Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.’ Jesus answered him, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’” – John 3:1-3

A SECRET VISIT

No one could find out, he thought as he slunk through the deserted streets of Jerusalem. As a member of the Sanhedrin, he knew his fellow Pharisees would ridicule him for thinking to associate with the lowly fishermen and the leader they followed.

But Nicodemus longed for the truth, a thirst for it deeper than any he had ever known. His sleep had been disturbed for too long by questions to which he had no answers. Was the Galilean really able to work miracles?  Or were they just tricks to trap the simple peasants who trod after him?

He could not risk being seen. His reputation was at stake. Knowing he could be exposed as a fool at any moment, he still could not resist the lure to learn the truth:

Was Jesus, the carpenter, really the Son of God?

A RAINY EVENING

I was fourteen that July, working my first real job at a Five and Ten store in a seaside town, spending my days off sunning on the beach. But there was a restlessness about me. Even the books that provided most of my summer entertainment gave me no answers to the questions that roiled in my mind.

I lay on my cot in the upstairs loft of our summer cottage, listening to the rain beat a tattoo on the roof. Stealthily so I did not awaken my brother on the other side of the loft, I clicked on my bedside lamp and reached into the pocket of the shorts I’d flung onto the floor. My fingers felt the folded envelope my grandmother had brought in from the mailbox this afternoon. I’d read the note from Pam already, but I pulled it out again.

“God has no grandchildren,” she had written in her beautiful and flowing cursive. “I know your church and your religion are important to you, Linda. But only Jesus, not rules, will give you eternal life.”

I considered her words again. For four years, Pam had been my middle school music teacher, but once I graduated middle school, she told me to call her by her first name and invited me to an after-school Bible study. She showed me John 3:16 and invited me on more than one occasion to give my life to Jesus. 

My heart longed to, but the rules of my mother’s religion were ingrained in me. How was it possible that such a gift–eternal life in Heaven–came with no need for penance or dogma?

A HOPEFUL PRAYER

The only prayers I knew were the ones in the missile my mother had given me on my First Communion. But Pam had  told me that I did not need scripted prayers; I could just talk to God. So I did, slipping out of bed and kneeling onto the bare wooden floor. I clutched Pam’s letter in my hand.

I didn’t want to be God’s grandchild. My own grandparents were wonderful and special to me, but I only saw them in the summer months and odd weekends.

 I didn’t want my relationship with God to be part-time. 

I didn’t know what the sinner’s prayer was. I didn’t have any experience at all with Roman’s Road. I barely knew John 3:16.

But as I knelt on that wooden floor in our summer college, listening to the rain beat on the roof, my heart cried out to God.

He heard me. I was born again. 

A CHANGED LIFE

I am certain that Nicodemus faced challenges from his fellow Pharisees after his night with Jesus, yet there was a lasting effect. In John 7:50, he reminded the Sanhedrin that no person should be judged without a trial. His colleagues mocked him, asking if he, too, was from Galilee. After Jesus’ crucifixion, Nicodemus supplied the needed spices for the proper burial of the body and assisted Joseph of Arimathea in transporting Jesus to the tomb (John 19:39-42). 

And me? My mother wasn’t too happy when I declared my intention to leave the church she loved, so I continued to attend with her each Sunday until I left for college. I also know that she realized my faith was solid and strong. During the many years my husband suffered with multiple illnesses, she would often say to me, “Only someone with your faith could see this through.”

It wasn’t me, I’d tell her. It was Jesus.