New Eyes For The (Spiritually) Needy
Sermon
Tears Of Sadness, Tears Of Gladness
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter
Perhaps you have heard of an organization called "New Eyes for the Needy." Their mission is simple yet incredibly important. They collect old eyeglasses from people who can no longer use them, and they give them to people who need them, but can't afford to buy a new pair for themselves. "New Eyes for the Needy" - it's not only their name but describes their mission as well.
The scripture from the third chapter of the Gospel of John might well be called "New Eyes for the (Spiritually) Needy," but before we get to those new eyes, we need to understand the setting. The scripture describes a conversation between Jesus and a Jewish religious leader named Nicodemus. Nicodemus comes to talk about spiritual things and Jesus looks him straight in the eye and says, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" (John 3:3), or born again as those words are sometimes translated. "Born again?" asks Nicodemus. "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?"
The Gospel writer tells us that Nicodemus came to Jesus by night. And if that night suggests not only the absence of daylight but also a sort of spiritual darkness then that just about says it all. For if there is one thing for sure, it is that we mainline Protestants struggle with this idea of being born again or born from above. If I had a dollar for every church member who asked, "Do I really need to be born again?" I'd be able to retire early!
Why does this idea about being born again leave us in the dark much of the time? Undoubtedly, part of the reason is because we mainline Protestants don't talk about it very much. We don't speak of it in our worship; we don't discuss it in small group Bible studies; we have not made it a regular part of our religious vocabulary. And we have good reason not to dwell on it - the New Testament itself does not dwell on it. Do you know that the phrase "born from above" or "born again" occurs just two times in the entire New Testament and both of them are in this passage? It's hardly a New Testament--wide emphasis, is it? However, you'd never know that by talking with conservative evangelical Christians. They talk constantly about being born again. How do you reply when one of your conservative friends asks, "Have you been born again? When did it happen?" How do you feel when someone like Billy Graham the famous evangelist says on television, "No matter what your church tells you, religious ritual is not enough. It's great to be baptized; it's great to be confirmed; it's great to be a participating member of a church, but that is not enough. You must be born again"?
Like Nicodemus, we just don't get it. Like Nicodemus, we remain in the dark unable to see. And like Nicodemus, we get bogged down by biology rather than thrilled by theology. "Can I enter a second time into my mother's womb and be born?" he asks. Of course not, Jesus seems to say. We're not talking about the physical world here, but about the spiritual world, a world that is much more subtle and mysterious. It is, says Jesus, a lot like the wind. "The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit" (John 3:8).
People who travel to the islands of the Caribbean will tell you that the winds there blow basically from the same direction all year long. The trade winds blow all the way across the Atlantic from Africa until they reach the Caribbean. As a result, the islands are affected by winds from the East which are as predictable as the daily rising of the sun. By way of contrast, the winds on the Chesapeake Bay where I sail are much less predictable. One day they will blow down from the North, another day from the Southwest. On still another day, a sea breeze off the Atlantic will fill in from the Southeast. As a result, you never know what to expect.
The wind of the Spirit is more like the wind on the Chesapeake: subtle, mysterious, always changing, rarely the same two days in a row. It is this wind - the wind of the Spirit - which can blow into your life and mine in ways that are so subtle that you hardly notice until one day you open your eyes and begin to see things differently.
Here, for example, is a middle--aged man devoted entirely to his career. He has poured his whole life into his work. He has succeeded greatly in life and has much to show for it: a beautiful home, a couple of late model cars in the garage, a cabin in the mountains, a membership at the country club. But one day he wakes up, looks around, and realizes that all is not well. His wife who was once his best friend and most trusted confidant seems distant and uncaring. He feels like a stranger to his own children. His job title - senior vice president - which he once wore with pride like a battle ribbon on a soldier's uniform, no longer means what it once did. And then, ever so gradually he begins to change. He reaches out to his wife the way he had when they were young lovers with all of life's hopes and dreams stretching out in front of them. He rebuilds bridges with his children. He begins to laugh again, to enjoy life, to give away some of his time and energy. Those who know him wonder what's come over him. They ask him about it, but he himself is not even sure. But we know, don't we! The Spirit which is like the wind has been blowing gently, nudging him to begin to look at life in a whole new way. It is almost as if he has been born all over again.
Or here's a woman sitting in church one Sunday morning. All her life she's been told how bad she is: "You're no good. You're a failure. You're a flop. You'll never amount to anything." Not surprisingly, all these critical words have become a self--fulfilling prophecy, and she has lived her life drowning in a sea of self--doubt. But on this particular Sunday the minister says something that grabs hold of her and won't let go. Preaching about the story of creation and humanity's fall from grace, the minister points out that before there was original sin there was something like original goodness or original glory. After creating man and woman, says the minister, God said that it was good. What the minister says is not a lot, especially for someone who all her life has been told how bad she is. But it's just enough to open this woman's eyes and help her look at life and God and most especially herself in an entirely new way. Can you see what's happened? She's in the process of being born from above.
Here's a young man sitting in a high school classroom. It's career day at his former school, and he was invited back to speak to the students about his line of work. After the speech, he sits in on several of the classes. In one class, the students are studying American poetry. Under his breath he mutters, "I hated this stuff back when I went to school here. It's no different now. What a waste of time." But on this particular day the students are reading from Edwin Arlington Robinson's "Richard Cory," a poem about a fashionable and popular man, the toast of the town, who nevertheless goes home one hot summer night and puts a bullet through his head. Suddenly, the young man says to himself, "My God, I know people like Richard Cory!" And for the first time in his life the profound truths of good literature speak to him and send him off on a quest - a quest that continues to this day - to reread all of the books and poems he muddled through when he was a student. Can you see what's happening to him? He is experiencing something of a personal renaissance and discovering for the first time in his life a yearning for learning. It seems that the Spirit which is like the wind has been gently blowing him in directions he never would have chosen on his own.
Here's a Sunday school teacher, faithfully doing her duty, preparing her lessons each week, teaching the children Sunday after Sunday. Most of the time she finds the assignments to be dull and boring. But this week the curriculum calls for a field trip. The children are studying the words of Jesus where he says, "Love God and love your neighbor as yourself," and so they pay a visit to the local shelter where they help out by serving a meal to the homeless people. As the homeless poor file by in their Salvation Army clothes, carrying all of their worldly possessions in brown paper grocery bags, the teacher considers her own clothes - the latest in designer fashions - and the closet full of things she never wears, and suddenly something comes over her. Her eyes fill with tears of compassion and for the first time in her life she sees these poor homeless people, not as nameless, faceless blights in an otherwise beautiful community but as real people with real problems and concerns. Although she doesn't realize it at the time, slowly but surely she is being converted to the cause of the poor as she begins to volunteer an evening a week at the shelter.
What do all of these stories have in common? They all describe the changes that came over people who allowed the fresh winds of God to blow them in directions they might not have chosen for themselves. They all describe people who were given the chance to start over, people who were given a second chance or maybe a third or a fourth. It was, you see, as if they were born all over again.
But please notice where the initiative lies - not with the individuals themselves as if they could be born again by their own efforts. Is there any one of us who came into this world by our own efforts? Of course not! You have your mother to thank for that, as well as doctors and nurses and others. All you can do is look back with gratitude and then live your life in a way that honors those who gave you the gift of birth in the first place.
To be born from above is much the same. You can't make it happen on your own. No, it is much too mysterious for that - it's like the wind. Rather, it is God, who like a divine midwife gives you this gift, this chance to start all over again. Sometimes the change comes over you gradually; sometimes it can come dramatically and suddenly. But one way or another the change comes.
Most often we make this business of being born from above much too complicated. For me, it is not unlike receiving a new pair of eyes. For part of your life you have looked at the world in one way. But then, one day you begin to realize that you're looking at things differently, no longer through your own eyes but through the eyes of faith. In one of his books, the Dutch Roman Catholic priest Henri Nouwen says: "This is the great call to conversion: to look [at the world] not with the eyes of my own low self--esteem, but with the eyes of God's love."1 What we're talking about is new eyes - new eyes for the spiritually needy. Or as Jesus puts it to Nicodemus, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" (John 3:3).
It would be tempting to stop right here. After all, we have been talking about being born from above, and we have considered that idea from a number of perspectives. But the passage from John won't let us stop just yet, because, frankly, being born from above is not meant to be an end in itself. To say that you have been born again but then fail to involve this "new you" in the world around you is to miss the point. As seminary professor Leonard Sweet has written: "Conversion without immersion in the life [and mission] of Jesus Christ is a perversion of the gospel."2
How fascinating that a passage of scripture, which begins with a one--on--one conversation about being born from above, should conclude with what is perhaps the most beautiful statement about God's world--wide mission found anywhere in the Bible:
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
- John 3:16--17
To see the world like that - as deeply loved by God and in the process of being saved - is to join forces with Christ in this great work of redemption. For most of us, that will mean looking at the world with new eyes. For as Jesus reminds us, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above."
____________
1. Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Return Of The Prodigal Son (New York: Doubleday Publishing Group, 1992), p. 99.
2. Leonard Sweet, A Cup Of Coffee At The Soul Caf (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1998), p. 155.
The scripture from the third chapter of the Gospel of John might well be called "New Eyes for the (Spiritually) Needy," but before we get to those new eyes, we need to understand the setting. The scripture describes a conversation between Jesus and a Jewish religious leader named Nicodemus. Nicodemus comes to talk about spiritual things and Jesus looks him straight in the eye and says, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" (John 3:3), or born again as those words are sometimes translated. "Born again?" asks Nicodemus. "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?"
The Gospel writer tells us that Nicodemus came to Jesus by night. And if that night suggests not only the absence of daylight but also a sort of spiritual darkness then that just about says it all. For if there is one thing for sure, it is that we mainline Protestants struggle with this idea of being born again or born from above. If I had a dollar for every church member who asked, "Do I really need to be born again?" I'd be able to retire early!
Why does this idea about being born again leave us in the dark much of the time? Undoubtedly, part of the reason is because we mainline Protestants don't talk about it very much. We don't speak of it in our worship; we don't discuss it in small group Bible studies; we have not made it a regular part of our religious vocabulary. And we have good reason not to dwell on it - the New Testament itself does not dwell on it. Do you know that the phrase "born from above" or "born again" occurs just two times in the entire New Testament and both of them are in this passage? It's hardly a New Testament--wide emphasis, is it? However, you'd never know that by talking with conservative evangelical Christians. They talk constantly about being born again. How do you reply when one of your conservative friends asks, "Have you been born again? When did it happen?" How do you feel when someone like Billy Graham the famous evangelist says on television, "No matter what your church tells you, religious ritual is not enough. It's great to be baptized; it's great to be confirmed; it's great to be a participating member of a church, but that is not enough. You must be born again"?
Like Nicodemus, we just don't get it. Like Nicodemus, we remain in the dark unable to see. And like Nicodemus, we get bogged down by biology rather than thrilled by theology. "Can I enter a second time into my mother's womb and be born?" he asks. Of course not, Jesus seems to say. We're not talking about the physical world here, but about the spiritual world, a world that is much more subtle and mysterious. It is, says Jesus, a lot like the wind. "The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit" (John 3:8).
People who travel to the islands of the Caribbean will tell you that the winds there blow basically from the same direction all year long. The trade winds blow all the way across the Atlantic from Africa until they reach the Caribbean. As a result, the islands are affected by winds from the East which are as predictable as the daily rising of the sun. By way of contrast, the winds on the Chesapeake Bay where I sail are much less predictable. One day they will blow down from the North, another day from the Southwest. On still another day, a sea breeze off the Atlantic will fill in from the Southeast. As a result, you never know what to expect.
The wind of the Spirit is more like the wind on the Chesapeake: subtle, mysterious, always changing, rarely the same two days in a row. It is this wind - the wind of the Spirit - which can blow into your life and mine in ways that are so subtle that you hardly notice until one day you open your eyes and begin to see things differently.
Here, for example, is a middle--aged man devoted entirely to his career. He has poured his whole life into his work. He has succeeded greatly in life and has much to show for it: a beautiful home, a couple of late model cars in the garage, a cabin in the mountains, a membership at the country club. But one day he wakes up, looks around, and realizes that all is not well. His wife who was once his best friend and most trusted confidant seems distant and uncaring. He feels like a stranger to his own children. His job title - senior vice president - which he once wore with pride like a battle ribbon on a soldier's uniform, no longer means what it once did. And then, ever so gradually he begins to change. He reaches out to his wife the way he had when they were young lovers with all of life's hopes and dreams stretching out in front of them. He rebuilds bridges with his children. He begins to laugh again, to enjoy life, to give away some of his time and energy. Those who know him wonder what's come over him. They ask him about it, but he himself is not even sure. But we know, don't we! The Spirit which is like the wind has been blowing gently, nudging him to begin to look at life in a whole new way. It is almost as if he has been born all over again.
Or here's a woman sitting in church one Sunday morning. All her life she's been told how bad she is: "You're no good. You're a failure. You're a flop. You'll never amount to anything." Not surprisingly, all these critical words have become a self--fulfilling prophecy, and she has lived her life drowning in a sea of self--doubt. But on this particular Sunday the minister says something that grabs hold of her and won't let go. Preaching about the story of creation and humanity's fall from grace, the minister points out that before there was original sin there was something like original goodness or original glory. After creating man and woman, says the minister, God said that it was good. What the minister says is not a lot, especially for someone who all her life has been told how bad she is. But it's just enough to open this woman's eyes and help her look at life and God and most especially herself in an entirely new way. Can you see what's happened? She's in the process of being born from above.
Here's a young man sitting in a high school classroom. It's career day at his former school, and he was invited back to speak to the students about his line of work. After the speech, he sits in on several of the classes. In one class, the students are studying American poetry. Under his breath he mutters, "I hated this stuff back when I went to school here. It's no different now. What a waste of time." But on this particular day the students are reading from Edwin Arlington Robinson's "Richard Cory," a poem about a fashionable and popular man, the toast of the town, who nevertheless goes home one hot summer night and puts a bullet through his head. Suddenly, the young man says to himself, "My God, I know people like Richard Cory!" And for the first time in his life the profound truths of good literature speak to him and send him off on a quest - a quest that continues to this day - to reread all of the books and poems he muddled through when he was a student. Can you see what's happening to him? He is experiencing something of a personal renaissance and discovering for the first time in his life a yearning for learning. It seems that the Spirit which is like the wind has been gently blowing him in directions he never would have chosen on his own.
Here's a Sunday school teacher, faithfully doing her duty, preparing her lessons each week, teaching the children Sunday after Sunday. Most of the time she finds the assignments to be dull and boring. But this week the curriculum calls for a field trip. The children are studying the words of Jesus where he says, "Love God and love your neighbor as yourself," and so they pay a visit to the local shelter where they help out by serving a meal to the homeless people. As the homeless poor file by in their Salvation Army clothes, carrying all of their worldly possessions in brown paper grocery bags, the teacher considers her own clothes - the latest in designer fashions - and the closet full of things she never wears, and suddenly something comes over her. Her eyes fill with tears of compassion and for the first time in her life she sees these poor homeless people, not as nameless, faceless blights in an otherwise beautiful community but as real people with real problems and concerns. Although she doesn't realize it at the time, slowly but surely she is being converted to the cause of the poor as she begins to volunteer an evening a week at the shelter.
What do all of these stories have in common? They all describe the changes that came over people who allowed the fresh winds of God to blow them in directions they might not have chosen for themselves. They all describe people who were given the chance to start over, people who were given a second chance or maybe a third or a fourth. It was, you see, as if they were born all over again.
But please notice where the initiative lies - not with the individuals themselves as if they could be born again by their own efforts. Is there any one of us who came into this world by our own efforts? Of course not! You have your mother to thank for that, as well as doctors and nurses and others. All you can do is look back with gratitude and then live your life in a way that honors those who gave you the gift of birth in the first place.
To be born from above is much the same. You can't make it happen on your own. No, it is much too mysterious for that - it's like the wind. Rather, it is God, who like a divine midwife gives you this gift, this chance to start all over again. Sometimes the change comes over you gradually; sometimes it can come dramatically and suddenly. But one way or another the change comes.
Most often we make this business of being born from above much too complicated. For me, it is not unlike receiving a new pair of eyes. For part of your life you have looked at the world in one way. But then, one day you begin to realize that you're looking at things differently, no longer through your own eyes but through the eyes of faith. In one of his books, the Dutch Roman Catholic priest Henri Nouwen says: "This is the great call to conversion: to look [at the world] not with the eyes of my own low self--esteem, but with the eyes of God's love."1 What we're talking about is new eyes - new eyes for the spiritually needy. Or as Jesus puts it to Nicodemus, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" (John 3:3).
It would be tempting to stop right here. After all, we have been talking about being born from above, and we have considered that idea from a number of perspectives. But the passage from John won't let us stop just yet, because, frankly, being born from above is not meant to be an end in itself. To say that you have been born again but then fail to involve this "new you" in the world around you is to miss the point. As seminary professor Leonard Sweet has written: "Conversion without immersion in the life [and mission] of Jesus Christ is a perversion of the gospel."2
How fascinating that a passage of scripture, which begins with a one--on--one conversation about being born from above, should conclude with what is perhaps the most beautiful statement about God's world--wide mission found anywhere in the Bible:
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
- John 3:16--17
To see the world like that - as deeply loved by God and in the process of being saved - is to join forces with Christ in this great work of redemption. For most of us, that will mean looking at the world with new eyes. For as Jesus reminds us, "No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above."
____________
1. Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Return Of The Prodigal Son (New York: Doubleday Publishing Group, 1992), p. 99.
2. Leonard Sweet, A Cup Of Coffee At The Soul Caf (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1998), p. 155.
