Which Way the Wind Blows
John 3:1-17
Today, I turn 56 years old. Today, I also celebrate the 30th anniversary of my ordination as an elder in the United Methodist Church. Today, I gather with you to worship God, and that is the most important thing we have to celebrate today and every Sunday.
Birthdays and anniversaries are natural times for reflection. They are times to ask, “Where have we been, where are we going, how did we get here?” Those are useful questions to ask all the time, of course, particularly when we consider our walk with Jesus. I want to share with you just a few markers on my faith journey this morning.
When I was about 20 years old, I went on my first retreat with people who didn’t know me. It was a retreat for young United Methodist singles, sponsored by the Kansas City South District of the Missouri West Conference. We met in a home at Lake Lotawana, and we did the usual retreat things. There were ice breakers, group building activities, Bible study, and worship.
One of the activities was deciding what we wanted it to say on our tombstone. Everyone came up with something, and the responses were fairly typical for that kind of group. If I remember correctly, mine was something like “Chief of all sinners, redeemed by Jesus.” I just borrowed a line used by John and Charles Wesley for that. But it was what I added after that line that kind of freaked the other people on the retreat. I added two dates: “born 1956, died 2012.”
Twenty-somethings, it seems, don’t like to think about death. And even though we were talking about what we wanted on our tombstone, in their minds this exercise had nothing to do with death but with how they intended to live. Their inscriptions were about energy and anticipated accomplishments, not about how it all has to end.
Unlike the others, I had already thought a lot about death. Both of my grandfathers had died at the age of 56, after multiple heart attacks. My father was still living at that time, but he had already had two of his eventual 8 heart attacks before he died at age 54. That would be enough to get me thinking about my own death, but there was also the story my mother told me over and over again.
When I was about a year old, I had an infection. When my mother took me to the doctor, he reportedly said that I had less than 24 hours to live. My hunch is that he also said something like “if the infection is not treated,” but that was never part of the story as my mother told it. For her, my living was a sign that God had something special in mind for me, and it was my responsibility to be someone special. No pressure there – I didn’t just have to worry about disappointing my mother, I now had to worry about disappointing God.
I figured the best way to not disappoint God was to find out what God wanted me to do. I had to depend on God to tell me what was right and what was wrong. So I went to Sunday school and worship every Sunday. When I was 4 years old, my mother would walk me the two blocks to church, but when she quit going, I walked by myself. This continued when I was 8 years old and we moved a mile away from the church – I still walked by myself to church and Sunday school every Sunday.
It was there that I learned that I needed to conform my life to Christ. I learned to ask “what would Jesus do?” and the importance of doing it. I learned that following Jesus meant caring about others, and serving others, and giving your time for others, and doing your best for others. Following Jesus was all about character. And while I wasn’t by any measure perfect, I tried my best to be my best. This may explain why I was an acolyte and then a liturgist in worship. I sang in the church choir, was president of the youth group, and for a year was vice chairperson of the administrative council. This trying to do my best spilled over into other areas of my life, as I earned both the God and Country Award and the rank of Eagle in Boy Scouts, was editor of the school paper, was the drum major for the marching band, and was the top math and science student as selected by the faculty of the high school.
Throughout all this, I was still trying to decide what was the special purpose that I was supposed to fulfill, since God had allowed me to live. And the confirmation that came up most often was that I was supposed to become a medical missionary. I was supposed to go to medical school, get training at a seminary, and then go serve somewhere like Africa, or Central America, or the Appalachian mountains. Because I was allowed to live, I was to help others live. It was faithful, it was needed, and I seemed to have the ability to make it happen.
It was about that time that I received the only nickname I have ever had – at least, the only one ever used to my face! I had some friends who called me “Nicodemus.” I am sure it was based more on the similarity to my given name, but it fit in many other ways, as well.
Nicodemus was raised to be absolutely sure about everything. There was a right way, and a wrong way, to do everything. There was a right way to worship God, and a wrong way to worship God. There was a right way to pray, and a wrong way to pray. There was a right way to be forgiven, and a wrong way to be forgiven. Nicodemus depended on God for everything he did.
Nicodemus could be absolutely sure about what was right and what was wrong because it was all spelled out for him, and for all the Pharisees, in the 613 laws that the Pharisees followed. Faith in God meant being absolutely sure that keeping these laws was the one right way to live. Breaking any of those laws, for whatever reason – even if it was a good reason, was absolutely the wrong thing to do.
Nicodemus had been committed to this absolutely certain lifestyle. He had done well enough at being certain that he became a member of the Sanhedrin, a member of the ruling religious class. He was a member of the council that decided what is the “one right answer” whenever disputes arose among the people. Being absolutely sure had served Nicodemus well.
Yet, by the time of our reading, something has happened in the life of Nicodemus, and now he is not so sure about anything absolutely. It may have been nothing more than being conscientious in his duties as part of the Sanhedrin. It may not have taken long for Nicodemus to realize that the people who came before the Sanhedrin kept trying to equate the “one right answer of God” to the “one right answer that benefits me.”
I understand that conflict. I was absolutely sure that what God wanted me to do – what God had saved me to do – was to be a medical missionary. I was so sure about this that I was even telling God that this is what God wanted me to do. The problem was I had never asked God if this is what God wanted me to do. I didn’t have any confidence that God knew more about me than I did. So I found myself arguing with God about what I was supposed to be doing.
Arguing with God is something a lot of us do. It can even be an important part of our faith journey. The name “Israel” means “one who struggles with God.” Many of the psalms question God’s plan and direction. The disciples often questioned Jesus, and not just to gain a clearer understanding, but because they thought he was wrong about some things. Their questions identified those obstacles in their faith that had to be removed.
To be in an authentic relationship means we have to deal with each other in finding the common ground. We know that, and we know that we are to have a relationship with God – but we forget that our relationship with God is not quite like our relationships with others. With God, it is not so much about finding common ground, but about us learning to stand on holy ground.
James Weldon Johnson wrote a poem he titled, “The Prodigal Son.” It was published in his 1927 book of poems, “God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse.” The poem begins very simply: “Young man – Young man – Your arm’s too short to box with God.” James Weldon Johnson could have stopped right there, because it clearly makes the point that we can’t win a fight with God. It doesn’t matter how right we think we are, or how much support we think we have, or how clearly our position makes sense. When it comes right down to it, the only victory to be found is in accepting God’s side of the argument.
There comes a point when we are arguing with God that we have to realize this. And it seems to me that there are only two choices we can make when we get to that point. One, we can declare our self the winner, and then walk away from God. That is a choice that many people make. We make this choice when we are absolutely sure that we are right and everyone who disagrees with us is absolutely wrong. We walk away from God because we believe that we have bested God, who must now agree with us.
Or, two, we can humble our self and pray, “Thy will be done.” I know we say those words every week, but it is rare when we really pray them. It is rare because that is the scary choice. It is the choice that says, “I give up. God wins.” It becomes less scary when we have confidence in the Holy Spirit. It then becomes the choice that says, “Whatever you want God, I will do.” It is the choice that says “Wherever you send God, I will go.” It is the choice that says, “Whatever you need God, I will give.”
That is the choice that Jesus offered to Nicodemus when he said to him, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” To pray “thy will be done” is to allow the Spirit to move in you and through you, not always knowing when it may blow or where it might take you. To pray “thy will be done” is to receive that new life from above, a life of confidence in the Holy Spirit.
One day, as I was sitting under a tree on campus during my sophomore year at the university, that was my prayer. I conceded my arm was too short. I was tired of fighting with God. “Thy will be done.” And it was in that moment that I received my calling to enter the ordained ministry. Tex Sample once said that dealing with a call to ministry is a lot like throwing up. You try to fight it, but there comes a time when you have to deal with it, and you feel so much better when you have! And he was right. I found peace with God, based in a confidence that the Spirit was with me. And that started me on a path to seminary and through the annual conference that lead to my ordination as an elder 30 years ago today. I have heard the sound of the Spirit blowing, and it has taken me on a journey that will surely lead to heaven.
Today is Trinity Sunday, a time when we affirm again that the complete faith of an altogether Christian recognizes the three persons of the one God, and their importance in our faith journey. We are to depend on God. We are to conform our lives to Christ. And we are to have confidence in the Holy Spirit. Trinity Sunday is when we affirm that without these three, we are not fully Christian.
If we do not depend on God, then we are living as practical atheists. If we do not conform to Christ, then we are, in the words of John Wesley, “self-willed, inordinate lovers of ourselves, thinking highly of our own attainments, desirous of the praise of others, yet easily provoked and swift to return evil for evil.” And if we do not have confidence in the Holy Spirit, we are then living as Heathens, who have the form of godliness but not its power. We may not be doing anything that the gospel forbids; we may act in genuine sincerity about what we believe, doing what the gospel commands; but if we are without the assurance of the Holy Spirit that our sins are forgiven, we are Heathens still. A holy relationship with God means that we depend on God, conform our lives to Christ, and that we have confidence in the Holy Spirit.
At that retreat so many years ago, I was asked what would happen if I got to live past my 56th birthday. I told them I was sure I would get over the disappointment of being wrong about the date, and would continue to try and live as faithfully as I could for as long as I could. Or, to borrow the words of Isaac Watts, “I’ll praise my maker while I’ve breath.” Won’t you stand and join me in praising our God?
#60 “I’ll Praise My Maker While I’ve Breath”