It's Not Up to You

 

It’s Not Up to You

It's Not Up to You - Audio/Visual 

There was a man named Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader who was a Pharisee. After dark one evening, he came to speak with Jesus. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.” Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.” “What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicodemus. “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?” Jesus replied, “I assure you; no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life. (John 3:1-6)

As much as I loved my dog, True, we didn’t always see eye-to-eye. The problem wasn’t his personality because you could not have found a bigger love than True – he saw every person as a friend, and every day as a holiday. So, I didn’t really have a problem with True’s attitude. My problem was with his habits – eating scraps out of the trash; licking dirty plates in the dishwasher; doing his business in the wrong places. And, occasionally, he would quench his thirst in the porcelain water bowl – if you know what I mean. That was the problem. It was True’s habits. Dog behaviors. True’s problem was not a True problem. True’s problem was a dog problem.

Apparently, it’s a dog's nature to do these things. And it was his nature that I would have liked to have changed, not just his behaviors. A dog trainer could have changed his behaviors, but I wanted to go deeper. I wanted to change who he was. So, I had an idea: a me-to-True transfusion. The deposit of a little bit of me into him. I wanted to give True a kernel of human character. Then, as it grew, wouldn’t he have changed? His human nature would have developed, and his dog nature would have diminished. We would have witnessed not just a change of habits, but a change of essence. In time, True would have been less like True and more like me, sharing my disgust for trash snacking, potty slurping and dish licking. He would have been given a new nature. Crazy, right? Perhaps. But not to God.

What I wanted to do with True, God wants to do with us. He wants to change our nature from the inside out. “I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart. And I will put my Spirit in you so that you will follow my decrees and be careful to obey my regulations.” (Ezek. 36:26-27) God doesn't want to send us to obedience school to learn new habits; he wants to send us to the ER to get a new heart. Forget the training. God gives transplants. Bizarre? Well, imagine how that must have sounded to Nicodemus.

Nicodemus is impressive. Not only is he one of the 6,000 Pharisees, he’s a ruler – one of seventy men who serve on the high council. Think of him as a religious blueblood. What the justices are to the Supreme Court, he was to the Law of Moses. He’s an expert. Credentials trail his name like a bride’s train. Nicodemus, Ph.D., Th.D., M.S., M.Div. Universities want him on their board. Conferences want him on their dais. When it comes to religion, he's loaded. But when it comes to life, he's exhausted. As a leading Jew, he's trying to obey the Talmud, which is no small feat. There are twenty-four chapters on the Sabbath, alone. Things like, “Tailors can carry no needles.” “Kids can toss no balls.” “Don’t carry a load heavier than a fig, but anything half the weight of a fig can be carried twice.” “You can carry enough ink to draw two letters.” “You can’t move a phonebook, unless it’s to be used as a booster seat.” Whew.

Can a scientist study stars and never weep at their splendor, or dissect a rose and never notice its perfume? Can a theologian study the Law until he decodes Moses’ shoe size, but still lack the peace needed for a good night's sleep? Maybe that's why Nicodemus came at night. He’s tired and he can't sleep. Tired of all the rules and regulations, he just can’t rest. Nicodemus is looking for a change, and he has a hunch Jesus can give it. And though Nicodemus doesn’t ask a question, Jesus gives him an answer: I assure you; no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. (John 3:3)

This is radical language – to see the kingdom of God you need an unprecedented rebirth from God. Nicodemus staggers at the enormity of the thought. "How can a man be born when he is old? He cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born, can he?" (v. 4) Don't you just love those last two words? “Can he?” Nicodemus knows that a grown man doesn't reenter the birth canal. There’s no Rewind button on the DVR of life . . . is there? We don't get to start over . . . do we? A man can't be born again . . . can he? What made Nicodemus add those two little words?

The truth is that Nick should’ve known better. He wasn't born yesterday, but maybe he wishes he were. Maybe he wishes he could be born today. Maybe those last two words “can he?” emerge from that part of Nicodemus that longs for strength and youthful vigor. A fresh start. New legs. A clean page. Nicodemus seems to be saying, "Jesus, my spiritual tank is on empty. So, how do you expect me to be born again when I can't even remember if figs can be eaten (or are they carried?) on the Sabbath? I'm an old man. How can a man be born when he’s old?" According to Christ, the new birth must come from a new place. I assure you; no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life. (vv. 5-6)

Could Jesus be any more direct? "No one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit." Do you want to go to heaven? Well, it doesn't matter how religious you are, or how many rules you keep. You need a new birth; you need to be "born of water and the Spirit." God doesn’t give sponge baths, either. He washes us from head to toe. Paul reflected on his conversion and wrote, "He gave us a good bath, and we came out of it new people, washed inside and out by the Holy Spirit." (Titus 3:5) Your sins don’t stand a chance against the fire hydrant of God's grace and forgiveness.

But God isn’t content to just clean you; he indwells you. God deposits within you "His power, which mightily works." (Col. 1:29) Washing the outside isn't enough for him. He places power on the inside. Stated differently, he places “himself” on the inside. This is the part that stunned Nicodemus because working for God wasn’t new – that’s his job; that’s what he does, or at least that’s what he thought he was doing. But God working in him? “I need to chew on that,” he thinks. And maybe you do, too. Because are you like Nicodemus? Religious as Saint Peter's Basilica, but feeling just as old? Pious, but powerless? If so, remember that when you believe in Christ, Christ works a miracle in you.

"When you believed in Christ, he identified you as his own by giving you the Holy Spirit." (Eph. 1:13) You are permanently purified and empowered by God himself. The message of Jesus to the religious person is simple: It's not what you do, child. It's what I do; I’ve moved in. And then, perhaps in time, you can say with Paul, "I myself no longer live, but Christ lives in me." (Gal. 2:20) But if that’s true, and if we’ve been born again, why do we seem to fall so often? Well, consider your physical birth.

For instance, did you exit the womb wearing cross-trainers? Did you do the moonwalk on the day of your delivery? Of course not. And then when you actually started to walk, you probably fell more than you stood. So, should we expect anything different from our spiritual walk? “But I’ve fallen so often that now I’m even questioning my salvation.” Again, go back to your first birth. Didn't you stumble as you were learning to walk? And when you stumbled, did you begin questioning the validity of your birth? Did you, as a one-year-old, face-first on the floor, prop yourself up and think, “Well, that’s it; I’ve fallen again. I guess I’m not human after all”? No, you didn’t. A toddler’s stumbling doesn’t invalidate the toddler’s physical birth any more than a Christian’s failings invalidate the Christian’s re-birth.

See what he’s done? God, through his Spirit, deposited a Christ seed in you. And as it grows, you will change. It's not that sin has no more presence in your life, but rather that sin has no more power over your life. Temptation will pester you, to be sure, but temptation will not master you. So, to the Nicodemuses of the world, rejoice. It’s not up to you. Within you abides a budding power. So, trust him. Still struggling with this issue? All right, then consider this example.

Imagine that for most of your life you’ve had a heart condition. Your ticker restricts your activities. Each morning at work, when the healthy employees take the stairs, you wait for the elevator. But then comes the transplant. A healthy heart is placed within you. After recovery, you return to work and encounter the same flight of stairs you avoided earlier. By habit, you start for the elevator. But then you remember, “I’m not the same person anymore.” That’s because you have a new heart. Within you dwells a new power. So, there you stand. You have a choice to make, and you might say, "I can't climb the stairs; I'm too weak." But does your choice negate the presence of a new heart, or dismiss the work of your surgeon? No, it doesn’t.

Choosing the elevator would suggest only one thing – that you haven't learned to trust your new power. It takes time. But at some point, you’ll try those stairs. You’ll test that new ticker. You’ll experiment with the new you. Because if you don't, you’ll run out of steam again. That’s why religious rule keeping can sap your strength. It's endless. There’s always another class to attend, another Sabbath command to keep, another holy day to observe. No prison is as endless as the prison of perfection. Its inmates find work, but they never find peace. How could they? They never know when they’re finished.

Christ, however, gifts you with a finished work. He fulfilled the law for you. So, bid farewell to the burden of religion. Gone is the fear that having done everything, you still might not have done enough. You climb the stairs, not by your strength, but by his. And, contrary to Ben Franklin’s 1757 observation in Poor Richard’s Almanac, God pledges to help those who stop trying to help themselves. "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6) God will do with you what I only suggested doing with True: change you from the inside out.

All of this, of course, begs the question of whether you will let him because Jesus didn’t die to start a religion; he died to have a relationship – with you.

Grace,

Randy