Skip to main content

Those 3-D Computer Generated Picture Things at the Mall

You know the ones? They look like an explosion at the pixel factory, unless you stand just so far away and refocus your eyes just right and for just long enough that a 3-D panorama leaps out, thrilling and amazing all.

Except me. I can’t do it. I’ve tried starting with my nose almost touching the glass and slowly backing away. I’ve tried gently relaxing the muscles in my eyes. I’ve tried defocusing, unfocusing, disfocusing -- everything. My husband and kids go from one to the next, saying, “Hey, cool! This one’s a cow! This one’s a space ship! This one’s the ceiling of St. Peter’s Basilica, complete with Michelangelo, paintbrush in hand!”

I’m still standing there crossed-eyed and headachy looking at an explosion at the pixel factory.

I think it would have been better if I didn’t know. At face value, they’re visually interesting; a collage of images and colours, almost a pattern, but not quite. I could enjoy them that way.

But I do know and I’m missing something. Something my family sees, but I don’t. They tell me it’s there and, for them, it is. But not for me. I want it to be. I’d like to get it. They patiently try to help and advise. They really want me to get it, too. So I keep looking.

Nicodemus was like that. John, who was one of Jesus’ closest friends while he was on earth, tells us that Nicodemus was a Pharisee; one of a group who were deeply passionate about their faith. They knew the good that God had for His people and how much He loved them. But they had some very real and legitimate concerns about how the Jews could be drawn away from God by philosophical and religious influences of other nations and cultures. Pharisees worked hard at guarding the hearts of God’s people. We like to dump on them for working too hard. Making too many rules, making the whole thing cumbersome. Getting uptight at little things. We call them “legalists” and thank God that we’re not like that.

But Nicodemus, and others, were not entirely stuck in the mud. They were wise enough, humble enough, to know that they didn’t have God all figured out and someday He’d have more to say than 10 commandments and a whole lot of rules, and they’d better not be asleep at the switch when it happened.

Nicodemus and friends found Jesus very interesting. There was definitely something going on there beyond cool stories and sleight of hand. He wasn’t just a nice guy who knew a lot. He was extremely 3D. N & Co. realized that and they went to work trying to refocus in order to figure out the picture. They listened and followed and asked questions.

Everything they saw fit with everything they heard. Jesus wasn’t a fake. He wasn’t loopy. But he might be dangerous.

These guys cared genuinely about keeping people in line with God and Jesus was saying things just different enough to make them nervous.

All we know about Nicodemus is that 1. he went to the trouble of getting alone with Jesus and asking some questions, 2. he risked his reputation to give Jesus a fair hearing and 3. when it came down to it, he made the choice to step up and take ownership of his respect and love for, and relationship with Jesus. We don’t hear anything else about Nico.

Tradition says he became a Christ follower and I think he probably did. If so, he would have sacrificed a lot: prestige, power, family maybe, reputation. Maybe, in those three turning point moments, he found himself wishing he didn’t know. Life was good before Jesus. Obeying the rules was easier. Simpler. Walking through this relationship is a whole other layer of paint.

But in exchange, he would have fulfilled his mission as a true Pharisee. To know God’s voice and obey.

To look into the depths of God and see what’s hidden there. Love. Truth. Life.

r

Popular posts from this blog

The Merciful

Tony hadn't been up this early in – well – ever, maybe. He thought there'd been a few times in college when he'd still been up at this hour, but that was different. Nobody should ever get up at 4:00 am on a Sunday. He tripped over something that wasn't there on the way to Shane's door, had to try twice to grab the door knob before he got it turned and the door open a crack, mumbled something into the darkness, heard a mumble back and shuffled off to the bathroom. Turned on the light and ducked his head to get away from it. What had he been thinking? Why had this seemed like a good idea? He was aware of only seeing what was directly in front of him. His peripheral vision hadn't turned on yet. It occurred to him that if an axe murderer had to choose a good time to hide behind the shower curtain, this would be the day. He opened it just to be sure. Nobody there. Even the axe murderers were still in bed. Everybody was still in bed. Except, ap...

The Meek

Shane was going to be a vet. He'd never wanted anything else and he never would. His marks were good enough, even for a scholarship at Western. Which Tony was actively praying for. For now he was working at the animal shelter where he'd volunteered as a kid and he was learning a lot. He was younger than he should officially be for some jobs, but everybody knew him and knew that if he didn't think he could handle something, he'd say so. The shelter staff was just the director, the vet and himself. Everything else was done by volunteers, especially on the weekend. His favourites were Artie and Eloise. Hippies now for like 50 years or something, they had matching long grey braids, and matching heart tattoos on their left hands. They looked after adoptions on the weekend. Busy days, but they were kind and warm and absolutely impossible with paperwork. One time, Artie had actually filled in a form upside down. Shane thought it mu...

Those Who Mourn

It was in July 1963 that Walt met Allen.  And November when he’d lost him. Five months. Walt had just started as pastor of St. Anthony’s Anglican.  He and Esther had spent nearly 13 years at St. Stephen’s.  Their first home.  Their first church.  Where they’d left little Faith. It had been hard to leave, especially knowing the tiny grave would be an hour’s drive away now. They promised each other they’d come and visit, but he wondered. Esther would be teaching all week, and Walt worked Sundays, and he knew from experience that Saturdays had a way of filling up.  He worried that the little plaque on the ground would get lost in the grass and stepped on and cracked or something. He’d lie awake worrying about that. One of the things he’d inherited from his predecessor at St. Anthony’s was a soup kitchen. St. Stephen’s hadn’t had one. It was in a small town and it didn’t seem to be necessary, but this was an actual ci...