Darkness and Light

He thought he could define Jesus, put him into a pigeonhole and label him; in a sense he wanted to control something about Jesus, and of course that is not going to work.

We always want to fit new things into old patterns that we know and understand, but it won't work with Jesus; he is a completely different entity than we have encountered before.

You and I cannot exert control over God.

Prayer is conversation with God, where we are to do twice as much listening as talking, but we tend to turn it into a do-for-me list that we present to God.

We have our lists of accomplishments, which we take as proof of our worth to God.

We know better since we are good Lutherans who know about justification by grace through faith, but we keep score in our prayers anyway.

All this is a way of saying that sin (separation from God and from each other) keeps nipping at our heels and trying to drag us down.

Things may seem much more like darkness in and around us than they do light.

That is because any light we make is pale, feeble, and easily blown out.

It is the comparison of a guttering candle-stub with the sun.

So here we are, standing around grousing about things with Nicodemus, and what does Jesus do?

He could rightfully ignore us all and leave us to stumble around in the dark.

But instead he engages us in conversation through Word and sermon, in the washing of Baptism and the meal of Holy Communion, and in the mutual life of the community of the church, (what Luther calls the “mutual consolation of the brethren.”)

Do we suddenly understand everything, like a cartoon character with a light-bulb appearing above his head? No.

Are we suddenly at ease with everyone and everything? Of course not.

But we are assured that the outcome of the whole struggle is positive.

We get a few glimpses of who Jesus is, and where all of this creation is heading.

We have permission to ask all sorts of questions.

(Of course, how Jesus chooses to answer may not be what we expect or desire.)

But even more, as we discerned last Sunday, we have the opportunity simply to enjoy being with Jesus.

Give thanks that we have the sort of God who actually wants to be with us, who condescends to speak with us, who intends to share the truth about it all with us...even if we can't fully comprehend the whole of that truth, even as we cannot define this God.

Christians are not those who have it all figured out, who have no further questions.

Jesus is the illusive and sovereign God who makes sense out of us, rather than us making sense out of him.

The hint of this is in the illustrations that Jesus uses with Nicodemus: wind and birth.

These are two of the least controllable events in our experience, and yet we appreciate their effects.

A week ago Friday afternoon at 4:45 the phone rang, and I groaned gently.

That is the time of day when folks call who need assistance of some sort and no one else is still in an office or an institution to help.

But this phone call was different; it was not about money.

It was a person from another town who opened the phone book and started calling until she got someone to answer and talk with her...and I was that person.

She had Nicodemus-type questions about the meaning of her life, how she might identify and name the powers of evil near her, where creation is headed, and what Jesus has to do with all of this.

I answered what I could, leaving much to the mystery of God, and reassuring her that this is OK.

God will let us in on more when he's ready to share and we are able to receive.

We closed with a prayer for a peaceful night and renewed strength for the challenges of tomorrow.

With tears and with relief in her voice, she said Amen, and I went home to rest for another day.

It is what we are doing here together today, with more formal language and in a different setting.

We engage in this conversation with Jesus, wherein he reveals just a bit of himself to us, as much as we can handle, and reassures us that he is ultimately in charge, in ways we cannot fully comprehend.

And then we go home to rest and get ready for the next challenge. That's life!

It was dark for Nicodemus that night, and Jesus became light for him.

We know that it changed him, because John reports that Nicodemus brought things needed to help with Jesus' burial on Good Friday.

And it changes things for us as well.

In faithful thanks for the gift of Christ's light, we say Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.