The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN
The Second Sunday in Lent
March 1, 2026
When I read this Gospel text from John, I always find myself wondering about Nicodemus. Wondering if he ever truly understood… Did this learned man— Did this careful keeper of the law, Did this respected teacher of Israel... Ever loosen his grip on certainty long enough to receive what God was doing right in front of him?
Nicodemus knew the Torah and the Prophets. He knew the commandments of God. He knew the rules and careful boundaries that had guided his whole life. Nicodemus was not careless with his faith. He was devout. He was Serious. And he was considered Moral and righteous.
And when he came to Jesus, he came with respect for him as a great teacher. “Rabbi,” he said, “we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could do these signs apart from God’s presence.” For Nicodemus, this is a remarkable confession. Because folks like Nicodemus were already making trouble for Jesus. Yet, Jesus does not linger there. He doesn't spend a lot of time basking in the affirmation he receives from Nicodemus.
Instead, Jesus turns the conversation, as he always does... he turns the conversation in order to teach. Jesus always reframes the conversation and points it toward what matters most. “Very truly, I tell you,” Jesus says, “no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” And Nicodemus, this learned, devout, moral man, stumbles... “How can these things be?”
He hears Jesus words about being born and he thinks literally. Mechanically. Biologically. “How can someone enter the womb again?” Nicodemus is thinking of flesh. And Jesus is speaking of Spirit.
And before we are too hard on him, we must admit that —so often, we do the same thing. We live in a world that trains us to look at things in a very linear and literal way… Our world teaches us to measure, explain, verify, and prove.
We have become people shaped by data and headlines, by statistics and breaking news alerts. We scroll through reports of political division, mass violence, racial injustice, economic anxiety, and wars that seem to multiply faster than peacemakers can respond.
We hear strong, loud voices telling us exactly what to think and believe... What to believe about our nation, about our neighbor, and about truth itself. We are told that if we could just pass the right laws, elect the right leaders, and silence the right opponents, then everything would be made right.
In such a world, mystery tends to make us uncomfortable. But in this passage from John, Jesus invites Nicodemus, and us, into the deep mystery of God. Jesus speaks of water and Spirit. He speaks of wind that blows where it chooses. “You can hear the sound of it, he says but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. The wind is real, even when you can’t chart its path. So it is with the Spirit of God.
Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin, a leader among his people, and a guardian of religious stability. He had spent the better part of his life preserving order. And perhaps that is why he comes at night. Night is safer. Night is quieter. Night protects reputations. Night also shields us from critical evaluation and scrutiny. Whatever the reason that Nicodemus has for coming to Jesus at night, Jesus meets Nicodemus there... right there in his darkest hour.
And perhaps that is good news for us. Because many of us are also coming to Jesus by night, right there in our darkest hour. We come to quiet our fears about the future of our country, as we callously bomb other countries in order to show how powerful we are. We come with private grief over the harshness of public discourse, bullying, and name-calling. We come weary from watching Christians weaponize Scripture against one another. We come confused about how faith fits or makes a difference in a society that seems both deeply spiritual and deeply skeptical. And like Nicodemus, we whisper, “How can these things be?”
How can there be a loving God in a world that’s so fractured? How can we speak of being “born again” when those same words have sometimes been used to exclude, judge, and divide? How can we hold together truth and compassion, conviction and humility?
Jesus does not shame Nicodemus for asking. He invites him to go deeper, to think deeper. To be born from above is not to deny the world’s pain. It is NOT to retreat from national crises. It is NOT to ignore injustices or cling to empty slogans. To be born of the Spirit is to have our hearts reshaped by the love of God.
“For God so loved the world…” the scripture tells us… Not just a party. Not just a nation. Not just those who agree with us. God so loved the world… The WHOLE world...
That means the neighbor who votes differently. The family down the street... struggling under economic strain. The immigrant seeking safety. The child... afraid of violence in their school. The police officer. The protester. The skeptic. The believer. God so loved the world!
To be born of the Spirit means that we begin to see others the way God sees them... Not as threats to eliminate or defeat, but as neighbors… as souls to love.
Jesus tells Nicodemus that the kingdom of God cannot be reduced to rules alone. The law matters. But without a transformed heart, even holy words become heavy burdens.
And that's the word for today’s church. We can memorize verses. We can argue about theology. We can defend our positions. But unless we are willing to let the Spirit soften us, humble us, and break us open, we will miss the very life of God that is standing right before us.
Nicodemus does not understand that night. But he keeps trying… He keeps showing up. Later in the Gospel, he speaks up cautiously in Jesus’ defense. And after the crucifixion, he shows up again. This time, not in the dark of curiosity, but under the veil of grief, bringing spices to prepare Jesus’ body for burial.
Something in Nicodemus began to change. He might not have understood everything. But he kept moving toward the light of Christ. And maybe that is where hope lies for us. We may not have all the answers. We may not know how to solve every crisis that shows up on our screens.
We may not be able to untangle every theological debate. But we can keep moving toward Christ. We can keep asking the hard questions. We can confess our fears. We can allow the Spirit to disrupt our certainty and enlarge our love.
This Lenten season invites us into that difficult work. To be born again is not a slogan. It is a surrender. It is allowing God’s Spirit to breathe into us… Into our bitterness... into our cynicism. And give new life to our exhausted hope.
The wind still blows. The Spirit still moves... often in ways we cannot predict, control, or explain. God’s love for the world has not grown thin. Regardless of how much we mess up, God’s love has not been shaken. The invitation remains.
Trust this love. Step into this mystery. And let your heart be broken open. And even if we don’t yet fully understand, like Nicodemus, we can keep coming into the light. We can keep listening.
We can keep being born, again and again, into the transforming life and love of Jesus Christ through the power of the indwelling Spirit.
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