Nicodemus should have stayed home and gone to bed early that night long ago, but instead he secretly made his way to where Jesus was staying in Jerusalem and became a part of whatever was happening there. Something prompted him to address Jesus as "Teacher" a divinely appointed teacher who worked miracles in the name of God. Only one sent by God could do the things that Jesus did, according to Nicodemus. And he was right, of course. But what he said immediately prompted a retort from Jesus: "Unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." That is, unless a person is born again, of water and the Spirit, he or she will not see past Jesus’ good works and miracles to the real reason that he, God’s only Son, was in the world. Nicodemus wanted to settle for a special teacher, a miracle worker commissioned by God. But apparently he was not ready to prostrate himself at Jesus’ feet and call him "Lord."
When Nicodemus attempted to extricate himself from the dilemma which he had created, he made another mistake in asking Jesus, "How can a man be born again when he is old? Can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?" Perhaps he really and sincerely was inquiring about himself and his own spiritual predicament, rather than trying to vindicate himself. In either regard, he received no easy answer. Jesus repeated his "unless a man is born of water and the Spirit" statement - and expanded on it, explaining that it is this new birth that comes from God. This mystery is the greatest miracle of all; it results from believing that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and - through the Tree and the Tomb - the Savior of all. I suspect that Nicodemus was either totally squelched or completely confused when Jesus went on to tell him that "the Son of man must be lifted up" just as "Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness," because the scene ends at that point. John takes over with his commentary, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." That’s where we are (or are expected to be) today.
Today and every day of our lives we are faced with the fact, when we are honest with ourselves, that we are separated from God and his kingdom. We know that he has made us part of that kingdom in Christ, but the world tries, and too often succeeds trying, to turn us toward this life, its pleasures, and ourselves. Not a day goes by that we don’t sin and widen the gulf between God and ourselves. More often than not, we fail to pray, "I have sinned and fallen ... Lord, have mercy upon me," confident of what Christ accomplished at Calvary.
I remember Douglas Webster’s book, In Debt to Christ (A Study in the Meaning of the Cross). As the reader opens it to the title page - and before another word is read - Salvador Dali’s "Christ of Saint John of the Cross" meets the eye. The cross is huge and lifted up so that it seems to be floating over the earth. Christ hangs there, looking down - a strong young man, in the prime of life, nailed to the terrible Tree. Light emanates from the base of the cross, illuminating the darkness of the night and casting the first rays of a new day’s light upon the earth. Blue sky is seen above a lake, and a fishing boat has been beached directly under the cross of Christ; two fishermen are working on their nets, while a dim figure can be seen walking toward them along the waterfront. Webster says, "He (Jesus) is the ‘young Prince of Glory’ as in the original version of Isaac Watts’ famous hymn. He seems to be holding back the great volume of darkness, forcing its retreat ... But the Cross remains, dominating the world, and the world the artist sees is the world on which Christ looks from His Cross."16
That is how Salvador Dali interprets Jesus’ own words, "So must the Son of man be lifted up" - not simply on a staff in the wilderness for people who have been bitten by snakes, but on a Tree that is lifted up over the whole earth so that every person on earth might see that Christ is Lord, believe, and be born again through Christ into the kingdom of God. Lent makes us look at
that cross of glory and salvation; it will not allow us simply to make a few sacrifices, say a couple prayers, or even utter an occasional mea culpa "I have sinned" as we make our way through this sacred season. The temptation many of us face is simply that we take our stand with Nicodemus, who stood for a legal system designed to make people right with God. Human beings were left with an impossible task: through the deeds they performed under the Law they were to become worthy of God’s love and companionship. The system didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now. You see, we must be "born again" to enter the kingdom, and that’s a spiritual matter over which God, and God alone, has control. That’s why, in the light of our sin and the death-sentence it pronounces upon us, we find ourselves confronted with Christ’s cross in the very middle of Lent. There is no way we can save ourselves and extricate ourselves from our predicament; self-salvation is an utter impossibility for every one of us.
Gerhard Forde writes, "To use a rather far-fetched illustration, [self-salvation] would be something like saying that you have to grow freckles in order to be saved. Well, then, if you don’t have them (by some mysterious predestination) the question would be, ‘How do I get freckles?’ ‘By grace,’ comes the answer. ‘But where do I get such grace?’ ‘From God.’ ‘But how?’ ‘Well, you go to church and partake of the sacraments and pay attention to the preacher and do what he says.’ So I do all that and the next morning I look in the mirror and behold, no freckles! Now what?" Forde continues: "Then there are just two possibilities. Either I have not been following the instructions properly, or God has just decided not to give this mysterious freckle-creating grace to me. I am left between the devil and the deep blue sea ... Usually, of course, I will be pious and gracious enough to flatter God by not laying the blame on him ... and take the blame on myself. So in the end everything will depend on me."17 And that just doesn’t work in the kingdom of God. You see, it all depends upon God - and, of course, our faith in Jesus Christ.
Jesus’ death on that Tree - and that alone - is what makes us good and acceptable to God. Christ had to be "lifted up" so that all people might see him and know that they have been released from the condemnation of sin and become the children of God again. Jesus’ death was never meant to be seen as some sort of a semi-private execution that was to take place within the confines of a prison or a death chamber isolated from public view.
A recent headline read: "He bled to death behind unlocked gate."18 It introduced the story of a man who bled to death after nearly severing his arm on a broken window in an apparent attempt to break into and rob a commercial building. The man evidently fell twenty feet to the ground after he tried to jump from the roof through a window; he must have been too weak from the loss of blood to go through an unlocked gate in a fence and get some help. Subsequently, he bled to death - and no one saw what was happening to him as this private tragedy unfolded. Nor had he ever been arrested, let alone convicted of a crime, before this tragic incident. Most people soon forgot the story of the man who bled to death behind the unlocked gate; indeed, only this one account ever appeared in the newspapers, as far as I know. How different is the story of Christ’s death. His cross looms above the world so that all might be drawn to him.
That’s the way God wanted it to happen, so that we might believe in Christ rather than believing that we can save ourselves. He not only sent Christ into the world, but he gave him, his only-begotten Son, to save all of us in this crazy, mixed-up world. God gave Jesus over to death, a criminal’s death. Isn’t that the most puzzling statement in the Bible? What sort of father - what sort of God - would sacrifice the life of a child so that others might live?
Just recently the parents of a seven-year-old boy, Chad Knutson, donated their son’s corneas, heart, liver, and kidneys to people desperately in need of transplants - after their son, his four-year-old brother, and a neighbor were killed in a train-auto accident.
Chad had seen the widely publicized Jamie Fiske story on television and was puzzled by her need for a liver transplant; he was six years old at that time. After his mother explained it to him, he said, "Mom, when I go to heaven I’ll have a new body ... When I die, I’d like to be able to do that." His mother said, "It hits you hard. You don’t expect a six-year-old to talk about donating his organs. But that was Chad’s wish." The opportunity came swiftly and unexpectedly. When it did, Roy and Mickey Knutson, on learning that their son was brain-dead, allowed his body to be kept on a respirator and then sent it to Minneapolis and the University of Minnesota Hospitals where transplants were performed on five different patients. They declared: "We, as Christians, feel God has a plan for everyone ... We’re thankful for the beautiful years [God] gave us with our boys and that Chad was allowed to help others ... For us, that has been a joy."19
Is there something of the mind and heart of God - in the face of the cross and death of Christ - in that story? In the comfort those parents knew, perhaps we can discover a reflection of God’s satisfaction in knowing that the death of Christ was not in vain.
But all of that doesn’t make contemplation of Christ’s cross - and facing up to his death - any easier. The renowned English preacher, W. E. Sangster, once said, "I never go to Aber Fall in North Wales, without feeling the pathos of something that occurred there three years ago. A brilliant young lawyer, of whom I knew, was climbing the mountain near Aber Falls with a friend. His friend noticed the green slime on the rocks as they climbed and called out: ‘Do be careful,’ to which the young Mr. Payne replied: ‘Oh it’s as safe as anything. I couldn’t fall here.’ " Sangster says, "They were the last words he uttered. I know the spot at the bottom of the Falls where his mangled body was picked up."20 That was something that should not have happened, an unnecessary tragedy, in the mind of Dr. Sangster. But the pathos of Jesus’ story is that God allowed Jesus to die - for all of us - at the hands of sinful people. That’s what makes the drama so powerful: when we dare to read the gospel and contemplate what it cost Jesus Christ to save the world at the specific bidding of God his Father.
When darkness descended upon the world that day as Jesus died, it was like a brief eclipse: God’s light had come into the world and the darkness could not obliterate it any more than death could hold Jesus Christ an eternal prisoner. To live in that light means that, following Luther’s advice, we will "thank, praise, serve, and obey him" - our God - with our lips and with our lives. Once more we are called to prayer and devotion during Lent as we move closer to the Week of Jesus’ Passion and death, the week that spells out the climax of his life and ministry on earth, and new life for those of us who believe in him and trust him.
Six months ago, a small-town newspaper in northeastern Pennsylvania carried a personal, quarter-page advertisement that caught my attention. It was from a woman, Rose Bertola Funke, who apparently had been hospitalized quite some time with a very serious illness. Beneath the headline, "From my heart," she wrote, "To just say THANK YOU to my wonderful friends and neighbors who so abundantly demonstrated their love in so many ways during my recent illness would be a terrible understatement. It would be impossible to acknowledge every kindness, [because] the sending of food to my family, the phone calls, visits, cards, gifts, flowers, and prayers were overwhelming." Five short paragraphs followed, naming specific people and their thoughtfulness and care; then came three columns of names - over 110 in all! - below the written copy. She concluded, "Although I have tried my best to include everyone who was so kind to me, I’m sure I have inadvertently overlooked a few people. Please forgive me."21 Her name, "Rose Bertola Funke," appeared at the very bottom of the ad.
Our task is much easier than hers, or than Nicodemus’. We know that "our Redeemer liveth," for that was God’s will, too. And so we thank our God for his grace, love, and mercy in Jesus Christ, and praise him for giving us birth in his kingdom, and love and serve him as best we can - because we know it. Thanks be to God - and to Jesus Christ, our Lord, who died on the Tree and rose from the Tomb, that we might live forever.
16. Webster, Douglas, In Debt to Christ: A Study in the Meaning of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress Press).
17. Forde, Gerhard O., Justification by Faith - A Matter of Death and Life. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982).
18. From a story in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune, August 17, 1983, by Dennis McGrath.
19. A story by Paul Levy and Lewis Cope, "Jamie Fiske Story Inspired Seven-year-old Boy to Donate Organs," in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune, September 22, 1983.
20. Sangster, W. E., They Met at Calvary. (Nashville and New York: Abingdon, 1956).
21. A classified advertisement in The Wayne Independent (Honesdale, Pennsylvania), June 14, 1983.