Merely to Remind Myself John 3:1-17

After I lost my sight for the first time, my mom bought me a number of record albums of musicals. You might remember albums, they were those 12 inch diameter vinyl discs. You put them on a thing called a record player, and then you had to take the needle arm and place it on the record album. I know, it was primitive, but that was the way we did things in those days.

One of the albums was the Hans Christian Andersen musical with Danny Kaye, and one of the songs I liked the best was a song that Hans Christian Andersen sings while he is walking down the road one day. Here are the words as I remember them:

“I write myself a note each day, and I put it in my hat./ The wind comes by, the hat blows high, but that’s not the end of that./ For ‘round and ‘round the world it goes./ It lands here right behind myself./ I pick it up, and I read the note/ which is merely to remind myself/ I’m Hans Christian Anderson.”

There are times in our lives when we need to be reminded of who and whose we are. Today’s text is one of those reminders. In the midst of the darkness of our world, as we long to see the light of truth, as we wander through the testings of our lives, we need to know who and whose we are and what value we have.

In the searching, we discover that who we are has little to do with what we do, but everything to do with whose we are and what God is doing for us each and every day. We need to be reminded that it is not what we do, it is what God has done and is doing today.

How many times have we seen the signs at sporting events that say 3:16? The first time I saw one of those signs, I thought, “Wow! What a great testimony.” And then I saw it more and more. I even heard it announced on the radio stations that broadcasted the games.

In an interview after one of the games, one reporter asked a sign bearer what it meant to them? The woman’s response made me cringe. She said something like, “It means so much to me that God loves the world this much and unless people believe in God’s love, they will all be damned.” This woman had found the perfect way to makes God’s amazing gift of love and caring into a club to beat people with. This is because we have all learned this verse and carry it with us in so many ways, but we have forgotten the verse that goes along with it: “God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” Not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

In these few words, we are reminded that we are not the ones who save people. It is Jesus who saves—Jesus, the only son of God, in the communion of the Holy Spirit. We can assure one another of the forgiveness of our sins, but it is God who does the forgiving. On Sunday mornings, when we confess our sins and I make the declaration of forgiveness, it is not me that is forgiving you. It is God who forgives you; I am only the vehicle of transmission.

Yes, we claim that we have sinned in thought, word and deed; by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We have declared before God and one another that, by ourselves, we are hopeless sinners, and so we turn to God, justified by Christ’s death and resurrection, for that forgiveness and hope that we need for the future. Through the work of the Holy Spirit, we receive what we need.

Now any Christian can hear the confession of another Christian and assure them of God’s love and forgiveness absolving them of their sins, but, in our public worship, it is the privilege of the pastor to give that public assurance. So it is that I can say, “In the mercy of almighty God, Jesus Christ was given to die for us, and for his sake, God forgives our sins. As a called and ordained minister of the Church of Christ and by Christ’s authority—by Christ’s authority—, I declare to you the forgiveness of all of your sins.” And when that declaration is made, I seal you in God’s love, not in my name, but in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

It isn’t me, it is the continuing work of Christ in the Holy Spirit that continues to forgive and hold us in that right relationship with God and one another. Indeed, “God so loves the world that God gave his only son, that whoever believes in him, shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

This everlasting life is something that is given to us in Baptism. In those waters, with God’s Word, through the work of the Holy Spirit, we die and are raised up into new life. We hear those words that Jesus commanded his disciples to do at the end of Matthew, “Go into all nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” Baptize them into that new relationship of love and caring.

So it is that we come today to witness Nicodemus coming to Jesus in the night, in the darkness of his world, in that most creative time of God--the night—remembering that in the darkness God creates the light; in the darkness of night God speaks all of the cosmos into being, that in the darkness of the world, even we were brought into being and invited to share in the benefits of creation; and, in the darkness of the night and our world, Christ’s light of hope continues to shine. This light shines in a way that does not condemn the world but lights the way forward in hope and forgiveness in and through the work of Christ.

I write myself a note each day, and I put it in my hat. The wind of the Spirit comes by, the hat blows high, but that is not the end of that. For ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round the world, the Spirit blows, and it drops my hat behind myself. I pick it up, and I read the note, which is merely to remind myself that I am Peter Todd Heide, a child of God, baptized in the waters of Baptism, and claimed by God.

As the serpent is lifted up in the wilderness so the Son of Man will be lifted up that all the world will see and know of God’s desire for the healing wholeness that only comes from Godself.

May you always walk in the assurance of God’s love for you.

Light, in the Darkness, Shines John 1:1-14

During this Advent season, we have been talking about time. We have talked about discerning God’s time of coming, the wilderness times of our lives and the assurance of God’s presence, times of transition in new community in Christ’s healing presence, and time to love and to know God’s justice in the world. Today our time of waiting is over. It is now time to begin the conversation of how God has come to dwell among us and what that means for us in this time and place.

Many scholars think that the opening words in John shift our sense of time. No longer do we think of the day beginning in darkness, at sunset, as our first covenant Jewish ancestors did. Rather as Christians, we think of creation and our days as beginning with light. The gift of light is so great that we now order our lives with the event of sunrise.

Yes, all the Gospels push us in this direction. The Easter tomb is discovered by the women in that very early time of day when the dawn is just occurring thereby shifting Christian Sabbath from sunset Friday night through Saturday to sunrise Sunday morning and the rest of that day. Yet, with this focus on light, we lost something of God’s activity in our lives. In the Genesis account of creation, God’s work is done in the darkness of night, and then it is revealed in the light of day. The emphasis of time starting with light alters our thoughts about God’s activity in our lives and our relationship to creation.

This new way of thinking—that the day begins with the light and ends with the darkness—allows humanity to think that the gift of dominion means that we are the primary workers in the world. The world should bend to our will. This new way of thinking pushes the consideration of God’s activity in the world from being the initiating creator to being the janitorial service. God, like our parents when we are little, will come behind us and pick up the mess we make.

This thought of light being the most essential thing has dominated our thoughts on the Gospel of John so much that it has even influenced our translation of the text. Today in the NRSV we read, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (1:5) As life and light have already been connected in the verses before, so now, the light shines into the darkness revealing the subversive machinations of an already corrupt world that has the potential of overpowering the light.

Though this understanding of creation can appeal to us today, it really appealed to Christians of the late first century. When the Church was under persecution, when Christians were being imprisoned for their faith, when Christians were being used as entertainment in the coliseum as cat food for leopards and lions, the world certainly appeared to be a particularly depraved and evil place. If good was going to come out of it, goodness would need to be injected into it. God’s goodness would need to come from outside creation to effect change. Right?

This way of thinking, that the world and all of creation was totally corrupt, was so popular and widespread among early Christianity that early Christian leaders gathered together to say that this is not how God works. God does not work from outside the world as a master puppeteer manipulating the strings of creation. Since the beginning, God always has and always will work within God’s established relationship with creation. God works through vulnerability not strength. God works in the midst of the poor, the disabled, and the disenfranchised, not the wealthy and the powerful. God does not show up like some Superman character who is “faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound.” We do not raise our eyes to the heavens saying, “Look! It’s a bird, it’s a plane! No, it’s SuperChrist!” No, God does not work like Superman or any other super hero.

A careful reading in Greek of John 1:5 shows that our desire to have God work from the outside in has influenced how we translate this verse. The Greek does not say “The light shines in the darkness”. It literally says, “And the light, in the darkness, shines, and the darkness has not overcome it.” As long as the light shines, darkness, the absence of light, has no power. And it is in this place of darkness, of powerlessness, that God continues to create.

Through birth to Mary, God, in Christ, enters our lives. From a place of the absence of light, the darkness, God’s life-light shines out as a beacon to the world. From the darkness of the womb, a child is born. In the darkness of the world, a son is given who is the light and hope of all people. From the darkness of the tomb, new life begins, a wonderful counsellor, mighty Lord, prince of peace. Thus, we come to understand that our being and the being of all creation is life that proceeds from darkness with the Word of God; that the Word of God is revealed to us in the person of Jesus Christ; and that his life is the light of the world.

As light is the first thing created from the universal darkness of Genesis, so in John’s Gospel, light is created amid the darkness of the world. This light is not to expose the evil so much as it is to reveal the goodness of God’s work—the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. With John, we come to be a witness to that light and hope.

We, ourselves, are not the light, but we can bear witness to the light that is coming to the world, not from outside the world, but from within; not as the ultimate goodness conquering our evil, but as the illumined work of God’s handiwork. We can bear witness not just of a place in the future kingdom of God but of a place to live, in light and hope, here and now. This here and now place is not of our own will and making. It is not the will and making of governments. It is the foundational will of God that we should live in a just and peaceful world.

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” (v. 14) This simple English translation of “lived” does not quite capture the more complex Greek idea of “tented”, nor does it help us remember that God’s presence among God’s people was first recognized in the tent of the tabernacle in the wilderness. It does not help us imagine the wilderness times of our lives when we travel with God and how God travels with us. It does not really help us understand that God’s love for us and creation is so great that God comes into the midst of our communities to share in all of the problems of the world. Indeed “the Word became flesh and tented among us.” Christ does not come only to the privileged cities and wealthy neighborhoods. He comes to live among us with alcoholics, drug abusers, arthritics, the injured and the blind; knowing our joys and our sorrows, continuing to show us the light of hope to come.

We have seen his glory, and that glory continues to challenge and perplex us, to guide and lead us, teach and model God’s love for us and the world, full of grace and truth. With this grace and truth, we gain the persistence we need to continue telling our story of life through dying and rising in Baptism and receiving our sacred food of forgiveness and reconciliation with God. We continue to proclaim God’s word of grace-filled love and care for the world: God’s message of hope for the world.

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messengers who announce peace, who bring good news, who announce salvation, who say to all the people: “God reigns; listen, lift up your voices and sing with joy for the world; the Lord is come; let earth receive her king!”