John 3:14-21
Loving God Back
James Sledge Lent
4 – March 14, 2021
It was a very long time ago, but I can
still recall what for me were the terrors of dating. I was never very good at
asking someone out on a date. I found it intimidating. I suppose I’m one of
those folks who doesn’t handle rejection very well, and it was awful to
contemplate being dismissed by someone I was attracted to.
And when I did start dating someone, and
things seemed to be going pretty well, another terror eventually reared its
head. At what point was it safe to express the depth of my feelings? I assume
this is a fairly common experience as I’ve seen comics do standup routines
about blurting out “I love you” only to be met with silence.
But should the person respond with an “I
love you, too,” another potential crisis moment may yet lie ahead. At some
point the topic of marriage might come up, and here again, the possibility of
being the only one interested in that level of commitment is real.
It seems there are a number of crisis
moments along the road of love. There are moments when the relationship could
move forward, or it could begin to unravel. It all depends on how the other
person responds when they hear, “Do you want to go to a movie,” or “I love
you,” or “Would you marry me?” It all depends on whether or not that other
person is able to return your love, to love you back.
Most people think of love as a good thing,
even a wonderful thing, but there are frightening moments along the way, make
or break moments.
I’m not sure it is all that different with
God’s love. There is a moment when the depth of God’s love for us becomes
apparent, and then we have to respond. God says, “I love you,” and then waits
to see what we will do. It’s a crisis moment on the road of divine love.
I think that is what Jesus is talking
about in our gospel reading this morning. Our verses are part of a much longer
passage the begins when Nicodemus, a Pharisee, comes to see Jesus at night.
Nicodemus is clearly impressed by Jesus, and he comes hoping to learn more. But
he is also wary. Presumably he comes at night so he won’t be seen.
Nicodemus struggles to understand. When
Jesus talks to him about the need to be “born from above,” Nicodemus takes
Jesus literally and hears “born again.” Jesus’ attempts to further explain
things make no headway, and the last thing we hear Nick say is “How can
these things be?” After that, Nicodemus seems to disappear from the
scene. In the verses just prior to our reading, Jesus shifts from speaking to
“you” singular, instead addressing “you” plural. The gospel never reports
Nicodemus’ departure, but by the time we hear Jesus’ words this morning, he is
talking past Nicodemus to the readers of John’s gospel.
Our reading has one of the more famous
lines from the gospel. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only
Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal
life.” John 3:16 gets written on posters and bumper stickers and featured
in tattoos. One fellow became famous for wearing a rainbow wig and holding a
sign the read, John 3:16.
It’s easy to see why this verse is a
favorite. God loves the world so much that Jesus would come and even die to
show the depth of that love. It’s also easy to see why no one ever holds up a
sign that reads John 3:18, “…but those who do not believe are condemned
already,” or John 3:19, “And this is the judgment, that the light
has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light…” Let’s
just talk about how nice God’s love is, not how it produces a crisis.
Perhaps it will interest you to know that
the Greek word translated “judgment” is kri/sij (krisis) the
origin of our word crisis. It can also be translated “decision” or “choice,”
and that is exactly what must be done when someone says, “I love you,” when God
says “I love you.” You must decide if you are going to love the person back, if
you are going to love God back.
When someone says, “I love you,” you must
go one way or the other. If you return the love you move toward them. If you
can’t or won’t love the person back, you push them away. The crisis that comes
with “I love you,” doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room. Even if you don’t
respond at all, that is a response. You’ve given an answer.
I wonder if people intuitively realize
this about God’s love and so look for ways to forestall the crisis. A lot of
church folks work pretty hard at not getting serious with God. For some reason
the whole religion thing feels comforting to them or they feel a certain pull
toward faith, but they don’t dare let it go too far. They don’t want to get in
too deep.
Perhaps that’s the case with Nicodemus
whose nighttime visit to Jesus prompted the words that we heard this morning,
words about the crisis of encountering the bright light of God’s love.
I wonder if Nicodemus even heard these
words. I’ve always thought that when Jesus shifts from a singular you to a
plural one that it’s just a literary device, a way the gospel writer lets the
reader hear Jesus addressing them. But perhaps Nicodemus has already slipped
away into the night and is no longer there. He’s put some distance between
himself and Jesus before any moment of crisis can arise. But he’s made his
decision. He came in the dark and he leaves in the dark. “And this is the
judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness
rather than light…”
That’s a little depressing. Nicodemus
doesn’t go all in for Jesus when he meets him, and that’s it? He’s condemned
already because he couldn’t do anything more than hang around the edges,
couldn’t actually respond to God’s “I love you” in the right way? Then what
about all of us who hang around the edges and avoid getting serious with God?
Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus in the dark
and slinks away in the dark doesn’t ever come back for a second visit. He never
sees Jesus again as far as we know. But this is not the last time Nick appears
in John’s gospel. His final appearance is in broad daylight, when Jesus dies on
the cross and Joseph of Arimathea comes to ask Pilate for the body. John’s
gospel tells us, Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing
a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing almost a hundred pounds.
That’s an incredibly extravagant gift
Nicodemus brings for Jesus’ funeral. Somewhere in the years between that
confused, nighttime conversation and the cross, he must have come to that
crisis point and decided to step into the light. Nick seemed to have been
judged already, condemned already. He hid from the light. He couldn’t quite
believe that Jesus was indeed God’s “I love you” to the world.
But God so loves the world, a world that
often resists God. And if Nicodemus is any guide, God takes the long view of
things. God’s “I love you” hovers over the world, over all creation, waiting
for us to recognize it for what it is and respond. “I love you, too,” waiting
for us to learn how to love God back.