The Second Sunday in Lent - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr

 

John 3:1-17 - March 1, 2026

Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the cover of darkness. While the other Pharisees condemn Jesus for claiming he’s the Messiah, Nicodemus has seen what Jesus has done. The sick have been healed. The lame walk. The blind see. Nicodemus has studied Scripture. He knows what the prophets have written. He knows that these signs he has witnessed mean something -- only the Son of Man could do these things. He suspects God is at work in Jesus but he’s not ready to say it out loud. So, he comes at night. He cannot risk being seen in the light of day with Jesus. It’s not because he doesn’t have faith, it’s because his faith isn’t brave enough for the daylight.

When they sit down, Nicodemus wants answers. He wants to understand what Jesus is doing and who Jesus truly is. He wants an explanation – something clear, something he can hold on to. But in typical Jesus fashion, Jesus does not give him a definition, or explanation. Instead, Jesus gives him an invitation. Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” In his confusion, Nicodemus asks how can anyone be born again? An then Jesus says, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit”

Jesus doesn’t give Nicodemus a formula. He give him an image – wind. It’s something you cannot see. Something you cannot control. Something you can only receive.

A longtime sailing instructor on the Chesapeake Bay told a story about teaching beginners how to sail. On the first day, new sailors always wanted control. They gripped the wheel tightly. They watched the ropes nervously. They kept asking, “What do I do to make the boat go?” The instructor would smile and say, “You don’t make the boat go. The wind does.”

One student in particular struggled. He kept adjusting everything — pulling ropes, turning hard, overcorrecting — trying to force the boat to move. The boat barely moved. Finally the instructor told him, “Stop fighting. Feel the wind.” He had the student let go of the wheel for a moment and simply watch the sail. Slowly the sail filled. The boat leaned gently. And suddenly they were moving — smoothly across the water, almost effortlessly. The student laughed and said, “I thought sailing was about steering.” The instructor replied, “Sailing is about learning to receive what you cannot control.”

When Nicodemus came to Jesus in the cover of darkness, he was holding the wheel tightly. He wanted certainty as to who Jesus was before he could commit. Jesus answer was that faith is not about steering God. Faith is about learning to raise the sail. We don’t create the wind. We simply turn toward it.

Wind is a strange thing. You cannot see it. You do not know where it comes from or where it is going. But you can always see what it does. There is gentle wind… and there is gusting wind. I may have told you before — I love windchimes. We have several hanging in our backyard. Two are tuned in different keys. Another nearly three feet long with deep sounds. Another sounds almost like a gong. I love sitting on the back porch listening to their music.

For me, those windchimes are a reminder of the Holy Spirit. You cannot see the Spirit — but you hear its song when it moves. Last week, when those strong winds came through our area, branches fell, debris blew across the yard, and my peaceful windchimes were suddenly clanging loudly together. And I realized something: the Spirit is not only present in calm moments. The Spirit is still moving — still present — even when life feels loud, unsettled, or uncertain.

I wonder if this is what Jesus was trying to help Nicodemus understand. The Spirit does not always arrive gently. Sometimes the wind of God carries things away – the old certainties, familiar patterns, the way things have always been – so that we can see the Kingdom of God unfolding around us.

Nicodemus came to Jesus looking for answers. All Jesus had to offer him was wind. Nicodemus wanted faith he could understand before he trusted it. Does that sound familiar? How often do we wait for certainty before we follow? How often do we sit safely in the dark, waiting until faith feels secure? We want explanations before transformation. We want God to show us the destination even before we’ve raised the sail. But, the Spirit doesn’t wait for perfect understanding. The Spirit moves around us in it’s time and asks us to simply trust.

The Spirit is blowing in our lives, every single day. It nudges us toward forgiveness, toward generosity, toward courage, and toward a deeper trust. We have to let go of the wheel and raise the sail.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” The wind is not random. The wind of the Spirit is not sent to confuse us. It is sent because God loves us. God doesn’t wait for perfect faith before loving us. Like Nicodemus, God meets us in the dark. God meets us in all of our questions. God meets us when our faith is not yet brave enough for daylight.

Nicodemus’ journey with Jesus began at night. Finally, by the end of John’s Gospel, Nicodemus steps into the light, carrying spices to honor Jesus’ body. The wind had been moving all along. And that’s good news for us today. We don’t have to understand everything before we follow. We don’t have to control where the Spirit leads. All we have to do is lift the sail. When we lift the sail, turn toward the wind, and loosen our grip on the wheel, we discover that the love of God is already carrying us farther than we could ever steer ourselves alone. Amen.