“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)
Oh crap. It’s Holy Trinity Sunday again. I
really should’ve asked to have this Sunday off so I don’t have to preach
another sermon on the Holy Trinity. I mean, what do you do? Recite the Athanasian
Creed?
What’s worse is that the Gospel lesson in the
Revised Common Lectionary for this Sunday is John 3:1-17, the visit of
Nicodemus to Jesus by night. What’s so bad about this, you ask? Nothing. It’s a
great piece of scripture, except that it includes that all-too-famous verse
which I’ve cited at the top of this post. You know it. You memorized it in
Sunday School. Tim Tebow used to write it on his face during football games (Really, Tim..?). People put it on their
car bumpers. Some people make “John 3:16” signs and hold them up at sporting
events. But this verse isn’t just a slogan like “I like Ike” or “Make America
Great Again.”
As crucial as this verse is in the
Scripture, I fear it has become the whole theology of American Christianity. As
I’ve often said, we seem to have dumbed our whole thinking about God down to “Believe
in Jesus so you won’t go to Hell.” And that kind of limited thinking robs us of
the richness of God’s message and makes us smugly judgmental of others.
This whole section from John 3 is chosen
for Holy Trinity because it brings together the persons of the Trinity: God
loving the world, Jesus being lifted up on the cross (v. 14), and the concept
of being “born from above” or “born again” by the Spirit (v. 3).
(By
the way, the Greek word here, anwqen
[pronounced ah-NO-then] can mean “anew,” “from above,” or “from
the beginning.” So take your pick as to how you want to be born of the Spirit.)
I think we’re supposed to look at this
passage in light of its Trinitarian message (which makes sense since we’re reading
it on Holy Trinity Sunday!) and try to see if it can say something more to us
than just that we should assent to a Church doctrine. I mean, what does this
passage have to say about the way we live our lives and experience the world?
If you’ve been a Christian for any time at
all you probably are familiar with this section of John’s Gospel. Nicodemus sneaks over to Jesus’ place by night
(maybe he doesn’t want to be seen with this radical guy) and starts by
flattering him. Jesus responds by messing with the old guy’s head and telling
him he can’t see the kingdom of God unless he is born anew or from above by the
Spirit. This is the part that catches my imagination today as I re-read this
familiar passage. Do you want to see what God is doing? Do you want to have
insight into the way and rule of God? Then you have to be open to reimagining
God.
Trinitarian theology sees God in creation
and in the sacrificial love of Jesus. But it also sees God in us. We are part of God’s creation, but
we are also part of the love of Christ. The Spirit is God’s breath of life. It’s
what creates us, animates us, and connects us to all of God’s creation. Unfortunately,
we don’t just automatically see or comprehend this.
I was listening to NPR in my car a few
days ago and I heard a story about a stand-up comic (I forget the guy’s name. I’ve
tried to look up this story online to make sure I have my facts right, but I can’t
seem to find it. Sorry.) If I heard correctly, he faked his own death via
facebook. Now, this guy was a real tool. He drank too much, did
recreational drugs, and was, like many tortured souls who go into comedy,
regularly abusive to the people who were close to him. He was just obnoxious.
Period.
When his “death notice” appeared, however,
he was in for a shock. Even accounting for the fact that nice people don’t like
to speak ill of the dead, the reaction to his “passing” was overwhelming.
People poured out their love and appreciation for this man. People he’d been
snide to recounted how he had assisted them. People remembered him as their
friend. There were testimonies about things he thought were insignificant,
things which he’d long forgotten, which were remembered as being loving and meaningful
to his “mourners.” Most shocking of all was the fact that, after the hoax was
revealed, his friends forgave him for fooling them. They were just glad that he
was alive and okay.
People saw God in this man. They saw the
love of God which he was incapable of seeing in himself. When he realized it,
he was born again.
Now, before you accuse me of Pelagianism
(the ancient heresy which asserted that even fallen children of Adam contain a
spark of Divine Goodness which allows us to find our way back to God—and by the
way, I hate it when you do that!), please consider that the guy in my anecdote
could not see his own goodness unless it had been revealed to him through others. The doctrine of the
Trinity requires that we know God only in relationship. If the spirit of the
Creator God’s love is in me, I have to accept that it’s in everyone else, too.
But, just as I can’t see my own face without a mirror, I can’t see God’s love
in me unless it’s reflected in others. As a Christian, I need to look to the
cross and see a man whose love was so great that he was willing to die for
people he’d never met, and recognize that God meant that love for me—and also
for you.
If I can rethink God and Jesus as being
part of me and part of everyone else, I may not drop to the ground sobbing or run
around shouting “Hallelujah,” but I will certainly be living in a new reality.
John 3:16 won’t just be about me, but about how I encounter the world. It won’t
just be a one-off confession. It will be my every day truth.
God loves you, my friend. Thanks for
reading.
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