The Miracle of Conversion

Lord, we come before you today knowing that we cannot do anything in our own strength, but with yours, we can accomplish great things. We pray that the Holy Spirit would illuminate your Word as we study it, so that we may truly know and resemble Jesus. Bless us, Lord, as we aim to bless you. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

According to a Barna Group study conducted in 2019 among people in their twenties who were raised in Christian homes, how many of these once-declared Christians remain steadfast in their faith? The study divided respondents into four categories. Ninety percent identified as prodigals, nomads, or habituals. Prodigals are those who grew up in a Christian context but have since abandoned their faith entirely. They no longer call themselves Christians. Nomads still identify as Christians but have stopped attending church and avoid Christian communities altogether. Then there are habituals: those who still attend church but aren’t convinced by the Bible or the gospel. They’re on shaky ground when it comes to what they believe. Only about ten percent of young adults raised in the church—one in ten—have remained resilient disciples, still practicing their faith today.

I don’t know if that surprises me, but it bothers me. Have you thought about why this is happening? I fear, brothers and sisters, that at least part of our struggle is how poorly we, the modern church, have understood and taught the doctrine of conversion. The Bible describes conversion as a true miracle. It’s death to life, blindness to sight, darkness to light, being born again—something chiefly God does. Yet modern churches often reduce it to a decision. Yes, conversion involves a choice, but it’s more than that. The Barna Group study shows that many have decided without truly converting.

So, beloved, I would commend this to you: we must get conversion right. If we don’t, we won’t be a good church. We’ll lead people to think they’re saved when they’re not, and count them among us even if they don’t come to church or live lives incompatible with the Bible. Our church will look like the world, with the world living within it. That’s not good.

Let’s look at John 3:1 and hear Jesus speak on conversion:

“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, saying, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter his mother’s womb again and be born?’ Jesus answered, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel when I tell you, “You must be born again.” The wind blows wherever it pleases, and you hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.’

“Jesus answered, ‘Are you a teacher of Israel and yet do not understand these things? Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak what we know and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you earthly things and you did not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.’”

This is the word of the Lord. Amen.

The man, the mess, the miracle, and the means. Those are my four points for the morning: the man, the mess, the miracle, and the means.

We meet the man in verse 1. Nicodemus is a notable figure in his time: both a Pharisee and a leader among the Jews. Being a Pharisee back then was quite an honor. It implied that you were highly educated and influential. The Pharisees were teachers of the Torah, the Old Testament Scriptures, and spent years studying the Written Law and Oral Traditions of their time. For that reason, they tended to view themselves as the spiritual elite of ancient Israel.

Nicodemus, in particular, wasn’t your average Pharisee. He’s called a ruler of the Jews in verse 1 and a teacher of Israel in verse 10, likely indicating that he was part of the Sanhedrin—a seventy-one-member ruling council made up of Israel’s religious crème de la crème. Nicodemus was intelligent and well-respected, held great authority, and had wealth as well. He was quite influential. That’s why his opening statement in verse 2 carries weight: “Rabbi,” he says, “we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one could perform the signs you do without God being with him.”

Now, “Rabbi” is a term of respect; you could translate it as “teacher” or “master.” More often than not, it was a term a pupil used to address a teacher. So for Nicodemus to refer to Jesus as his rabbi—this unknown Galilean man with no formal training—well, let’s just call it noteworthy. I think it hints at what might be going on in Nicodemus’s heart. He does appear to possess some degree of faith.

But imagine Nicodemus approaching Jesus and saying, “You’re a teacher sent by God,” only for Jesus to respond, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Doesn’t that seem like an odd reply? Why would Jesus say something so unexpected after receiving such high praise? What is Jesus going on about? Why is he so sharp with poor little Nicodemus?

There are several hints in our passage and the verses just before it that help explain this. But before we look at them, let’s note how Jesus’ approach differs from what we often see in churches today. Usually, when someone expresses an interest in Jesus, we’re trained to respond with seeker-sensitive methods. What have we always seen happen? Our training has been to try to save people, right? We explain the gospel, ask if they believe it, and tell them that if they do, they’ll be saved. Sometimes we pray with them, lead them in a prayer, or take them up front to meet the pastor. That’s largely what we’ve grown up seeing and being taught.

Yet Jesus takes a distinctive approach, doesn’t he? No prayers, hand-holding, or “Romans Road” strategies. You might think of Jesus as a poor evangelist: maybe he just missed his shot with Nicodemus. Not even Jesus can win them all. Well, obviously that can’t be right. Jesus knows exactly what he’s doing, and he understands Nicodemus inside and out. There are no secrets from him, especially when it comes to Nicodemus’s mixed motives.

Glance with me at chapter 2, verse 23. These verses lead directly into our passage about Nicodemus. Verse 23 says, “Many believed in his name,” referring to Jesus, “when they saw the signs he was doing.” Circle that word “signs.” But Jesus didn’t entrust himself to them. Even though many professed belief, he knew everyone and didn’t need anyone else’s testimony about human beings, because he already knew what was in their hearts. He knows what’s really going on deep down. We can fool others; we might even fool ourselves. But we can’t fool Jesus. He knows what is in man. Notice that even among those who profess to believe in those last verses of chapter 2, Jesus doesn’t necessarily entrust himself to them, because he knows the inward reality of their hearts.

Back to chapter 3, verse 1: Nicodemus comes to Jesus, evidently impressed by his signs. That’s hint number one. Nicodemus is all about these signs. Then, in verse 2, we read that Nicodemus comes by night. He comes in the darkness, when it isn’t light out. Did he come at night to avoid being seen with Jesus? Maybe it’s an act of cowardice. John certainly means for Nicodemus’s nocturnal visit to reflect badly on him. After all, just a few verses later, Jesus talks about people who prefer darkness to light because of their evil deeds. That’s hint number two: Nicodemus comes by night.

A third hint lies in verse 11, where Jesus tells Nicodemus, “You do not receive our testimony.” Despite appearing to have faith initially, Nicodemus finds his conversation ending with Jesus telling him that he doesn’t accept his words. Look more closely at verse 11. Here Jesus shifts from speaking to Nicodemus individually to speaking to a group. Nicodemus’s greeting wasn’t, “Hey, Jesus, I know you’re a teacher come from God,” but “We know”—me and the boys. Jesus mirrors that in verse 11: “Truly, truly, I say to you.” That “you” is plural: you all, you Pharisees. We—me and my boys, the disciples—speak what we know and bear witness to what we have seen, but you all do not receive our testimony.

You see what’s going on here? It seems to me that Nicodemus is acting as an emissary for the religious dignitaries. He’s here as a spokesperson for the Pharisees, scrutinizing Jesus, trying to figure him out. He’s unsure how to handle Jesus or what his intentions are. Perhaps he’s even considering Jesus as a potential ally: together they could challenge Roman occupation and bring about the kingdom of God. You know, I don’t actually know. That’s merely a guess, but it’s plausible.

What Jesus says in verse 11, however, is clear: “Listen here, buddy, we’re not on the same side. You’re not on my team, Nicodemus. You’re team Pharisee; I’m team Jesus. You haven’t received our testimony.” This Pharisee appears polite and respectful, with what looks like deep faith. But in truth, he’s got no idea what he’s talking about. He’s come to Jesus asking about the kingdom of God, but he’s so spiritually lost he can’t see it himself. Jesus knows exactly who Nicodemus is: a man too blinded by darkness and pride to bow at his feet as the Christ. This isn’t friendly chit-chat between peers planning kingdoms. Nicodemus desperately needs saving.

Brothers and sisters, such is the human condition. Such is the way of things: we’re all a big old mess, veiled in darkness. We tend to overestimate ourselves, I reckon. We give ourselves a little pep talk: “You know, I’m not perfect, sure, but no one is.” We might acknowledge that we need a touch-up, but certainly not a makeover. Perhaps just a fresh coat of paint. After all, we could do better. But new construction from the ground up? Come on, I’m not that bad.

“Yes, friend, you are,” says my conscience. And truly, we all are. Our situation is dire. The Bible describes mankind as trapped in spiritual darkness, rebels deserving punishment, unable to resist sin. We’re literally hell-bent on sinning, and there’s nothing we can do about it on our own. The Bible calls us enemies of God, lovers of wickedness, participants in darkness. But that’s a bit strong, isn’t it? Participants in darkness?

Guys, think for a moment of the worst things you’ve done—the skeletons in your closet that you’d never say out loud or share with anyone. Consider what you’ve done or would do, not just your good thoughts but your evil ones too. Admit it: we’re all a mess. Jesus knew that. He said we needed more than a touch-up or a little help. He said we need a real miracle. We need the miracle of the new birth. We must be born again.

It’s a very cool little Greek phrase with a clever double meaning. The same word can signify “again” or “above.” It shows up later in John chapter 3, verse 31, in the phrase “He who comes from above.” Jesus is telling Nicodemus that to see the kingdom of God, one must be born from above. We need a miracle from on high, a rebirth by God himself.

But look at the irony. Nicodemus is lost in his confusion, unable to grasp the deeper meaning. He takes Jesus’ words too literally and asks, “What do you mean, Jesus? How can a man be born again when he’s old?” I’m not going to reenter my mother’s womb anytime soon, am I? Born again? Nope, clearly this fellow hasn’t got the memo.

So Jesus explains it again in verse 5: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” He goes on to say, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” This time, Jesus alludes to a famous Old Testament passage that Nicodemus was almost certainly familiar with. It’s in Ezekiel chapter 36—the very first thing we read today. Isn’t that funny?

In that chapter, God speaks to Israel while they’re captive because of their sins. He tells them, “Listen up! There’s a day coming when I’ll bring you all back home. This time, when I return you, things will be different.” Here’s how they’ll be different. I’ll read the passage again: “Thus says the Lord God: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I’m about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came.” Now turn up your ears. Listen to this: “I will sprinkle clean water upon you.” Didn’t Jesus just say something about water in John chapter 3? God goes on: You shall be cleansed of your impurities, and I will give you a new heart and a new spirit. I’ll remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. Then my Spirit will dwell within you, guiding you to follow my decrees diligently.

This is the passage Jesus refers to when he tells Nicodemus about being born of water and the Spirit. It’s essentially as if he’s saying, “Nico, you need a total heart transplant: God cleaning you up, making you new, rebirthing you from above. It’s all about Ezekiel chapter 36.”

Make no mistake, friends: conversion isn’t just turning over a new leaf or resolving to be moral. It’s not even religion! It takes divine intervention to truly change someone’s heart. It’s God who makes us walk in his ways and obey his rules. Take Nicodemus. He was already religious, as pious as they came. But becoming new isn’t just about getting religion; it’s about transformation. It’s about being made alive.

Have you ever had the experience I’m talking about? Did you feel as if God breathed life into your soul? Was there ever a moment when your heart underwent a profound transformation, shifting from embracing your sins to loathing them, and from disregarding and disobeying God to joyfully following him? Was there ever a moment when your eyes were opened, allowing your heart to feel truly free?

I love the way Charles Wesley puts it in the hymn we sang earlier: “Long my imprisoned spirit lay, fast bound in sin and nature’s night; Thine eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke, the dungeon flamed with light. My chains fell off, my heart was free; I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.” Have you known the joy of conversion? Have you experienced the miracle? Has God shone his light into your dark dungeon, breathed life into your dead body, and by his very Spirit made you alive?

I’ll tell you this much with great confidence: you have not truly been reborn if nothing about you has changed. Now, I know that, as Miss Peggy shared, some of us were converted at a very young age; perhaps we can’t even recall a time before. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t changes. Maybe ask your mom and dad, “Was there a change?” Even in a conversion at a young age, there’s always change.

Conversion, at its core, means receiving a new heart. That’s why I’m deeply worried about the prodigals, nomads, and those habituals reported by the Barna Group. Generations upon generations of men, women, and children have at one time or another shown an interest in Jesus—perhaps even with a dose of sincerity—yet have not left their old hearts behind. Their lives didn’t change. They remain contentedly messy, believing they no longer need a miracle. They think they’re headed for heaven, becoming “disobedient disciples” on their way to hell. Clearly, such a church isn’t good.

The new birth is God’s work. Yes, we choose to follow Jesus. Conversion involves a decision, right? But conversion itself is not merely about making a decision. While it involves deciding something, the new birth isn’t ultimately our choice to make. That lies with God.

Consider verse 8. This is a wild verse—crazy and awesome. I love it. John 3:8 says, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Man has no control over the wind; likewise, he has no control over the Spirit. In the new birth, God’s Spirit blows as he wishes, doing whatever pleases him, completely free and beholden to no one. This is a miracle God performs, and he chooses when and upon whom he performs it. That’s pretty plain to see, right?

The wind blows where it wishes, leaving us to wonder, “Well, what is poor old Nicodemus meant to do? He’s in quite the pickle.” He can’t save himself; he can’t birth himself; he can’t enter the kingdom of God on his own. He needs a miracle, and Jesus implies that this miracle depends on God’s will. So how is Nicodemus to receive it? He can’t bottle the wind and save it for later. He can’t tame it, woo it, or force its hand. What’s he to do? Just stand back, hold his finger in the air, and try to get in the wind’s path when he feels it blowing?

Beloved, Nicodemus is not left without instruction, and neither are we. God solves our problem with a miracle only he can perform. And even this miracle happens through specific means. Look with me at verse 13 and see the means God prescribes for us. John 3:13–15 says, “No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

Once again, Jesus is teaching from the Old Testament. He’s teaching the supposed expert, Nicodemus, from the Bible, referencing a story in Numbers chapter 21. Let me tell you what happens. Israel, as usual, complains and rebels again. This time God sends a swarm of fiery serpents whose bites kill many of them. God then instructs Moses to make a bronze serpent and set it high on a pole. The people are supposed to look at it—kind of weird! If they do, they’ll live; if they don’t, they’ll die. Strange story, isn’t it?

Friends, the serpent points to Israel’s ancient foe, Satan, who came as a serpent in the Garden of Eden and persuaded the first man and woman to rebel against God. Israel likewise has been bitten by that snake. They’ve been infected by the venom. And what can heal them? What can save them? God can. God can defeat the serpent. So God strings up the serpent on a pole and has everyone behold it. Jeer at this defeated enemy; scoff at God’s defeated enemy, this unclean, filthy creature. It’s dead. God has strung it up on a pole. He’s defeated it. He’s put it to death. That’s the idea in Numbers 21: God heals his people by conquering their enemy.

But how in the world does this relate to Jesus and Nicodemus? In the same way God had ancient Israel gaze upon their defeated enemy and live, the church should look and live. Jesus was hung on a pole, treated like God’s enemy, as something unclean, something filthy—even like you and me. He was treated as if he were the most vile sinner, bearing all our sins so we could become God’s righteousness. God cursed him, damned him, punished him for us.

If there’s any hope of being made new, look to him. Behold your Savior bleeding on that cursed tree. He suffers in your stead. The weight of worry bore down on him like thorns pressed into his brow and nails driven through his hands. Blood flows from his battered body, precious blood able to make a person clean, new, alive; it can even bring about a new birth from above. Look upon Jesus, entrust yourself to him, follow him, thank him, and find joy in him.

Friends, we cannot domesticate the Spirit of God. We just can’t control the wind. We can’t make it blow on us when things are calm. But we can look to Jesus. That’s how God performs his miracles. Want the wind of God’s Spirit to blow upon you? Want to be born again? Want to experience true conversion? Then look to Jesus. Behold Christ your Savior, entrust yourself to him, and live.

Which, by the way, is exactly what Nicodemus did. Not here—not in John chapter 3 specifically. He doesn’t feature much more in this chapter. You have no idea what happens to him. He asks in verse 9, “How can these things be?” Then, poof, he vanishes. No further mention of him in the chapter. But that’s not the end of Nicodemus’s story.

Look with me at John chapter 19. Jesus is crucified in John 19, and by verse 38, he is dead. I’ll pick up reading there: “After these things Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus. And Pilate gave him permission.” So Joseph took his body away. Nicodemus came too, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing approximately seventy-five pounds. That’s quite a sum of money. They took Jesus’ body and wrapped it in linen cloths with the spices, following the burial custom of the Jews. There was a garden near where he was crucified, and in that garden was a new tomb where no one had yet been laid. Since it was Preparation Day, a time of special preparation before the Sabbath, they placed Jesus there because the tomb was nearby.

Isn’t that simply stunning? Wow. That same Nicodemus who once came to Jesus by night now boldly helps take care of his body by day. The same Nicodemus who formerly was on “team Pharisee” is now unashamedly “team Jesus.” That, my friends, is the miracle of conversion. It changes a man through the cross. It takes our mess and miraculously transforms us into something new and better. It gives us courage, imparts boldness, makes us good—not perfect, mind you—but certainly on team Jesus.

Friends, I want our church to lead men and women to genuinely experience true conversion. I don’t want to rush them through a process for my own satisfaction. We can’t manipulate the Spirit of God with music, lighting, or endless altar calls. Instead, let’s trust God and let him work his miracles. Let’s look to the cross, the means he has provided.

Beloved, I am certain that if we proceed this way, we shall witness conversions like Nicodemus’s in our very own congregation. We’ll see the lost saved, the captive freed, the blind granted sight. Darkness shall yield to light, and death to life. We’ll see folks being born again, born from above. We’ll indeed see true conversions and, God willing, become a good church.

Let’s pray together. Lord, what a wonderful story you’ve given us! Thank you for including it in the Bible. Thank you for the miracle of the new birth. Oh Lord, where would we be if your wind had not blown upon us, if your Spirit had not wooed us to yourself? Thank you, Lord, for saving us. And Lord, I pray for anyone here today who might be unsure about their standing or whether they’ve experienced the new birth. May your Spirit confirm them in Christ as Savior, so they’ll look to Jesus and live, as Nicodemus was made new.

Friends, we respond to the Lord’s Word in a variety of ways, but perhaps the sweetest way is by singing. Let’s stand and sing to the Lord now.