I love looking up at the sky on a clear, dark, night and seeing the velvet black canvas dotted with beautiful light but I do not like walking down a dark street alone at night.  I love the warmth and sound of a campfire as the wood pops and crackles but I do not like having to make a run in the dark for the tent or the bathroom.  I don’t like walking into a dark house or room but I love the sound of the house at night when all is dark.  I don’t like waking up when it's still dark, but I like having coffee and quiet before the world gets noisy.  What I have come to realize then is that we can’t have one without the other.  We wouldn’t know it was dark if it wasn’t for light or vice versa.  
Artists capture such truth when they create beautiful images and scenes that would lack detail, depth, and emotion without the contrast or play of light and dark.  Consider your favorite songs.  Some of the best and most meaningful lyrics use the interaction of light and dark to create a poetic and musical connection to life’s most breathtaking and heartbreaking moments.  Light does not cast out darkness, but rather, it reveals to us what we can not see.  It shows us what we stub our toes on or keep stumbling over.   
What would happen if we approached darkness and light with such understanding?  What might we learn or come to appreciate if we recognized a different kind of relationship between darkness and light?  How might our thoughts be stretched, our emotions enhanced, or our souls transformed, if we looked upon darkness as a gift to light and light a gift unto darkness?  
The writer of John gives us a story that invites us to do just that, the story of Lazarus.  The first twelve chapters of John’s gospel are referred to as “the book of signs” and the raising of Lazarus is perched at the pinnacle of these signs.  It is considered the ultimate sign or miracle and it follows six previous signs that are amazing in and of themselves.  That makes the raising of Lazarus, number seven, a number that represents fulfillment or completeness.
Each “sign” or miracle is like the building blocks that make up a bigger story and then the raising of Lazarus, puts a final exclamation mark on one of the most important chapters of Jesus’ ministry; a bold, all caps, impressive font kind of exclamation mark and reveals the fullness of who Jesus is.  This event reveals the totality of the authority, power, purpose, love, imagination, and creativity of God, contained in his one and only son, Jesus. 
 Is it any wonder then, that following this event, the plot to kill Jesus became not just another item toward the bottom of the agenda list, but rather the plot to kill Jesus became THEE agenda of the Pharisees and religious leaders?  The story of Lazarus,  brought together just how powerful, important, and influential Jesus’ message of hope, mercy, and love was, NOT just for a select few, but for all.  It brought to light what was in the darkness that so many could not or would not see.  In turn then, it set in motion the actions that led to the darkest hours to come for Jesus and his closest followers; the arrest, trial, crucifixion, and death of Jesus.  AND it also made way for the most brilliant love light to appear three days later when Jesus rose from the grave. 
It is a message telling us that there are both people who are spiritually dead, in need of new life, and there are times when Jesus’ followers must walk through a metaphorical death.  A time when we recognize something in us must die, or be given fully over to God.  We must enter the darkness and allow the light of Jesus to show us what we cannot see.  We must let go of whatever anger, regret, pain, hatred, bitterness, envy, betrayal, or disappointment that grows within us like an illness and trust that in the darkness; in that tomb-like place, there God is. Other times it might be the death of a dream, a long held idea, practice, or way of doing things.  It might be our pride, ego, or refusal to be wrong that grows within us.   
That process is difficult to bear and difficult to watch.  It is grueling, and metaphorically speaking, like Lazarus; how long was he in the grave and what did Martha say about the smell?  The longer it takes the more it stinks!  It stinks to be dealing with it and probably stinks for anyone who might be in it with us. 
Sitting in the dark, realizing what must symbolically die, working through issues, facing fears, making tough decisions, experiencing pain, seeking truth, holding on, letting go, and existing in everybody's favorite place to be: the unknown.  Who is ready to sign up for that class?  
We are reminded today that it takes time but remembering the words of Jesus, “this darkness is not fatal,” it is just hard.  People of God, we can do hard things.  We already have.  You already have.  AND it will bring glory to a God that is bigger than all of it. 
What happened when poor Lazarus emerged?  What were his family and community to do?  What action has to happen in order for it all to matter and mean something for God’s greater purpose?  If we are the ones outside the grave, outside the darkness and we see, hear, meet, come across, or are presented with someone who has been inside the grave for days, weeks, or even years, what does Jesus tell us?  “Unbind him and let him go.” 
It is our job to unbind and release.   Lazarus didn’t come out dancing, jumping up and down, ready to lead the charge.  I imagine he came out tired, still bound but alive; hesitant but wanting to know what was next;  cautious or wary and needing someone to say “welcome back, here, let me help.”  Jesus tells us it is our job, people of God, to unbind those who emerge from darkness and release them into the new life Jesus has given.   In other words, it is our job, to meet, greet, welcome, and approach the Lazarus’ among us and say, “let me help you - lay down the grave clothes and experience the life Jesus has given you.”  What does that look like here at Grace?  What does that mean to you?  Who are the people walking around you - us in need of someone to come along and unbind them from their pain, sorrow, disappointment; and let them loose to live into the new life Jesus brought them to?  Christ has no hands but ours.  
Whether you feel like a part of you is dying or that something within you must die that you might live more fully, or you are the one standing outside the  grave:
 Lazarus has something to say,
Jesus has life to offer, and
We have work to do.  
May the Love of God guide our steps on this journey of darkness and light.
May the peace of Christ guide our hearts and minds throughout.
May the power & presence of the Holy Spirit bolster our courage to keep on keeping on.
AMEN
Pastor Jenothy Irvine

In the Bible, knowledge is not just about mental cognition or logic. Rather, knowledge is relational, intuitive, imaginative, beautiful, intimate, embodied. The Hebrew word for knowledge, yada, is about sexual union. In other words, knowledge is relational. Knowledge is having eyes to see God’s works.
I can remember how my father who was the head of the math department for years at the University of Southern Indiana would share at times how the professors there would tend to get into conflict with each other over all kinds of things. After a while, I told him that his department sounded like the church I was serving at the time. I guess all that head knowledge did not always translate into relational or spiritual, insight.
With respect to the story of the man born blind, I can’t help but wonder if this might be why so many people are so unhappy! They all think they know what Jesus is doing, but they miss his lovingkindness right toward this man who had been excluded from the community. Indeed, at the end of the passage, the blind man gets kicked out for believing in Jesus.
I also can’t help but wonder if this is what Jesus was getting at when he told Nicodemus that true knowledge of God is about understanding that the Spirit blows where it wills (John 3:8). No one controls what the Spirit does, or whom the Spirit rests upon – whether it is college students at Asbury University, or sanitation workers in Memphis in 1968, or a Jewish carpenter from Nazareth.
The test of faith is not about dismissing outright what the Spirit is doing, but seeking further what the Spirit is up to, for if something is truly of God, it will bring forth good fruit, along with healing which builds up and does not tear down.
How may we receive the Spirit to see what Christ is doing? What are the way we may confess Jesus as the Christ, knowing that there might be risks involved? 

​Pastor Andy Kinsey

I don’t think it is too much of an overstatement to say that when we read the Gospels, we see how there is prejudice toward outsiders. Jesus is always in trouble when he spends time with folks who are thought to be unfaithful, uninformed, uncommitted – e.g., poor, female, outcast, blind, lame, orphaned, leprous, to name a few! Indeed, the great charge against Jesus from insiders was that “He ate with and received sinners.” To which Jesus replied, “The Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.”
          Again, I don’t think I am stating it too strongly when I say that with respect to any church I have served, that there have typically been two types of folks in conservation with Jesus on any given Sunday – insiders and outsiders. The insiders tend to know, or we think we know, a lot about religion; we think we have all the answers. But, as is often depicted in the Gospels, we are the ones who are confused by Jesus, who try to put him in a box, only to be surprised when he uncovers how little we know him.
          On the other hand, the outsiders, like the Samaritan woman at the well, don’t know much about religion, which is not a bad thing; and they don’t know how the church works, again not a bad thing. Indeed, sometimes outsiders can feel as if they are inadequate, or second-rate, because of insiders like us.
          This is strange because the Gospels bend over backwards to show that Jesus seeks out and leans toward people on the edges. In fact, I don’t think it is too far off base to say that if we are to judge a church biblically, we are to do so by how many outsiders it gathers to worship on a Sunday. If, when we come to worship, and we have nothing but people like me as an insider, then we are not the church that Jesus gathers, at least according to the New Testament.
          How might we share in God’s mission to seek out, welcome, and share Christ’s mercy? What kind of people do we need to be to engage in conversation with persons who might not see how we are to love God and neighbor? 

​Pastor Andy Kinsey

Why would anyone ever want or choose to be born again?  It’s a process and nobody enjoys the process of much of anything whether it's getting a cavity filled at the dentist or the paperwork for purchasing a car.  It’s painful.  One word: contractions!  It’s messy.  You’ve seen the documentaries and zoo videos.  You’ve been on the farm.  Birth is messy no matter what the animal. It involves a lot of things happening all at the same time. It’s emotional.  Everything from joy, wonder, and excitement to fear, anger, and bewilderment arise.  It takes everything you got.  Your energy, strength, determination, grit, and stamina.  You can’t do it alone.  At the very least there is always the one birthing and the one being birthed!  

In John 3:4-6 a man named Nicodemus asks Jesus one of the most theologically challenging and debated questions of all time:  “How can I be born again?”  Nicodemus was a Pharisee - meaning he took a pledge that he would spend his life observing every detail of the Hebrew Scriptures,  The Pharisees believed the Law was the perfect word of God.  To add or take away from it was a deadly sin.  They believed the Law contained everything a person needed to know for the living of a good life, if not explicitly, then implicitly. If it was implicit then it was the Pharisees who determined what the word of God meant.  It was their life’s work to interpret and enforce the letter of the Law.  In all of their interpreting and enforcing however, the Pharisees turned the overarching principles meant to establish community and sustain a sense of purpose and order within the community, and created a massive list of legalistic bylaws and regulations for everything.

Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin, which was the high court of the Jewish community. The Sanhedrin had religious jurisdiction over every Jew in the world; and one of its duties was to examine and deal with anyone suspected of being a false prophet; anyone challenging or changing what they established as law.  Guess who was at the top of their list? Jesus. Nicodemus was most likely from a distinguished Jewish family; an elite Jewish aristocrat if you will.  He knew people who knew people and had people who had people.  Nicodemus was wealthy - we discover in John 19:39 that when Jesus died it was Nicodemus who brought a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes to prepare Jesus’ body. Something not just anyone could afford.  In other words Nicodemus had it all.  He was smart, educated, financially stable, socially established, respected, and well known, AND YET with all that, it is believed that something must have been missing for him to feel so strongly about going to see Jesus. 

Nicodemus represents an age-old human struggle: the desire and awareness of a person who longs to change but who cannot change on their own or of their own accord.  We can almost hear Nicodemus saying to Jesus with a yearning in his voice, “I know that change is necessary; but in my experience it is impossible. All that I know - all that I practiced - in all that I have come to know - there are no written laws, regulations, or bylaws telling me how to do it - how to change and be transformed. Tell me how Jesus!  There is nothing I would like more, but you might as well tell me, a full grown man, to enter into the mother’s womb and be born all over again. “

Nicodemus was stuck.  Stuck in that place where what was and what is not yet holds a tension between his head and heart and creates a tug-of-war.  He was stuck in the place of saying goodbye to that part of his old self; the part that served him well, brought him through to that point in his life, had given him meaning and direction but now was no longer enough or perhaps it hadn’t been enough for a long time.  He was stuck inside a box that wouldn’t allow him the grace to consider what Jesus was offering him. This was Nicodemus’ goodbye / hello moment.   

I imagine we have all been there- stuck in those old patterns, ideas, or behaviors.  Stuck with what we have always known, always done, and always pursued even if it left us wanting more.  Stuck knowing something needed to change but afraid to let go of what we know and reach for what we don’t know. Stuck knowing we needed to say goodbye to that which limited our experience and connection with God and hello to that which expanded our experience and connection with God.   Goodbye old self - hello to new birth.  

Lent is that place of goodbye and hello. Nicodemus teaches us that there are times when it is necessary to say goodbye to our old self - to who we were or who we thought we were.  Goodbye to who we thought we needed to be or who others thought we needed and expected us to be, and hello to who we are in Christ.   There are times when we need to say goodbye to what we were convinced was right or what we thought to be true and hello to a deeper understanding of how the Holy Spirit works.  It is by the Spirit we are made new (born again) and our faith is made stronger, more resilient, and more complete.   

This change that happens is what Jesus was talking about.  It is the metaphorical birthing process, and being born is hard work.  It is often painful, frightening, disorienting, emotional and messy work.  True change - true rebirth of self is the work of you and the Holy Spirit.  There may be a few of us along the way to help, but at its core, it is you and the Holy Spirit.  By ourselves we can be nothing more than what we are - human; limited by our own thoughts and emotions; bound by what others say, think, or do; captive to the fear of the unknown or fear of change and yet longing for more.  We are impatient, often frustrated, disheartened, and discontent.  But the very essence of the Spirit of God is love and life and that energy force of Divine Love cannot be contained by any system, regulation, institution, bylaw, demand, expectation, or box we or anyone else tries to fit it in.  That was the invitation extended to Nicodemus and now to us: to allow the Spirit of God, not the spirit of self or the spirit of legalism to birth something new within.  

It’s hard work being born.  I wonder, what is the Spirit of God birthing in you?  Will you stay the course this Lent and find out?   May it be so. 

​Pastor Jenothy Irvine