Adjusting the hood of his garment to shadow more of his face, he furtively peeked down the alleyway. Empty. Good. Quickly slipping around the corner, he pressed his back and palms against the side of the building and sucked in a deep breath. His heart raced at breakneck speed. To his own ears, his breathing was rapid and ragged and raging. Every exhalation seemed to bounce around the lane in a resounding echo alerting passersby to his secret quest. Inhaling yet another gulp of stale air, he gathered his courage, pushed away from the wall and stepped again toward his destination. A man on a mission. A scholar in search of answers. A Pharisee in a predicament.
It was such a risky adventure. The cost of discovery steep. Everything was on the line. His social standing. His place in the temple. His credibility as a scholar. His colleagues would never understand what he was doing. Or why. He wasn’t entirely certain himself. This behavior was all new to him. He was unaccustomed to sneaking down alleys under cover of darkness, clad in hooded garments, peeking around corners and scurrying across streets to attend clandestine meetings in hopes of finding answers to his myriad burgeoning questions. Full disclosure? This whole mission was uncomfortable, running cross grain with everything he thought he knew about himself, his religion, his eternity.
Not so long past, he’d have staunchly stated absolute truths concerning each of those things. He knew exactly who he was, what he believed, how he should act, and where he’d spend eternity. Yet today, he’d looked at himself in the mirror, mind swarming with questions, and realized he knew nothing he thought he’d known. The teachings and miracles of Jesus upended everything. Everything he’d been taught. Everything he’d read. Everything he thought he knew. In light of the things he had seen and heard, affluent, intelligent, prominent Nicodemus was suddenly inundated with questions. Urgent questions. Demanding questions. Desperate questions had him swathing himself in disguise and stealing across town in the dark to find answers from the only One who could possibly have them.
Jesus’ lack of surprise by the late-night caller comes as no shock. Of course he knew Nicodemus was coming! Closing the door soundly behind him, Jesus didn’t miss Nicodemus’ exhale of relief or his quick inhale of courage. It was answer time and Nicodemus was apparently on a schedule. In precise terms, he laid out what he knew. Jesus was a great teacher, clearly sent by God. His miraculous works could be attributed to no other power. Yet, in spite of all he knew, everything he’d deduced, everything he hoped, Nicodemus also knew he was missing something. Something big. Something important. Something more. Something his decades of study, education, and rote recitation of laws and rules, rites, and ceremonies had clearly failed to extract. Something his longing heart desperately needed to know. Something only Jesus could tell him.
Incredulous, Nicodemus sat listening to the words flowing from Jesus’ mouth. He felt bewildered. Confused. He’d never heard things like this before. In all his studies, not one time had he heard anything about rebirth. How was that even possible? And how could a human, already born to earthly parents, be born of the spirit? And what, exactly, did the wind have to do with it? Scrubbing his hands over his face in frustrated despair at his inability to understand the heavenly knowledge being dropped on him, Nicodemus’ nearly defeated soul must surely have battered him with hypotheses. Perhaps this had been a wasted journey. Maybe his questions were destined to go unanswered. Perhaps he’d never comprehend what he was missing. Just as his beleaguered heart was teetering on the edge of calling it a night sans answers, his soul snapped to attention as the illuminating words of Jesus washed over him. Words with no hidden nuances. Words so full of love and compassion and grace they nearly brought him to his knees. Words that would forever be indelibly etched in the minds and hearts of wandering souls through the centuries to follow. Words that simply read like this, “For God so loved the world, He gave His only Son, that whosoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:1-16)
If comprehension could be heard in an audible click, it would have resounded for miles around. There it was. The missing thing. The piece he needed to fill his soul. The answer for which he had furtively glanced around corners and tiptoed through alleys in the dark of night. The one thing he’d risked his position in the temple, his social standing, his entire life to find. The knowledge that made all other knowledge pale in comparison. The promise of eternal life for eternally dead humanity. All of them. Whoever believes. Pharisees. Sadducees. Jews. Gentiles. Holy rollers and hellions, alike. Everyone. Everywhere. No exceptions. The grandeur of grace!
Had Jesus ended His speaking with those words alone, it would have been enough for Nicodemus. It would be enough for us! The case for Christ was already made. The explanation of Who Jesus was and what His mission entailed was already given. Yet Jesus felt it so important to double down and boldly underscore to this fervent law keeping, Sabbath observing, tithe paying Pharisee that eternal life would be available to everyone. Sabbath-breakers. Law benders. Money hoarders. The love of God for lost humanity transcends all those things and reaches down to rescue anyone, everyone. Whosoever believes. Jesus didn’t come to judge your ability to keep the Pharisaical black book of rules and regulations. He didn’t come to point the finger of condemnation at those who failed. He came to offer salvation from condemnation. Because, to those who have placed their faith in Jesus Christ, there is absolutely no condemnation in Heaven’s courts. (John 3:17-18; Romans 8:1)
I wonder how long Nicodemus sat there mute, absorbing everything he’d just heard. John didn’t see the need to record it, so it probably isn’t important. It seems he would have sat for quite some time pondering the truths that had fallen from Jesus’ lips to his ears. I know I would have. I do. It seems so incredible. Nearly too good to be true. It is so much easier to believe Jesus came to condemn and correct, to judge and punish. He’s God, after all! Perfect. Holy. Sinless. Blameless. Maybe you have no trouble measuring up to that, but I do! Knowing all I know about Jesus, having read the entire Bible over and over again, after years of attending church and Bible study, it still takes an enormous amount of faith to look at myself and imagine grace so great it completely obliterates the epic messes I’ve made. The very thought leaves me speechless, my heart staggered, my soul stunned. How grand is His grace!
You see, no matter what you’ve heard or been taught or thought you knew, Jesus didn’t come to shake a bony, judgmental finger under your nose and glare down in consternation at your unkempt life. He didn’t take a look at the debacle of your past and hold out a conditional offer of salvation good only after you cleaned up your act. No. Jesus came to people entrenched in ugly, disastrous sin, reached down his hand and offered a way out of their obvious, impending eternal demise. He came to offer a way out of destructive lifestyles, detrimental devices, and deteriorating choices. He came to bring light. Light to illuminate our darkness and open our eyes to the grandeur of His grace. Undeserved. Unmerited. Unwarranted. Unlimited. Grace. God’s grace. Grace that covers the mountain of poor choices, indiscretions, and outright deviances you’ve committed. Grace that, even when the whole world knows you deserve Hell, offers you the opportunity of Heaven. That, my friend, is the grandeur of grace. And it is all for you. (Romans 5:20-21; John 12:47; Psalm 103:10; Job 11:6)
You are the reason Jesus came. You are the reason God sent His only Son to be brutally violated and hung on a cross. You. With all your baggage and hangups and devices. You. Steeped in willful sin. You. Filthy, dirty, broken by the evil things that hold you in their grip. Yes, you! God looked down, saw you there, crushed under the weight of burdens far heavier than you could bear, and, forcing back tears of pain and loss, He sent His only Son to earth so you could be offered the opportunity to drop those burdens at the cross and be saved. It’s amazing love. It’s the grandest gesture of grace. And it’s completely free. (Luke 19:10; Titus 2:11; Acts 10:43; Ephesians 2:8)
When your sin demanded punishment, Jesus came. Not to dole out condemnation. Not to stare down His nose at you in disgust. Not to determine if you were worth the effort. No. Jesus didn’t come for condemnation, but for reconciliation. You don’t deserve it. You couldn’t earn it. God doesn’t owe it to you, yet still He sent His Son to make you an offer you should surely think twice about before you refuse. Salvation for people who deserve condemnation. Unmerited favor lavished on unworthy humanity. Redeeming love. Fathomless mercy. Grand grace. And whosoever will may come. (Romans 10:13; Acts 2:21; John 4:14; II Corinthians 5:18; Colossians 1:19-20)
Thank You, Jesus for mercy and grace!