This is a copy of my talk given at Ayia Kyriaki and Saint Stephen’s in the Anglican Church of Paphos on Sunday 1 March 2026. The Bible Reading was John 3:1-17. 

Prayer

Heavenly Father,
I thank You for Your word.
By the power of Your Holy Spirit,
May You speak to my heart,
And change my life.
In the precious name of Jesus I pray.
Amen

Introduction

As we move through the season of Lent each of our readings today reveals a God who draws people into new beginnings and a deeper faith. Psalm 121 reminds us that our journey of faith is sustained by divine care. In Genesis 12, God calls Abraham to leave behind all that is familiar and step into the unknown. In Romans 4, Paul reflects on that same faith, showing that the righteousness Abraham received came not through law or works but through trusting in God’s promises. Finally, in John 3, Jesus reveals to Nicodemus that transformation (that transfiguration metamorphoo that I spoke about a couple of weeks ago) begins with being “born of the Spirit.”

Meeting Jesus At Night

John tells us Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a leader and teacher of the law. He was well educated, respected, religiously knowledgeable and a member of the establishment. He knew the Scriptures. He knew the traditions. He knew how faith was supposed to work.

I wonder if Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night because he is afraid of what others would think – especially the religious leaders? John doesn’t shame Nicodemus for going to Jesus at night. He simply tells us that Jesus meets him there. This is good news because it means that doubt or fear is not a barrier to knowing God. Questions are not a failure of faith. The night is not the absence of God; it can be the place where we hear God speak.

Have you lain awake at 3:00 am, staring at the ceiling, pondering the great questions of life, like … what shall I have for breakfast? Or the deeper spiritual questions such as: Is God real? Are you still with me God, even though I’ve doubted you? God, can you give me a fresh start?

Nicodemus finds Jesus in the dark of night. He acknowledges that he sees something is happening in Jesus that cannot be explained away. Jesus answers: “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Jesus isn’t telling us what we need to do; he’s telling us what God does. “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus is understandably confused. “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” he asks. “Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Nicodemus is thinking like Mr Spock! Logically. Literally. Practically. But Jesus is speaking about something else.

Nicodemus has already told Jesus he “sees the kingdom.” He sees the rule, the actions of God. He knows that Jesus’ miracles, signs, and the beautiful, restorative, healing things he does can only be from God. The fact that Nicodemus can see or recognize God means God is giving him the gift of new life – a heavenly birth, from above, that allows him to recognize God’s hand at work. To be born from above is new life. It is not an achievement. It is not a decision. It is a gift. Jesus describes what God does. It is about God doing what we cannot do for ourselves.

By Water And Spirit

Jesus says this new birth comes by “water and Spirit.” Not water alone. Not Spirit alone. Both. Water washes. Spirit breathes. Water cleanses what cannot clean itself. Spirit animates what cannot itself give life. This is new creation language. God speaks life where there was none. In the beginning, God the Father breathed the spirit of life, the Ruach of God, into his creation. Now through his Son, the Father is recreating, renewing, and restoring all things. Jesus has ushered in the new creation. This really matters because it means new birth is not conditional. New birth doesn’t depend on human openness, willingness, readiness, action, or courage. It depends on God.

The Wind Does Not Ask Permission

Jesus then uses an analogy that Nicodemus, and we, cannot control. “The wind blows where it chooses,” Jesus says. “You hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” Wind does not ask for approval. Wind does not follow schedules. Wind does not respond to human effort. You do not make the wind blow. You only discover it already moving. So it is, Jesus says, with everyone born of the Spirit.

This is not a description of human faithfulness. This is a proclamation of divine freedom. The Spirit does not wait for us to raise our sails correctly. The Spirit does not hold back until we are brave enough. The Spirit is not summoned by sincerity. The Spirit moves because God is alive. Now this may unsettle some of you. It certainly unsettled Nicodemus. But it is also deeply comforting. Because it means new life does not rest on us.

At this point in the conversation, Jesus shifts from imagery to history. From metaphor to promise. “No one has ascended into heaven,” he says, “except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.” New life, new birth does not happen because humans ascend to or reach God.

I read an article on FB this week which said that many people view faith as a ladder where we find ourselves continually climbing to get closer to God, when actually, faith is a chair, when we sit and wait for God to come to us. I quite liked that! New life happens because God comes to us.

Then Jesus reaches back into Israel’s history. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” This is not a random reference. In that story, the people are dying. Snakes bite them and they are helpless. They do not cure themselves. They are saved, “cured” because a bronze snake was “lifted up” by Moses (Numbers 21). This is a bizarre story. The very thing that was killing them saved them. But all this imagery points to Jesus saving us through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. Jesus brings new birth by being lifted up on the cross.

For God So Loved The World

We now arrive at the most well-known verse in the NT – if not the Bible. John 3:16. We see it on T-shirts and held up on placards at sporting events.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.

But sometimes we need to slow down and hear it as if for the first time. Notice what comes first. Love. And notice who is loved. The world. God’s action flows from God’s love. Always. God does not send the Son because God really hoped the world would be faithful. God sends the Son because God is faithful. And the giving of the Son is not symbolic. It is costly.

I agree with Dietrich Bonhoeffer when he argues in his book, The Cost of Discipleship, that the Church has been guilty of cheapening God’s grace. Bonhoeffer makes these comments in comparing what he calls ‘Cheap Grace and Costly Grace’:

Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjack’s wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessing with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits … Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. … Costly grace is the gospel – which must be brought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son, ‘ye were bought at a price’ and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.

Jesus is lifted up for us. Jesus enters death for us. Jesus bears what we cannot bear. This is what “eternal life” means in John’s Gospel. Not merely life after death or life that lasts forever, but life that begins now because death has been confronted and overcome.

And Jesus is quite clear: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world through him might be saved.” If condemnation is the only message that people hear from the Church, then we have missed the heart of the gospel. God’s movement toward the world is not condemnatory. It is a rescue. He is saving us. It is an act of salvation. It is an act of love.

The Work Of The Triune God

This story is shaped by the life of the triune God. The Father loves the world and sends the Son. The Son descends, is lifted up, and gives himself for the life of the world. The Spirit gives new birth, breathes life, and sustains what God has begun. New birth is not something we achieve through our effort. It is the shared work of Father, Son, and Spirit. From beginning to end, this is God’s faithfulness at work in his church, in his people, in us!

Nicodemus

Interestingly, the name Nicodemus comes from two Greek words nike meaning victory and demos meaning people and so the literal translation is victory of the people! We only hear of Nicodemus three times in John’s Gospel, yet each moment adds depth to his story. The first time is here in John 3. Later, Nicodemus speaks up quietly for justice when the religious leaders are scheming against Jesus. Then he helps to bury Jesus’ body after he dies on the cross. But this time, Nicodemus shows up openly not at the dead of night. New birth is not always instant. Sometimes it takes root in the dark. Sometimes it appears hidden to others. Sometimes it unfolds slowly.

Conclusion

On Green Monday, a boy was flying a kite with his father on Alyki beach. The wind pressed against the fabric, and the string pulled tight as the kite rose higher and higher into the blue sky. Before long, it was only a speck in the distance. Then the clouds rolled in until the kite disappeared from sight completely. A man walking by laughed and said, “Why are you still holding that string? The kite is gone. You can’t even see it anymore.” The boy smiled and said, “It’s still there. I can’t see it, but I can feel it tugging.”

Faith can feel like a tug at times. You can’t explain it, but you know what you feel, that tug inside your soul. That tug is not something you create, just like the little boy didn’t cause the tug on the kite string. You don’t decide to feel it. You simply notice it’s there, pulling gently, steadily. It’s something you don’t see, but it’s a feeling you can’t deny.

God, who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, is the one tugging you toward hope, toward love, toward life in all its fulness. May each one of us, like Nicodemus, know the prompting of God’s Holy Spirit to draw us into a deeper relationship with Him.

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER The text contained in this sermon (except where stated) is solely owned by its author, Revd Paul A. Carr. The reproduction, or distribution of this message, or any portion of it, should include the author’s name.

This is a one of my favourite songs called ‘You’ by a good friend of mine called Rob Halligan. This is a video of him singing this at a concert when I was at Emmanuel Church, Billericay. It’s not the greatest of recordings, but you should be able to make out the words and the tune.