Focal Passage: John 3:1-17
Every time I pull into my drive way and look at the roof above my garage, I see the flashing that has come loose. The glue and nails that once held it in place have weakened and broken free. The sealant intended to keep water from leaking into the frame of the house has visible gaps.
It wouldn’t be hard to fix if it were within easier reach of my 12-foot ladder and my 72-year-old body. Just when I think I can make that repair, I look again at the pitch of that roof and decide that discretion is the better part of valor. Back goes the ladder on its hooks.
I drove into the driveway this week, the flashing laughing again at my cowardice. I had enough. I picked up my phone and called Willie. Willie has done a fair amount of restoration work in my neighborhood. My neighbors tell me his competency comes at a reasonable price.
Every home, regardless of how well it was originally built, will need restoration after a time. This week, weather permitting, Willie will come out and restore the broken pieces of my house. I’ll be grateful.
Restoration.
It sort of became the theme of my thoughts this week. I read a snippet from a book I have in my library called Dancing at My Funeral, written by Maxie Dunnam back in 1973. I bought the book during my sophomore year at Texas Tech University with the discount I got for working part-time as a clerk at the Baptist Bookstore in Lubbock.
The book is Dunnam’s reflection upon the choices that shaped his life…some for the good and some, well, no so much. Dunnam looked back at his life with the freedom of grace that God gave him, finding he could “dance at the funeral of the past that haunted him.”
He comes out of that life reflection able to rejoice because he understands that the Bible is all about restoration. It is a theme that courses through the heart of all scripture. Cover to cover. From “In the beginning” to John’s last “Amen,..” and everything in between.
Dunnam wrote, “All the years since my youth I had been demanding a chance to start over. But, that’s impossible! And unimportant. The fact that you can’t start over is only part of the essential truth. The encouraging and redeeming part is that you don’t need to start over. The need is to start today…right now…living the new life God offers.
“The past,” said Dunnam, “can’t be blotted out, but we don’t have to be shackled by it. And, that is the essence of the gospel.”
Restoration.
You may remember our friend Nicodemus. He’s the Pharisee who first got to hear Jesus say, “For God so loved the world…” Nicodemus heard Jesus teach and preach. His colleagues in the priesthood felt threatened by Jesus’ surprising teachings and his rising popularity. Nicodemus, on the other hand, felt his carefully constructed faith begin to unravel at the seams every time he hear Jesus speak.
The faith Jesus spoke about seemed firmly anchored in concepts of love and grace that transforms ritual into righteousness. Everything Jesus said burrowed in the emptiness of Nicodemus’ religion, cutting away the last remaining strings that held it together.
When he could not rid himself of the drabness of his faith, Nicodemus tiptoed into Jesus’ campsite in the dead of night for a private conversation that would probe his heart at its deepest.
“Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs you are doing if God were not with him.” (John 3:2)
Far more than a polite conversation starter, these opening lines were a veiled plea of a man for whom life and faith had grown stale. To borrow the words of Dunnam’s own experience, the past haunted him.
In reply, Jesus declared, “I tell you the truth; no one can know the kingdom of God unless he is born again.” (John 3:3)
Jesus’ cryptic statement only served to deepen Nicodemus’ despair and increase his anguish. Nicodemus argued the point by incredulously stating that being born again is a physical impossibility. A red-herring of an argument that Nicodemus hoped would buy him time to think.
Maybe it buys us some time as well. Think about it.
Yes, new life comes at birth, but after you’ve made of mess of life, when nothing about your past makes sense, when we can’t break the chains of the past, life just gets hard. It’s not easy climbing out of the ruts cut by our deliberate decision to live life on our terms.
I think deep down Nicodemus wanted this new life Jesus talked about, but didn’t know where or how to find it. This desire to find life after birth brought him to Jesus when every fiber of his being told him to stay away.
Jesus answered, “I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh but the spirit gives birth to spirit…for God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” (John 3:5-6, 16-17)
Nicodemus wasn’t questioning the desire for restoration. That he wanted more than anything. He was questioning the possibility of restoration.
I understand where Nicodemus is coming from. Like me staring at that ladder, he knew something needed repair, but the risk felt too high and the outcome too uncertain. Yet, he came anyway—quietly and cautiously—because he knew he needed someone else to do the restoration. Jesus was his Willie, the one who could make it new again.
Restoration often begins right there. Where fear and hope meet and hope takes that one small step forward.
Jesus laid it all out there for Nicodemus as he does for us. God loves enough to offer restoration through Christ. He didn’t come to condemn us for our failures to live up to God’s standard, he just wants us to open our hearts to the possibilities that life can be more…that restoration to new life is not only possible, it is powerful.
Paul practically shouts it out in his letter to the Colossian church.
When you were dead in your sins…God made you alive in Christ. He forgave all our sins…he took it away, nailing it to the cross. (Col 2:13-14)
With sins forgiven and nailed to the cross with Christ, we find ourselves restored to new life. We see that message clearly written in 2 Corinthians.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, the old has gone. The new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
I could finish this up with my own thoughts, but I doubt they would be as profound as those penned by Dunnam himself. So, with respect to copyright laws, allow me to quote him.
“I’ve discovered there is a beginning which is common to every experience, no matter what has gone before. This beginning is the point of decisiveness where we turn to God with a new attentiveness, a new openness to his possibilities…To say “yes” to God is the ultimate act of will. To say “yes” is to surrender. Surrender is the pivotal point for becoming a whole person.”
Restoration.
Surrender leads to restoration and restoration is built into ever fiber of God’s word. It found its deepest expression in the death of Jesus on the cross in sacrifice for the mistakes of our past, present and future. For those open to the possibility of restoration…life after birth…it is all the answer we need.
The past need not define or haunt us. The present need not overwhelm us. The future need not frighten us. Every bit of flashing can be resealed. Every nail re-driven. I can…you can…be restored to new life in Christ. All it takes is the courage to tiptoe into Jesus’ campsite…even in the middle of the night when nothing else makes sense.
When we surrender to his will, there is always life after new birth and it is always more.
I have come that they might have life and have it to the full. (John 10:10)
Jesus offers me abundant life beginning now. Regardless of my past mistakes. Regardless of my stubborn desire to live life on my terms. He stands by offering a life overflowing with joy, purpose, peace, and communion with God and others.
Here’s my chance and yours today. Find restoration in God’s grace. Bury the guilt of the past. Toss a flower on its grave. Dance at its funeral.
Let’s express our gratitude to Christ for restoration even as we discover that there is indeed life after birth.
Create in me a pure heart, O God and renew a steadfast spirit within me…Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. (Psalm 51:10,12)
Thinking Points
What “loose flashing” in my life have I noticed but avoided addressing because the climb feels risky or uncomfortable?
In what ways might my faith—like Nicodemus’s—be carefully constructed but quietly unraveling at the seams?
Do I believe restoration is something God desires for me, but struggle to believe it is truly possible? Why?
What parts of my past still feel like they haunt me rather than instruct me—and what would it mean to “dance at their funeral?”
What would it look like for me to say a decisive “yes” to God today—not starting over (because I can’t), but starting now?
