Sermons for the Month
Take the Plunge
DATE: February 24, 2002
TEXT: John 3:1-17“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
I never learned to swim as a child; in fact, somewhere along the line I developed an unhealthy fear of the water that went way beyond its actual hazards. But I decided long ago that my own children were not going to be similarly disadvantaged; so when we first started going to Lutheran Outdoor Ministries' Camp Luther for an annual week of family camp, I insisted that my young son go to the beginners' swim class. And I went too. Every afternoon for a week, it was me and the 4- and 5-year olds, learning to put our faces in the water and blow bubbles. By the end of the week, most of the little kids were doing a decent dog paddle. I was not - I had a long way to go, and a lot of UNlearn - but by the end of the week, I could take a deep breath, stretch up my arms, lean forward, and let my feet leave the floor of the pool --yes, at last I too could do the Dead Man's Float, and in spite of the ominous name, I was very, very proud. It had taken every bit of daring and determination to do it, to believe that the water would hold me up, and to take the risk that that which I had feared for so long could in fact be my friend. In the Gospel of John, "to believe" is a constant recurring theme, as for example in the most familiar verse of the entire book, the 16th verse of this 3rd chapter which is part of Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus: "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that everyone who believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life." "Believe" for John is the verb form of the word which elsewhere in the New Testament is translated "faith;" so where St. Paul would say, "you gotta have faith," John would say, "you gotta believe!" Now, I know that last week I said that "faith" is being securely rooted in the Word of God and its promises; and that's true. But "faith" is at the same time like floating on the water. Because when John says you gotta "believe," he's not talking about something that you do with your head, at least not primarily; he's talking about a "faith" that you do with your feet and your hands, your body and your heart and your soul. That's the only kind of "belief" that means anything! You see, I knew with my head that according to the laws of physics, the human body is buoyant in water, but that belief didn't do anything for me because I wouldn't risk putting that knowledge into practice. You gotta believe…you gotta put your face in the water and let your feet come up, and for a very long time, I wasn't willing to do that. Neither was Nicodemus. Nicodemus came to Jesus to "check him out." Perhaps he wanted to see for himself the "signs and wonders" that Jesus was doing, here in the early days of his public ministry; perhaps as a leader in the religious community, Nicodemus felt obligated to make sure that Jesus had his theology on straight since he was going around preaching and teaching. Nicodemus, you see, believed " the right stuff" - the Law of Moses, the teachings of the prophets, the sacred story of the people of Israel and their covenantal relationship with the Lord God. Though in the presence of Jesus, this very learned man sounds fairly clueless! "How can a man be born again? Can he go back into his mother's womb and come out a second time?" Teachers always say there's no such thing as a dumb question, but that one comes awfully close! "If you can't understand the stuff that God is doing here on earth," Jesus says, incredulously, exasperatedly, "like creating lives that are new by the work of His Spirit acting in repentant hearts, however do you imagine you could grasp the truly awesome mysteries of the Kingdom of God which reaches beyond all space and time?" "Nicodemus, sometimes you have to stop thinking so hard; sometimes you have to take the risk and dive on in; sometimes you just gotta believe…" But that's what Nicodemus was not yet willing to do. He was willing to observe Jesus, debate Jesus, ponder Jesus, discuss Jesus - but at this point in the story he wasn't willing to risk himself with Jesus. He wasn't willing to trust what his own eyes and ears and his brain should have been telling him, that this was indeed the long-awaited Messiah, the Redeemer of Israel, the eternal Light come to vanquish the world's darkness, the eternal Word of God come to create all things new. He wasn't yet ready to do more than get his ankles wet; wasn't yet at the point of taking the plunge and to entrust himself to Jesus. Well, who of us is?? Who of us hasn't had the experience of wanting to get just close enough to Jesus to get the benefits of his company, without any of the risks? Who of us hasn't at some time been rather deliberately dense about something Jesus was saying, hoping perhaps that if we just don't understand what he wants us to do, he'll give up on us and try somebody else? Who of us hasn't gone to Jesus under cover of darkness, knowing that we need what only He can give, but hoping no one else notices that we're down on our knees, and not quite the masters of our own destiny that we like to think we are? Who of us can stretch up our arms and throw ourselves forward, risking what precarious footing we have managed to find on our own simply on a Word of promise spoken long ago by a man whose face we've never seen? Who of us is any better than Nicodemus, finally reduced to silence before the Word of the Lord? Would you believe it, there are those who find our Lutheran teachings on human sin and God's grace depressing and pessimistic? I find them thoroughly true to human experience and filled with hope. "I believe," the Lutheran confesses in the Small Catechism's explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles Creed, "that I CANNOT by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, or come to Him…" I can't make myself believe, and neither can you, and neither could Nicodemus, no matter how hard we try, no matter how lengthy our study, how earnest our conversation, how eloquent the debate. "But the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith--" those are beautiful words, liberating words - "even as he calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian Church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one truth faith." It's a gift, this life-changing, life-renewing, eternally life-giving belief in the only Son of God, who is given to the world not to quiz us or to condemn us, but to love us, to rescue us, and to set us free. Believing in him is a gift given to us just as surely as life itself is a gift, God working a miracle through the hearts and minds and bodies of our parents; this new life is a miracle worked through the water of Baptism, the Word of God, and the breath of His Spirit. No, He won't force us to accept the gift - but oh, how He wants us to, and how patient He is with His silly, stubborn, sinful children, coaxing us out into the water, reassuring us that He'll never let us sink, and promising us that the experience of belief in His Son Jesus will be as wonderful as ever we could have hoped, and even more. We can choose to continue to be afraid, to hang back, to run away, to say to the Lord, "maybe another time." But why would we want to, when God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that everyone who "take the plunge" into him might not perish, but have everlasting life. Once again this very day, He offers the gift of faith, the power to believe; supplies us with the courage and grace to stretch upward, to take a deep breath of the Spirit, to lean forward into life, to risk letting go, and so to experience the holy joy of the life and love of Christ surrounding us, supporting us, and carrying us forward. AMEN