John 3 - Preacher's Commentary

An Encounter and an Affirmation

John 3:1–36

The central issue that has been raised in public settings—at a small-town wedding and a national celebration—is stated clearly and convincingly in a probing personal encounter. If one is to enter the “New Age,” the kingdom of God, he must be cleansed as was the temple at Jerusalem and empowered from above as new wine was made at Cana. He must be “born again.”

3:1-21

Nicodemus: You Must Be Born Again

The Man at Night (vv. 1–2). How fascinating that a member of the “Who’s Who of Jerusalem” should seek out Jesus, a rustic itinerant preacher. Could He have anything in common with Nicodemus, a man with impeccable credentials? John describes Nicodemus as “a man of the Pharisees,” which meant he was one of the separated ones, an elite lay theologian dedicated to studying and living out every jot and tittle of the law and “a ruler of the Jews,” meaning he was a member of the Sanhedrin, that exclusive council which controlled the religious life of Israel.

Nicodemus had come because of all that had been going on. He said, “No one can do these things that You do unless God is with him.” The dramatic cleansing of the temple and the works that followed had created quite a stir. Surely these happenings had become common gossip on the streets of Jerusalem. There is a humility in the way he comes. He addresses Jesus as “Rabbi,” a title of respect he would use only because he believed he could learn something from this new teacher.

He came “by night.” Was he ashamed or fearful to be seen with Jesus by day? Or were there too many people clamoring for Jesus’ attention by day? Perhaps if there were to be any chance for an honest, uninterrupted conversation it would have to be at night. But the night is also a time of darkness. And is this not where Nicodemus was living? In darkness. Even though he affirms that God must be with Jesus, he is ignorant.

Nicodemus says, “we know.” He seems to be speaking for more than himself. Nicodemus may have come to voice some of the questions being raised by a group within the Sanhedrin. By what authority was Jesus doing these things? What was His purpose? Did He have some new truth to reveal? Nicodemus is speaking for men who were not falsely complimentary about what Jesus had been doing.

Earthly Birth and New Birth (vv. 3–7). Jesus responds to Nicodemus’s friendly statement by coming directly to the heart of the matter. He does not waste time on peripheral issues. His statement, “Most assuredly,” at the outset calls for careful, single minded attention. Nicodemus’s destiny will hang on how he hears and answers what Jesus will now say. “I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Only Jesus has the authority to make this categorical, uncompromising statement! Once again Jesus has used a basic earthly category—human birth—to illuminate a profound spiritual reality.

“Born again”! The phrase is arresting and fresh, alive with meaning. Another chance, starting over, new life! Is it possible? That is exactly what Jesus is saying.

In our age, which has vulgarized so many great realities, we have tossed these words about as if they were simply another fad, a chic “in” phrase to be bandied about at some cocktail party. “You say he was born again. How delightful!” Even in church circles, sad to say, the words have become shopworn and jaded, part of our professional jargon, sapped of their original radical meaning.

But this was not the case with Nicodemus. He is brought up short, baffled, and confused. This is not what he expected. “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” How else can he respond? In spite of all his religious knowledge and living by the levitical code, he is locked in flesh. He can only understand from an earthly perspective. Nicodemus can “move only within a world of categories and interests circumscribed by itself. Flesh builds its own prison and trivializes its own mysteries.”¹ Thus, hemmed in, Nicodemus can only phrase his wondering response in fleshly terms.

His response makes earthly sense. How can anyone who is physically mature start over again within his mother’s womb? Surely one cannot undo forty or fifty years of physical growth. And if this is true physically, then how much more difficult it is to start over in the moral and spiritual realm. Is not each one of us the sum total of all his experiences, good and bad, at any stage of life? Surely we cannot wipe that all out and say that now we will start over. Have all these years of study and zealous obedience to the law been in vain for Nicodemus?

Ah, but this new birth is not an intensified continuation of old ways, a deepened interpretation of the law, or a more urgent effort to obey the levitical code. The jars of purification at Cana and the temple worship in Jerusalem have had their day.

No, this is a “new beginning,” a starting over again. This is new life given by God Himself, a breaking in of His grace, a supernatural act bringing forth a new creation. Just as a human birth is a mystery, but a very specific reality, so there is a deeper mystery and reality about spiritual birth. Physical life is born through the intimacy of human love shared by male and female in which there is the union of egg and sperm. But there is also a spiritual act of divine grace in which God gives Himself to a particular person, who, in receiving Him, is born anew. It is in the union of the divine and the human, the supernatural and the natural, the heavenly and the earthly, that new life comes.

This newborn person now understands a new order of being, the kingdom of God. He has been given new eyes and a new heart to apprehend what it means to be a member of a new family, a child of God living in joyful obedience to the Father’s will. Nicodemus had never grasped that reality, even though he carefully studied the meaning of the law of Moses with the other Pharisees. The reign of God, His gracious rule over all life, can never be outwardly known, for an order that is essentially spiritual cannot be understood with natural powers.

Well over a hundred Southeast Asians have come to be a part of our church family, and what joy they have brought into our congregational life. One in particular is Mr. Nou, a gifted man with many leadership qualities. What a beautiful experience it was a few weeks ago to hear him share the meaning of the new life God had given him. In his “old life” he had frequently beaten his wife and children, often neglecting them while he was “partying with other women” as he put it. His weekends were often drunken orgies. Coming to the United States as a refugee from Laos did not change his situation. In fact, it worsened it!

He finally gave in to one of his persistent friends who almost angered him by constantly urging him to come with him to church. At first, it was all a joke for Mr. Nou. But then, in God’s mysterious way, he met the One to whom Nicodemus came at night. It was a radical, life-changing encounter, and Mr. Nou was “born again.” He emptied the whiskey bottles in his home and began to treat his wife and children with new love and respect. Then he discovered new friends among the believers and began to eagerly study the Scriptures at 5:00 each morning. What a joy to hear him speak about all the spiritual truths he has already discovered in the Word of God. His wife said, “I don’t have a different husband. I have a new one.”

As he shared that day with our congregation, there was a radiant joy about him. No wonder Mr. Nou has become a contagious evangelist among his own people, going to their homes, sharing the good news of what has happened to him, and inviting them to church. When I spoke to him commending him for this he seemed surprised. “Isn’t that what all of us are supposed to be doing? How could anyone hold back such a good thing?”

So the new birth is not some experience added to our old way of thinking or acting. We have had far too much of this in our churches—people living the old life, ignorant like Nicodemus. They may go through the motions of religion, but there is no reality in it. We have asked people to repeat the “right words,” and we have been running in circles, doing things, taking on more projects, and desperately trying to behave “right.” But at the center of existence, in their deepest selves, people have been untouched and unchanged. Then we have covered up the old, unconverted self with churchly language. We say, “Of course, he was baptized.” “Yes, she’s been a member here for over twenty years.” “You know what a great job she’s done handling that committee.” “They are about the best givers we have.” And all the time, many of these people are empty and needy, spiritually bankrupt. Little wonder much of what we do in the church is unredeemed and ego-centered.

Nicodemus can now only ask wonderingly, “How can a man be born when he is old?” And again Jesus responds, “Most assuredly.” Nicodemus is still pushing in, and Jesus will give him all he can handle. The new birth is by water. Just as John’s baptism was a plunging under, a cleansing, so it is if Nicodemus really wants to enter the kingdom. Unless he dares to let go of his morality and learning and will pass through the humiliation and helplessness of repentance, he cannot be born from above. Neither can we.

But there is more than water. The new birth is also by “the Spirit.” The Hebrew word for the Spirit is ruach, translated “the intimate breath of God,” and the Greek is pneuma, “the wind of His Spirit.” The One by whose creative breath every person becomes a living soul also shares His life-changing Spirit with all who will receive. Here is the power from above that liberates and makes all things new.

After being born of water and of the Spirit, we “enter the kingdom,” we come into a new dimension of existence. This birth is not an individualistic affair, but a corporate, bodily, family event. We are now under the Father’s authority and protection. It is as when the children of Israel crossed over the Jordan River on dry land, by an act of God, to enter the land of promise. Or it is like becoming the citizens of a new country joining a new people and swearing allegiance to a new flag. We “enter” a new land.

In verse 7, Jesus confronts Nicodemus directly and personally: “You must be born again.” Not someone else, but you, Nicodemus, who are so studiously seeking to learn and obey the law. The birth from above is not a general spiritual doctrine to be endlessly discussed, but a specific imperative that addresses this particular man in the depth of his being. So it is with us! The claim of Jesus comes to each of us this way—personally and directly—to the very center of our existence.

A Mystery: As Wind Blows (v. 8). Birth from above cannot be manipulated or programmed. It is a gift given in God’s own way and time, an act of sovereign grace. It is a birth as mysterious as the wind, which comes and goes as it wills. Unseen, yet real! Again, Jesus has used a common, earthy reality to illuminate spiritual truth. He has spoken of birth, then water, and now wind. This breath of God brings life, not capriciously, but according to His gracious purpose.

There is a mystery about God’s working which we can only anticipate and prepare for. He is the One who moves when He wills! I have learned much about this from sailing. There are times of fresh, stiff winds when it is exhilarating to move out and the boat heels up. Sometimes gentle breezes suddenly give way to unexpected gusts, which can challenge the best sailor. And other times there is a deadly calm when all one can do is wait. So it is in the life of the Spirit. Upon Him, who is the source of the Breath, we are utterly dependent for life and movement.

“How can these things be?” (vv. 9–13). There must have been a long, wondering pause before Nicodemus asked Jesus the question in verse 9. A conversation of this depth cannot be hurried. One can almost hear the gentle sounds of the wind blowing in the still of the night. Once again, Nicodemus can only ask “How?” Even though he is a “teacher of Israel,” he is imprisoned in fleshly existence. The flesh does not understand the “things of the Spirit.” Have you ever heard a religious leader, a theological professor, or a pastor quoting and interpreting Bible verses as an expert, but speaking of them as a stranger, an outsider, alien to their inner meaning?

There is a note of sadness in Jesus’ response in verse 10. How can Nicodemus be a teacher of Israel and yet not know these things? Nicodemus’s being a religious leader is like the blind leading the blind. What Jesus has shared with him is not sophisticated doctrine. These are the ABCs, and if Nicodemus cannot grasp these truths taught through simple, earthly symbols, there is no way he can ever understand and accept the deeper realities. It is only as we pass through the narrow door of the new birth that our eyes are opened to apprehend deeper spiritual realities.

However, these beginning truths of the kingdom are not out of reach. They have been understood and accepted by others, with far less theological training than Nicodemus. The “We” in verse 11 indicates that the testimony of Jesus has been authenticated. The identity of Jesus and His message has been grasped and entered into by others—John the Baptist who “knew” at Jesus’ baptism, the first disciples who had “come and seen” and followed. Among them is John, the writer of this Gospel. They had become witnesses.

No one can climb up and take these heavenly truths by force, either by learning or feverish obedience to the law. It is only Jesus who can reveal the secrets of the kingdom of heaven to any eager seeker, because He shares about His “home.” Even while He is the Son of man in flesh on earth, He is in heaven. It is when we accept Him, are born into His kingdom, that the realities in which He lives are shared with us. Heavenly things are made clear then. Otherwise we stumble in fleshly darkness.

Descent to Be Lifted Up (vv. 14–15). Now to further clarify His own identity and the meaning of His coming down from heaven, Jesus refers to a peculiar incident in the life of Moses. Near the end of the years of wandering in the wilderness and shortly before they entered the promised land, the children of Israel once again murmured in their unbelief. So the Lord sent fiery serpents among them that brought disease and death. Then the people repented and cried out, “We have sinned.” Again Moses interceded for them as he had so many times. The Lord then offered salvation through a strange provision. He commanded Moses to make a fiery serpent of bronze and to hang it on a pole. The people who had been bitten and were sick unto death could be healed only by lifting up their eyes and looking at that serpent. They would be saved by an act of faith (Num. 21:4–9). Then God spared them!

So the Son of Man has come to be lifted up on a pole. This One who sits with Nicodemus has made His descent into flesh and in obedience will die. This amazing and costly sacrifice calls forth the response of faith. Whoever will behold with eyes of faith will be given everlasting life and will not languish and die in the wilderness. This is God’s amazing provision for our salvation.

The Decision: Belief or Condemnation (vv. 16–21). We can see in these verses that the lifting up of the Son of Man is an act of love. The act is not an afterthought or a last-minute emergency plan. Love is central to the very nature of God, reaching out to all who are unlovely and sick, like those dying Israelites, like Nicodemus, and like us sinners. That love is not selective or discriminating. It is universal, with no limitations. God comes to the whole world in love.

Love is never passive. It is the very nature of love to give the best and not hold back. And the gift is unique, “the only begotten.” The greater the object of love, the more costly the gift. “Any old thing” is not good enough. That would not be love.

The invitation is as wide as God’s heart—“whoever believes.” He will not cheapen the terms, or He would not be true to Himself. We can only accept the invitation by trust, faith, submission. It has been that way with God since the beginning.

The gift is everlasting: “a life consistent with the age to come. This life is not an endless duration of being in time, but being of which time is not a measure.”² This is life with God that is limitless; it is quality, not quantity. Our final destiny is life, not death. But the word “perish” is here because those who do not look or believe are condemned. They refuse to accept God’s great gift and so must go on without the gift. The judgment then is to remain in their present state.

Here is the great paradox, the two-edged meaning of Jesus’ coming. He came in love to save, to heal, and to offer spiritual birth. He did not come to condemn or judge. But His coming sharpens the issue. Now we must decide! There is both wondrous possibility and great peril in Nicodemus’s coming to Jesus. If he chooses to lay aside all his preconceived ideas and learning and accepts Jesus as the One who has come down from heaven, he will be born again! But if he chooses to turn aside, to leave, to work out his own salvation by his own stubborn efforts, however noble, he stands under condemnation and will perish.

Here is the mystery of evil, that darkness which keeps each of us from accepting the great gift, that rebellious pride which will not allow us to go through the water of repentance and receive the empowering of the Spirit. There is an egocentricity in each of us that constantly insists I can work out my own salvation. It is the cross, the lifting up of the Son of Man, that finally unmasks this ego and thus becomes the agent of discrimination and judgment (1 Cor. 1:18).

In our deeds, our rejection is revealed most clearly. When the light comes into the world, we love darkness rather than light because our deeds are evil. John does not mince words. He says that men hate the light because they do not want their deeds exposed.

On the other hand, the one who accepts and believes, reveals the fact by obeying (v. 21). He does the truth. His discipleship cannot be divided into words and deeds, for they are one. (Here again we see the Word, the life of Jesus, made flesh through the obedience of the disciples.) It is through their obedience that they come to the light. Jesus is lifted up through the transparence of their lives. This can only be done “in God,” because the disciples have been born again.

The deepest experiences of renewal I have witnessed in the life of the church have come when people have opened up and revealed the dark, hidden places in their lives to one another. This always is a costly, cleansing experience in which the light is seen. Doing the truth!

I participated in such an experience this last year at a strong evangelical seminary. A student stood up in a time of sharing and in a trembling, emotion-laden voice spoke of his anger and frustration with one of the professors and then asked for his forgiveness. The professor, who was present, moved toward the student. They met and embraced. There was forgiveness and prayer. This opened up the meeting, which turned out to be a time of confession and healing, a true renewal in the Spirit. It was the light exposing the darkness of bad attitudes and fouled up relationships.

This is the opposite of rejection, an acceptance, a “believing in His name.”

3:22-36

John the Baptist: The Friend of the Bridegroom

“He is baptizing and all are coming to Him!” (vv. 22–28). This is an interesting, and in some ways peculiar, passage. At first it seems almost unrelated to the general context. Why is John the Baptist brought into the narrative at this point? But then one becomes aware that it highlights the consistent faithfulness of John the Baptist’s witness to Jesus. He does not deviate or falter in his mission even though some of his disciples have now left him to follow Jesus. What is happening to John’s ministry now that Jesus is becoming more popular?

This is the only place we read of Jesus baptizing. However, Jesus was probably not doing the baptizing, but His disciples (John 4:2). Apparently, this was also a baptism of repentance like John’s, a preparation for the coming of the kingdom, not a full-orbed “Christian baptism.” Also, it seems Jesus was spending some leisurely time with His disciples, perhaps a period of deepening intimacy. “He remained with them” (v. 22).

John is also continuing to baptize nearby at Aenon where there was “much water.” Here there were seven springs within a quarter of a mile radius. The way the phrase, “For John had not yet been thrown into prison,” is included seems to mark that as a critical, well-known event which had widespread repercussions.

The dispute about purification between John’s disciples and the Jews had been an ongoing debate. Here it is brought up again. What was the meaning, the spiritual efficacy, of John’s baptism? Was it really different from the Jewish cleansing by water? Where had John gotten his authority to baptize?

Out of this discussion, a statement is thrown at the Baptist that surely could have been an opening for a jealous explosion. This must have come from John’s own disciples, for they address him as “Rabbi.” They speak of One who was with John beyond the Jordan to whom he bore witness. Surely, Jesus, whose name is not mentioned here, must have been in the company of the Baptist longer than we assume. Then these disciples report, “He is baptizing, and all are coming to Him!” It is almost as if they are saying, “He is getting into our territory, taking over what you, John, were called to do.” What an opportunity for John to strike back.

How difficult it is for those of us who are so-called spiritual leaders to handle the success of some other brother and “his church” down the street. Think of how easy it is to be subtly or openly critical of, or envious of some great church and its pastor and try to imitate them. It can be difficult to pray for him and his people and to rejoice in his spiritual victories.

But John is spiritually mature and sensitive, a true man of God. He is profoundly aware that anyone can only be and do what God gives him. He cannot take by force what only heaven can give. Each of us is to be content and faithful with his gifts and his own calling. So John reiterates what he has so emphatically stated before, “I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before Him” (v. 28).

“The friend … rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom‘s voice” (vv. 29–35). Then he uses the beautiful picture of marriage, which had a powerful meaning in Jewish life, to illustrate his own place in relation to Jesus. He is not the Bridegroom, but the friend of the Bridegroom. The relationship between Yahweh and His people is often spoken of as Bridegroom and bride in the Old Testament (Hos. 2:19, Ezek. 16, Mal. 2:11). But Jesus has now come as the Bridegroom in this new age to claim the new Israel as His bride. It is John the Baptist, “the friend,” who has introduced and turned over some of his disciples, the new “bride,” to Jesus, the new “bridegroom.” The friend of the bridegroom had an important place in Jewish weddings. He was the liaison, the shoshbeen, who presented the bride to the bridegroom, then presided at the wedding, and later, after the wedding, guarded the bridal chamber from all false intruders. “The full, clear voice of the bridegroom’s love”³ for his beloved is the only voice the friend would hear. Then the friend would rejoice, for his task was completed.

Thus, John has finished the task he was given to do. He has announced and prepared the way for the Bridegroom who will now take center stage more and more. The glory of God will be revealed through His mighty works. In spite of unbelief and stubborn resistance, He will claim His bride. John is the friend of the Bridegroom, but belongs to the old age that will pass away and die. Jesus is the Bridegroom of the new age, which will grow and flourish until the glory of the marriage fills heaven and earth. So John says, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” Only a great man can accept his own demise with joy. Little does he realize how tragically that will take place—through imprisonment, suspense, and finally death.

John knows that he is of the earth. He cannot act, then, as if he has come from heaven. (Neither can we.) This would pervert and destroy his mission. But there is One who has come from above. Therefore, He is sovereign “above all,” not only over all earth, including John and all that he has done, but above all creation. This is so crucial that it is repeated twice in verse 31. Only this One, who is over all, can speak the truth from heaven because He bears testimony to what He has seen and heard. In verse 32 we see again the tragedy of rejection because so many will not receive His testimony.

But those who accept His message have “certified that God is true.” Certified! This is the way an official edict or command would have come in that day. The seal of Rome would be on it with all the power of the emperor behind it. Even an illiterate person could understand that stamp. Anyone then who accepts the testimony of this One from heaven is certified! The stamp of God’s very nature is on him. He becomes a living testimony to God’s truth.

How can the Father hold back anything from the Son whom He loves? Here is one of the central themes of this Gospel. He “has given all things into His hand.” Love does not hold back anything, nor does it measure out carefully little portions of the Spirit now and then. God has given all things into the hand of the One whom He has sent. So, those who believe in the Son are given all that the Father has shared with Him. First and foremost, this is life everlasting, the very quality of life that is in the Father. And this is not dangled out there in some way as a prize at the end for those who believe, but is given now. It is a present reality—life in the Father now through the Son.

Not Life but the Wrath of God (v. 36). But those who reject this gracious gift, who will not believe, have turned away from life. The alternative to life is death and darkness, “the wrath of God.” This is not His angry, peevish response, because we refuse to accept Him. Not at all. The wrath of God is awesome. God’s holiness cannot belittle or wink at man’s turning away from life. Our egos, which insist they do not need God’s gift of life, choose darkness, which is God’s wrath.

We moderns have tended to sentimentalize and to tone down “the settled and active opposition of God’s holy nature to everything that is evil.”⁴ This is not a momentary, fleeting experience, but a permanent state of existence. “The wrath of God abides on him” (v. 36).