a lifetime of sitting in the pew and weeks upon weeks, months upon months, years upon years of hearing the bible stories. Nicodemus knows the doctrine and theology. Nicodemus doesn’t need religion explained to him.
Nicodemus needs the answers for his doubts. He wants to know if all of this is real and what it all means. He wants to know if Jesus is the real thing. [He wants to know if] the things [he] has believed about God are really true?
Our Nicodemus moments come from the same place. They are questions we are too afraid to ask in the light, the doubts we are afraid to share in public, the feelings of being silly for believing in a God that the world often laughs at.”
These Nicodemus moments are the moments where we ask deep, hard, even difficult questions about faith. These moments are essential. They help us grow. They set the stage for new beginnings and they always begin with questions.
Nicodemus moments are something we cannot avoid. We should as people of faith have questions. Maybe some or all of us have doubts and fears that we only dare ask in the darkness. But Nicodemus moments are also the moments when we learn something else about faith – We learn, just like Nicodemus learned, that we are never alone. You see, Jesus didn’t abandon Nicodemus that night in the dark. He didn’t dismiss him and his questions. He could have I suspect, but he didn’t. After that third question, “How can any of this be?” Jesus turned toward Nicodemus. There must have been some sort of change in Nicodemus’ voice with that third question. Maybe it was then that Jesus understood Nicodemus was being sincere. No matter the reason, Jesus changed course and turned toward Nicodemus and assured him that his way was an extension of Moses and that God’s love for all of God’s creation was unmatched, even if at times it is confusing.
********************
I am so proud of Emma Grace. Her strength never ceases to amaze me. It’s an inner strength that even she seems to forget she has at times. Then we have moments like today where she stands before a crowd, makes a public declaration about who she is and whose she is, while also admitting that she still has questions. And thanks be to God for those like her.
[PRAYER]
Amen!
[1] Parker, Rev. Erik, https://millennialpastor.net/2017/03/12/questions-in-the-dark-our-nicodemus-moment/#comments
John 3:1-17
Maybe it’s obvious… Maybe it’s just expected, but I want you to know, I’ve thought a lot about baptism the past couple of weeks. I’ve especially thought about the process Emma Grace went through to reach this point today where she publicly, stood before you at the beginning of our worship service and boldly and proudly made a statement. A statement about who she is and whose she is. I felt so fortunate to be chosen to read her written statement because I know writing it took a lot of strength. Strength I’ve always known she has, but she needed to yet again claim for herself. The thing is, I would love to know more about her process, and maybe that is part of my problem, always thinking there is more depth to explore, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing – desiring to explore each layer of this multi-layer thing we call life and faith. As you heard from her written statement getting to this day has not been easy for Emma Grace and from what I’ve witnessed first-hand as her Dad, that fact has been hard on her. From my perspective none of it has come easy to her. She seemed to have so many questions and any answers she received from me, her mom, or other well-meaning adults who are supposed to have answers, only seemed to create more questions for her.
As most of you here today know, we in the Baptist tradition celebrate “Believers Baptism”. This means that instead of baptizing newborn babies, we wait. We wait for that newborn to grow up. We wait for that child to learn about faith and what it means to be a follower of The Way. And then we wait for that person, now armed with those lessons, to make a public statement, a public profession if you will, that they too want to become followers of that Way.
Like every other aspect of life, the journey of Believers Baptism is unique to each individual, and in a world where so many of us compare ourselves to others, anything landing in the unique realm, is hard to process. I thought Emma Grace put it beautifully in written faith statement, when she wrote about her desire for that “moment”. I remember when she would share this desire with her mother and I, we would ask her to further explain what she meant, but she couldn’t. And while I’m fairly certain our approach didn’t necessarily help her, further explain what is unexplainable, she kept at it. She never shied away from her journey, and this was hard, especially as others, close in age, appeared to be finding answers more easily and quicker than her. There is a bit of irony in all of this, but from what I’ve witnessed making that public profession seems to get harder as you get older.
For some reason when it comes to faith and religious beliefs, we tend to reach a point where questions are not viewed as being good and positive, or helpful. I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish questions were viewed as the highest compliment any of us could give to this journey we call faith. If we could find the strength needed to celebrate questions, no matter what the question is, or the intelligence level the questioner assigns to their question, I strongly believe we would make the journey a little easier for everyone. At a minimum, celebrating the questions would no longer make those definitive answers the only thing worth celebrating and if we could find more things to celebrate then we would allow more people to attend the party. Instead, we tend to diminish the importance of the questions and even though we might not think we are, when we diminish the questions, we diminish the questioner, which always limits their efforts to ask questions in the future. The thing is, for those of us prone to ask questions, that skill (yes I believe it is a skill) of questioning never really stops, so when we are made to feel like it is not publicly valued, when look to find safe spaces where we can still ask them, because if we don’t find that safe space we begin to lose part of our identity.
************************[1]
Which brings me to Nicodemus and the story Kevin Connolly read for us a few minutes ago. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, had questions, but for reasons we can only speculate, didn’t feel comfortable asking those questions in the light of day. Didn’t feel comfortable asking those questions while others were around. Nicodemus had questions about faith. Questions about the Kingdom of God. Questions about Jesus.
So, in the dead of night, surely guided by the dim light being offered by fire, cloaked in darkness, he journeys toward Jesus. Maybe Nicodemus, a religious leader of that day, needs this cover of darkness to feel safe. No matter what, we are told, he came seeking Jesus and once he finds him, he looks around, making sure no one else is watching, no one else can see him, and only then does he begin the conversation. “Rabbi” he says, “we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…”
It’s important for us to remember that Nicodemus had so much to lose in coming to Jesus: his standing in the community, his authority as a leader, his relationships with friends and neighbors. All of this social capital lost in an instant, if only one other person discovered what he was doing. Yet, there he is to ask real and honest questions of this man he called Rabbi. The funny thing is, Jesus, at first, appears to dodge his questions by offering some convoluted, highly intellectual screed about being born again. And this makes sense because Jesus hasn’t had the best encounters with the scribes and the Pharisees and temple priests. They have loved probing Jesus putting him on the spot – waiting for him to fall to their pressure. For all Jesus knows in that first moment that is exactly what Nicodemus is trying to do. Test Jesus to the point of succumbing to the pressure. Jesus knows the Pharisees as a group are suspicious of him and his teachings and Jesus knows Nicodemus is a member of that group.
So, when Jesus answers vaguely about being born from above, Nicodemus continues. And then Jesus goes on about being born of water and spirit, about the wind blowing where is chooses. This, though, only prompts more questions - “How can these things be?” he asks. This doesn’t make any sense to me right now. How can this be?
As Rev. Erik Parker says, “Nicodemus and his questions are not unfamiliar to us. They are not the wonderings of children, nor the questions of someone new to faith. Nicodemus has old questions, questions that come from a lifetime of sitting in the pew and weeks upon weeks, months upon months, years upon years of hearing the bible stories. Nicodemus knows the doctrine and theology. Nicodemus doesn’t need religion explained to him.
Nicodemus needs the answers for his doubts. He wants to know if all of this is real and what it all means. He wants to know if Jesus is the real thing. [He wants to know if] the things [he] has believed about God are really true?
Our Nicodemus moments come from the same place. They are questions we are too afraid to ask in the light, the doubts we are afraid to share in public, the feelings of being silly for believing in a God that the world often laughs at.”
These Nicodemus moments are the moments where we ask deep, hard, even difficult questions about faith. These moments are essential. They help us grow. They set the stage for new beginnings and they always begin with questions.
Nicodemus moments are something we cannot avoid. We should as people of faith have questions. Maybe some or all of us have doubts and fears that we only dare ask in the darkness. But Nicodemus moments are also the moments when we learn something else about faith – We learn, just like Nicodemus learned, that we are never alone. You see, Jesus didn’t abandon Nicodemus that night in the dark. He didn’t dismiss him and his questions. He could have I suspect, but he didn’t. After that third question, “How can any of this be?” Jesus turned toward Nicodemus. There must have been some sort of change in Nicodemus’ voice with that third question. Maybe it was then that Jesus understood Nicodemus was being sincere. No matter the reason, Jesus changed course and turned toward Nicodemus and assured him that his way was an extension of Moses and that God’s love for all of God’s creation was unmatched, even if at times it is confusing.
********************
I am so proud of Emma Grace. Her strength never ceases to amaze me. It’s an inner strength that even she seems to forget she has at times. Then we have moments like today where she stands before a crowd, makes a public declaration about who she is and whose she is, while also admitting that she still has questions. And thanks be to God for those like her.
[PRAYER]
Amen!
[1] Parker, Rev. Erik, https://millennialpastor.net/2017/03/12/questions-in-the-dark-our-nicodemus-moment/#comments
