Jeremy Duncan: After 20 years in this job, after walking through thousands of conversations about faith in that time, some that have gone well and others that have not, what I've really become persuaded of is that the real death knell for faith is when you and I become so afraid it might change underneath us. Welcome to season 11. But enough with all the preamble, my name is Jeremy. I'm part of the team here at the church. And today, we start a new season with a new conversation that we are calling How I Hold on to Faith.
And this series is really about wanting to talk through some of the very real struggles that I and our whole teaching team really have had in holding on to our faith over the years. We want to talk about the significance, the importance of our doubts and questions today. It's friendship and faith next week, spirituality and worship after that, participation and belonging in community, and then finally, generosity and our post Christian relationship to wealth as we close off the series. But in some ways, this whole conversation is intended as a continuation of what we started last Sunday. Because last Sunday, at our 10th anniversary, I talked about resurrection, and how the biggest moments in our lives and the grandest celebrations of our faith absolutely deserve a pause.
It's good, and it's holy for us to slow down and express our gratitude. But that the Christian story is fundamentally one that is always continually reorienting us forward. It's one of my favorite moments in the New Testament. The resurrected Christ meets with his disciples, helps them dream about a future they can barely even begin to grasp. And just when they want to turn their attention back toward what was, they ask him, are you now going to restore the kingdom that we remember?
That's when Jesus says, not even close. The story is ahead of you, and then he floats off into the sky. And as I argued last week, I think this moment for all its surreal, absurd humor is actually undervalued for its theological weight. Because I think this, I think sometimes we get confused between gratitude and nostalgia. And I think it's good for us to be grateful.
But I think it's dangerous for us to get stuck constantly wishing for what was. And just at that moment where we might be content to stay where we are, even go backward to what's familiar, If there's ever a time for that, it was there on that beach with Jesus. But that's where he points us toward all of our next great adventures. And that means that for you and I to really encounter resurrection in our lives before we die, which I firmly believe is exactly what Jesus invites us to, it means, you and I, we need to be continually looking for where God is moving, how our faith is evolving, how our interests are changing, where opportunities are emerging, and for all the ways that you and I are still discovering everything it means to follow the way of Jesus. Resurrection is about the fact that there is always more ahead of us than there will ever be behind.
And really that's the only way to live. So let's pray, and then we'll dive into our doubts together. God of new beginnings, who makes every day new, who fills every season with potential, who invests every breath with possibility. Might you help us to see what you have ahead of us in this new season. Pain to overcome and loss to bear, but also incredible joy to celebrate and hope to discover.
In all of this, might we come to know you as trusted guide who not only offers us wisdom, but who walks with us gently and confidently, ready for us to lean on you whenever we struggle to stand for ourselves. In that light, might we enter this new season brave and courageous and hopeful for what it will bring. For those of us who find ourselves tired and weary, maybe discouraged or even fearful, might today bring new joy. For those of us who are eager and ready and excited for what's possible, may today bring new opportunity. And for those of us today who are simply open to what may come, may today reassure us of your presence near us, with us.
Your kindness extended to us always. In the strong name of the risen Christ we pray. Amen. Alright. This new series is called How I Hold on to Faith.
And today we are going to cover faith and theology, moving forward without fear, born from above, and finally, beginning all over again. But that title, How I Hold on to Faith, that comes out of a number of conversations within our team inspired by a lot of our conversations with you. See one of the really common questions that I get when I meet with people for coffee here in the community, or even just in DMs from people who have found our YouTube channel, or have read one of my books, is how have you been able to allow your faith to interact with so many different critical ideas, to evolve and change so much over the course of your career, and yet still remain a vibrant part of your identity? And every single time I have that conversation, part of me is deeply empathetic. I know exactly where that question is coming from.
I have felt that question as my faith has changed within me over the years. But there's also a part of me that is deeply troubled by this idea that we would ever even see faith as something that's not inherently changing, evolving, growing with us over time. So I think there's this narrative that a lot of us have been handed, maybe even indoctrinated into, that has told us that faith is something that is fundamentally apart from us. It's a collection of ideas that we give mental assent to. And therefore, we tend to treat faith like a true or false quiz, a yes or no question.
Check the blocks. Do you believe? The problem, I think, for a lot of us is that doesn't work for very long because eventually we realize that faith is simply part of who we are. Now, God is apart from us. And God is objective.
And we can get God wrong. We often do. But faith, in the end, is really nothing more or less than all my experiences of the world, my subjective encounters with you, my perception and best attempts to make sense of all the divine all around me all the time. Faith is simply my trust that there is more than just me. Now sometimes I take that trust, and I gather up all my encounters, and I try to put words to it all.
And I compare those words to the Christian tradition or to scripture, and I read the thoughts of others who've come before me and wrestled with their experiences. I participate in a religious community that helps me to focus my experiences into beliefs. And I call that my theology, and I'm always working on that all the time as well. But my faith, at the end of the day, is this simple conviction that I am somehow held and loved and valued by something greater than the universe, and that love finds its clearest expression in Jesus. That's it.
And that very simple faith is then precisely what has allowed me to explore and to wrestle, to question and doubt, to trust even that when I inevitably encounter something unexpected in my life, my faith, my trust will be durable enough to grow, to expand, to cover it all. See I love theology. You guys know that about me. Right? But I'm also convinced that the more we encrust our trust in the goodness of God with the ways that we talk about God, or the more we confuse our faith in the way of Jesus with the particular religious patterns and language that we use to follow that way, the more fragile the whole enterprise starts to become.
After 20 years in this job, after walking through thousands of conversations about faith in that time, some that have gone well and others that have not, What I've really become persuaded of is that the real death knell for faith is when you and I become so afraid it might change underneath us. Because it's always changing. And so one of the phrases that has become really important to me over the decades as I've held onto my faith has been focused on helping me manage all of that fear. I tell myself this regularly. Don't look forward with fear.
Don't look back with disdain. Now you could also say it this way, and I often do. I say to myself, look forward with hope, look back with compassion. And those lines are cobbled together in my mind from various writers and thinkers and songs and just basic common sense. But for me, what they represent is this desire to embrace, to teach myself to embrace the whole story of my life.
Because here's the thing. Over the years, what I've come to know about myself is this. Perhaps you recognize this as well, but when I see change on the horizon, I can feel something shifting in me, or I can see something that's going to change around me. I know over time that my instinct is to get defensive, a little bit anxious, a little bit fearful of that change. And I also know that when I look back at change in my life that's already happened, the ways I've become something different, my instinct is to look back and be, meh, meh, a little embarrassed by who I was or how I used to think.
And so what I've learned is that I need to counter that fear of the future with hope for what could be. And I need to counter that disdain for the past with compassion for how that person brought me here. Now one of the corollary benefits of all this that I've seen in my life is that the better I've gotten at doing this for myself, the easier it's become to welcome the person beside me wherever they happen to be in their story as well. But for me, this exercise is about reminding myself every single day that life is not static. And faith is evolving, and resurrection is always in front of me calling me to what's next.
And for me, one of the most profound ways that this whole process of an ongoing evolving faith is talked about by Jesus also just happens to be one of the most famous and probably misunderstood lines in the New Testament. And it comes when Jesus encounters a man named Nicodemus. Now for me, Nicodemus sometimes feels like a bit of a patron saint. His journey feels very alive when I map it onto mine. But I want to rehearse his story today, as we've done before.
And I want to start this story a little bit earlier than the big line, if you know what's coming. Because I want to back up the story into chapter 2 just to set the stage for a little bit. This is verse 23 in John's Gospel. Now, while Jesus was in Jerusalem at the Passover Festival, many people saw the signs He was performing and believed in His name. But Jesus would not entrust Himself to them, for He knew all people.
He did not need any testimony about mankind for He knew what was in each person. And there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus, who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. Now we'll get to Nicodemus momentarily here, but I want to say something first. This whole bit about Jesus not needing any testimony about mankind, somehow knowing what was in each person, divorced from the story of Nicodemus that it leads into, I feel like it kind of takes on this odd, mystical fortune teller kind of vibe. As if Jesus is sort of walking through town, bumping into people, and having visions about their past.
And maybe that's how it happened. Who am I to say? But I am here to say that in the context of the way the gospel is structured, those lines serve a very specific purpose. They set the stage for Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus. And so as I read it, I think the point here is less about Jesus' mystical powers.
And the point is more that Jesus is about to say something to Nicodemus that is not just random, or generic. It's going to be personal and pastoral. Jesus' words here are crafted for the particular person that is standing in front of him. And I like that a lot. I like that the gospel writer understands that the real power of Jesus is not bound up in some magic trick that you and I don't have access to.
The power of Jesus is embedded in his ability to be present to the particular person he's speaking to. And that is something that you and I can learn to do, even if it does take a little practice. But this is how the conversation goes down. Nicodemus came to Jesus at night and said, Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs that you're doing if God were not with him.
And Jesus replied, very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again. How can someone be born when they're old? Nicodemus asked. Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother's womb to be born? And Jesus answered, very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they're born of water and of spirit.
Flesh gives birth to flesh, but spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, you must be born again. For the wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it goes, so it is with everyone born of Spirit. How can this be?
Nicodemus asked. You're Israel's teacher, Jesus said. And you don't understand this? Now, couple things here that have happened along the way that we need to talk about. And first, we should talk about the big phrase, the famous one here.
Right? You must be born again. Because this is actually, maybe surprisingly, the only time that Jesus uses this analogy. Now it does get picked up by Peter. He talks about being born again of an imperishable seed.
That's 1st Peter 123. And we certainly get parallel ideas in Paul. For example, 1 Corinthians 5 17, he talks about anyone in Christ being a new creation. But for Jesus, born again seems to be a singularly significant metaphor for this particular conversation with this unique individual, Nicodemus. Now that is not to say at all that we can't apply this image to our lives.
In fact, I think we absolutely should. It's just that if we're going to understand the image well, I think we have to hear it in the context of this conversation. And this is like a fascinating conversation. Right? The thing is, it hinges on a misunderstanding that's honestly kind of hard to translate into English, Because what Jesus says here is that you must be born anothen.
And that can mean again, but actually, anothen has a primary meaning of from the top or from above. Now that can have a religious meaning, as in from God above. But anothen also just has a very practical meaning of from the top. So, for example, there's a passage that talks about the temple in the curtain being torn from the top to the bottom. That's torn anothen, from the top.
It's just what it means. The problem we have is in translating this into English, we know that Jesus means born from above here. But the story really only works if you translate it in a way that demonstrates how Nicodemus could interpret it wrong, is born a second time. And so the irony of all this is that today we have this phrase, born again, that is very deeply embedded in Christian culture. And yet we know full well it's a mistranslation.
It should be born from above. So what do we do with this phrase? Well, my argument is that the gospel writer has very specifically and consciously set the stage for us here. So that we would hear these words in the unique context of this conversation with Nicodemus. And that means we should talk about Nic for a second here.
Nicodemus is part of the ruling council. The word there is archon, and it could mean that Nicodemus was part of something called the Sanhedrin. That was literally the ruling council in the pharisaical tradition. More likely though, here it just simply means he's a respected leader in the community. This is not an official title that we have here in the phrase.
We do know, however, that Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. And it's been suggested pretty frequently that this is because Nicodemus doesn't want to be seen in public with Jesus. Again, as certainly possible, obviously, Jesus has a few throw downs with some of the Pharisees as His story unfolds. However, remember, this is chapter 3 here. Right?
Like, this is pretty early in Jesus' ministry before He's had any significant run ins with any religious authorities. And for the most part, through most of his life, Jesus interacts quite publicly with other teachers and Pharisees. So while it's possible that Nicodemus is trying to avoid being seen with Jesus here, it's at least as likely that this is really just simply about Nicodemus wanting to avoid the crowd, so we can have an actual conversation with Jesus. But keep in mind here, we've talked about this before, but the Pharisees are not the cartoon villains of the New Testament. If there's any group that Jesus most closely aligned with in terms of his approach to God in the gospels, it was the Pharisees.
Now, Jesus critiques them quite heavily, and some of them respond quite harshly. But probably the best way to think about Jesus' relationship to the Pharisees is an intra communal dispute. Not as someone lobbing stones from the road. Jesus is someone who is part of this community, loves this community, and is working to reform this community and move it forward. Regardless, I still think the best way to characterize this interaction is fascination, not fear.
And I think you see that in the way that Nicodemus approaches Jesus. Rabbi, we know that you're a teacher who has come from God. I mean that doesn't sound very fearful. It certainly doesn't sound antagonistic to me. And by the way, notice the we there.
There's this growing awareness and respect for Jesus, even within this community that Nicodemus represents. But here's where Jesus seems to know what Nicodemus needs to hear. Because honestly, kind of out of the blue, Jesus says, look, very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born from above. Now, Nicodemus misinterprets that as being born a second time, and we're off to the races here. Still, Jesus doubles down.
You should not be surprised at my saying, you must be born from above. The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you don't know where it came from or where it goes, so it is with everyone born of spirit. The only thing that never changes, Nicodemus, is that your faith will keep surprising you. Except this time, Jesus leaves sort of no room for misunderstanding.
This time it's not born, it's born or born of spirit. Again, it's really kind of driving home that born from above aspect here. And yet, Nicodemus, a respected leader, an archon in the community, someone who has excelled at every step along the way and passed every religious test he's ever been offered, he now slips off into the night as the writer switches us to a new narrative. And the thing is, in almost every book and commentary and sermon that I've read on this passage, what I've always been led to believe is that Nicholas finally runs up against the test his faith can't pass. The thing for me is the more I wrestle with the way that my faith has evolved over the years, the more I tell myself every day to look forward with hope and back with compassion, the more I wonder if that's really the point of this story.
Because when Nicodemus slips off into the night, and the gospel redirects us to a new story, John has not, even for a second, forgotten about our friend. And 4 chapters later in John 7, Jesus is teaching a crowd, and He says things like, look, you guys have misunderstood the idea of Sabbath rest. You've turned it into an idol to serve rather than something that was meant to serve you. And He says, guys, I'm only here for a short time, and eventually, I will return to God and the source of all life. He says, anyone who's thirsty, regardless of appearance or privilege, they can come to me.
I will give myself away to them freely. And the crowd receives this as a critique rather than an invitation. And so they get upset at this blurring of the lines that all of us love to hold on to so tightly. In fact, they get so angry that the writer suggests they actually want to kill Jesus. But then John records that Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus earlier and who was one of their own numbers, stepped out from the crowd and asked, does our law allow us to condemn a man without first hearing him?
So out of nowhere, Nicodemus, who disappeared into the night a few chapters ago, he steps up again in front of the crowd and says, guys, what are we doing here? Like, does this make sense to any of us? Let's at least listen to him. Let's look at his life. If it's nonsense, then sure, forget it.
But if it's not, I mean maybe we should pay attention to what he has to say. And then he slips back into the crowd, and Jesus keeps teaching, and the critics keep critiquing, and this story moves on again in a new direction. But again, John has not forgotten about Nicodemus. Because this time, another 12 chapters go by, and Nicodemus is firmly out of sight. We've forgotten about him, and Jesus rides into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and confronts the religious leaders throughout the week.
He's crucified on Good Friday, and then all of a sudden, Nicodemus is back. This time we read that a man named Joseph of Arimathea went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. And then in chapter 19 verse 39, we read that he was accompanied by Nicodemus. The man who had earlier visited Jesus at night, the man who had defended Jesus in front of the crowd, John wants to make sure you don't miss the threads here. And Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about £75, and taking Jesus' body, the 2 of them, they wrapped it in the spices and strips of linen in accordance with Jewish burial custom.
Now, without going into a ton of detail here, this was a very important process in Jewish culture. The burial of the dead was a tightly prescribed tradition. But the bringing of spices, £75 that are named here, this was a burial, as the scholar Raymond Brown says, that was fit for a king. It's an extravagant display of, at the very least, profound respect. But here's what I want you to see today.
The narrative that I've always been told is that way back in chapter 3, Nicodemus failed the test. And he missed out on the chance to be born again, and it was only after Jesus' death that he realized the error of his ways. But I don't think that's it at all. I don't think that's what John intended. I don't think that's what Jesus saw happening.
I don't think that's what you and I should map onto our stories of faith in the slightest. Because I think if we're going to take Jesus' invitation in chapter 3 seriously, if we're going to embrace this image that he offers to Nicodemus, it is absolutely less than nothing to do with deciding anything. Born Again is strictly, exclusively, beautifully an invitation to try something new. I mean, think about it. Nicodemus has spent years building out his faith, encrusting he's trusting God with all kinds of language and habit, patterns that had been instrumental in bringing him here to this moment in front of Jesus.
But to be born from above, to start fresh, has nothing to do with changing sides. But how many babies do you know with fully formed ideas about the universe? Now, the invitation here, if I was going to put it into modern language, it would be something like this, Nicodemus, it's time to do some deconstruction. And take apart all of the faith that you've been given and see what might happen if you allow yourself to put it all back together. Born again isn't an end.
It's a start. And it happens over and over and over and over again in our lives. Born again is nothing less than the stuff of allowing yourself to look forward with hope to what may come and back with compassion for what was, trusting that change is precisely what will allow your faith to remain a constant part of your identity. And part of what has helped me hold onto my faith over decades now through all of the turbulence that comes with opening up so much of my story in community like this every week is knowing the fundamental difference between my trust in the goodness of God expressed in Jesus and all the beliefs and the theology that I am constantly constructing and deconstructing, allowing to be born again every time I allow myself to see the world with fresh eyes. So here's the secret they don't tell you in church.
Your questions and your doubts are not your enemy. They are your invitation to be born again and again and again and again. Trusting that so much of your thoughts and language, beliefs, theology will change over time, but what will remain constant once you embrace that is this profound trust in the goodness of God expressed in Jesus that carries you through all of those shifts and evolution. Let's pray. God, for all the times that we have confused our beliefs, our theology, our language and our practice with our simple trust and the love that sits at the center of the universe, We ask that your spirit would be present to us, helping us to love our beliefs and our thoughts and our language but to hold steady to our trust in you.
Knowing that new experiences will challenge us. New challenges will force us to rethink ideas. New ups and downs will shake us and push us. But in the end, if we hold firm to your goodness that holds us steady, then so much of us can change and evolve and be allowed to become new every single day. Might we see our doubts and our questions not as a threat but as an opportunity to rethink and experience in a new way your goodness that holds us in love.
And may that help us hold on to our faith through it all. In the strong name of the risen Christ, we pray. Amen. Hey. Jeremy here and thanks for listening to our podcast.
If you're intrigued by the work that we're doing here at commons, you can head to our website commons.church for more information. You can find us on all of the socials at commonschurch. You can subscribe to our YouTube channel where we are posting content regularly for the community. You can also join our Discord server. Head to commons.church/discord for the invite, and there you will find the community having all kinds of conversations about how we can encourage each other to follow the way of Jesus.
We would love to hear from you. Anyway, thanks for tuning in. Have a great week. We'll talk to you soon.