Late-night questions (a sermon on John 3:1-17)

It was late, and the streets were dark. Nicodemus peeked around the corner before hurrying, head down, to the house where he had heard that Jesus was staying. Nicodemus wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jesus. Murmurs about his actions had reached the Jewish religious leaders - these signs Jesus was doing were things that could only be done through the presence and power of God. But, how? Why this man? How could these things be? The questions - so many questions! - had swirled through Nicodemus’ mind, keeping him awake long after he laid in bed. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to give voice to these questions. He wasn’t sure what his fellow Pharisees would think of him - after all, he was supposed to be an expert, the one with all the answers, and he wasn’t ready to expose himself to ridicule or censure. And so, under cover of darkness, Nicodemus brought his questions to Jesus. 

We, too, have questions that keep us up at night. We, too, have questions that seem too big, too vulnerable to share in just any setting. Perhaps we offer up these questions to Google, but the sheer volume of supposed answers can be overwhelming to wade through, to say nothing of its accuracy. And while I would hope that church would be a place you might feel comfortable bringing your questions about faith and life, all too often this is presented as a place for answers and certainty rather than questions and doubts.

Photo by Lan Gao on Unsplash

As Nicodemus knocks, perhaps tentatively, on the door to the house where Jesus is staying, he and his questions are welcomed in and given an audience. In response to his hunger to understand who Jesus is and how these things could be, Jesus describes to Nicodemus how seeing the kingdom of God requires a different kind of understanding, even a new way of being. He describes the unpredictable, un-pin-down-able movement of the Spirit. He points Nicodemus to examples of God’s saving action found in the scriptures with which Nicodemus, as a religious leader, would have had deep familiarity.

We don’t know how this conversation concludes, but I imagine that Nicodemus heads home in the wee hours of the morning with even more questions to ponder. Hopefully, though, he also heard about God’s deep and abiding love for all creation - a love that is self-giving; a love that does not depend on our belief or understanding; a love that does not condemn or shy away from questions.

I hope that we, too, have encounters like this one, where we find others with whom we can share our wonderings, whether in the light of day or deep into the night. I hope our wrestling and wondering leads us to recognize that God is big enough to handle our questions and our doubts. I hope that we continue to grow in our ability to sit with the gray areas of life, rather than always demanding certainty. And I hope that your own big questions about God are answered first and foremost with the reminder of God's deep and abiding love for all creation - a love most clearly shown to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

We hear about Nicodemus twice more in John’s Gospel. In chapter seven, he tentatively defends Jesus, encouraging the other Pharisees who want Jesus arrested not to condemn him without a fair hearing. And then, in chapter nineteen, it is Nicodemus who joins Joseph of Arimathea in lugging pounds of ointment and spices to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body for burial.

Though we don’t have much detail about what happens to Nicodemus after this initial encounter, what I see in these two other glimpses of him is the slow path of change. Despite the unanswered questions and the sense of astonishment and confusion he holds about who Jesus is and what he was called to do, this nighttime conversation seemed to be the beginning of something, not the end. I am reminded of a river slowly carving a path through a canyon, or the measured and steady assembly of a building, pieces fitting together over time to form the whole. So often it is the gradual gathering of information and experiences that can change the trajectory of our personal beliefs on any number of issues. 

It's never just one conversation, but many, which change our hearts and minds. The real work comes not through quick sound bites, but rather in ongoing relationships and conversations. How valuable it is to have the safety and freedom of a space to ask questions and be confused! How critical it is to have the chance to turn things over in our minds and try them on for size.

I wonder how often we allow this kind of space for growth and movement. Do we expect immediate results, immediate beliefs, either from ourselves or others? Or do we trust the unpredictable movement of the Spirit? Are questions viewed as threats? Or as pathways to something full of possibility?

Those late-night, lots-of-questions-but-no-answers conversations matter. In them, relationships are formed and seeds are planted. Sometimes, it is enough for us to hear how deeply God loves the whole cosmos, how deeply God loves us, even if we can’t quite grasp how that may be so.

But even when we are left with more questions than answers, we give thanks for a Spirit that blows where she chooses. We rejoice that God always comes to us, and that salvation is not found in how strongly or confidently we believe, but in the lengths God goes to show us God’s love. God continues to work in us and through us as we piece together an understanding of who God is and what God’s love is like, and for this we give thanks.