It stands as one of the most famous verses in all of Scripture. It is among the very first that we memorize in Sunday School. Not so many years ago, and maybe still, you could not watch a sporting event on television without at least one person holding up a banner with its chapter and verse on it: John 3:16.

But for as much attention as we shower upon this verse, we don’t talk a whole lot about the story around it. What’s the set up? What happens around it? What are the circumstances that allow Jesus to speak these profound words? Well, our Gospel lesson today is the bulk of the 3^rd chapter of John. It is the story of those words.

It begins with a visitor to Jesus, one of those wonderful side characters that pop up somewhat unexpectedly in the Gospel. This one is probably an even greater surprise, for Nicodemus is a Pharisee. Wait a minute? Aren’t they the villains? Aren’t they Jesus’ enemies? Well, some of them are certainly, opposed to Jesus because they see him as a threat to their power and prestige. But not all of them. Some, like Nicodemus, have heard Jesus speak. They’ve watched his miracles and rather than scoff, they are amazed. They are curious. Who is this? How does he do these things?

Yet keenly aware that many of his peers do not share his curiosity, Nicodemus comes under the cover of darkness, comes by night to Jesus. And they have a conversation. Jesus knows Nicodemus’ curiosity and his position, his knowledge, his education, so Jesus goes deeper than he usually does. He talks about the kingdom of God. No one, he says, can see it without being born from above. Now the word Jesus uses that we translate here as “from above” is ambiguous. It could mean above, anew, again, which is why if you look at this passage in different translations, you will find this verse translated differently in almost every one.

Nicodemus is confused, as often are we, by this ambiguity. What do you mean? He retorts. How can one be born again after growing old? Can you enter the mother’s womb a second time? He’s running with the “again” translation. (He’d make a good Baptist.) But regardless of all that, he’s really missed Jesus’ entire point, as so often do we.

What must I do to be born again? That’s a question often asked by those seeking Christ. But it’s the wrong question, just as Nicodemus’ question is the wrong question. We miss the point. Jesus’ teaching here is profoundly simple. What must I do to be born? Well, what did you do to be born the first time?

Did you somehow convince your parents to conceive you? No, they did that on their own. Did you talk your mother into giving birth to you? Did you crawl out of your mother’s womb under your own power? No, Mom did all the work there too. What did you do to be born the first time? Absolutely nothing. It just happened.

Jesus tries to drive this point home to Nicodemus by another tact. He starts talking about the wind, another word in Greek and Aramaic that has ambiguous meaning, because it can also mean “spirit.” It goes where it chooses, Jesus says. You hear it. You know it exists, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it goes. In other words, you cannot control it.

But that’s precisely what we want: control. We want to do something to save ourselves. We want to do something to be born anew, born from above, born again. We always want to do, because doing means controlling. But Jesus reminds us that like the wind, the Spirit of God will not be controlled by us. It goes where it chooses.

Nicodemus, I think, starts to get this point. Because his next question has a hint of fear to it. The same fear we feel within when we recognize at last that we are not and never will be truly in control of our own destiny. That just as there is nothing we can do to control our own birth, there is also nothing we can do to control our own salvation. “How can these things be?” Nicodemus stammers out nervously. It’s a question of fear. It also often our question. If we’re not in control, then who is?

Then Jesus answers his concerns. He tells him who and he tells him how. You want to know how the kingdom of God happens. You want to know how you will be saved. You want to know how you will be born from above. Let me tell you. “For just 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.”

What’s Jesus talking about here? It should be obvious to us, even though it probably wasn’t to Nicodemus. He’s talking about the cross. He’s talking about going to Calvary and dying. Jesus is saying that our salvation comes by his death and resurrection. His actions, not ours. He’s the one calling the shots. He’s the one in control. And he chooses to lay down his life for all of us.

Who is in control? Christ is. How will he save us? By the cross. It’s just that simple. All that is left for us is to trust that Christ will do what he says he will. That, my friends, is the definition of faith. It is the definition of belief, to believe that Christ can and will do what he says he will.

But we want control. And control is disbelief. We do not trust that God will indeed save us through Christ. Instead, we belief that Christ’s dying upon the cross is not enough. So we want to call our own shots, why we want to know what to do to be born anew, to control the wind.

So how do we cross this divide of distrust? This chasm of unbelief? What will make us trust that Christ will indeed save us as he promises? Perhaps, one thing is to know why. Why does Christ do all this?

And that is the very question that Jesus answers next of Nicodemus. It is that familiar verse that we so love and know. Why does Jesus do all this? Say it with me. “For God so loved…”

There it is. There’s the answer: Love. Again, profoundly simple. God loves us. Christ loves us. Christ has died for us.

What must I do to be born again? What must I do to be saved? These are the wrong questions. Because it’s not nor will ever be about what we do. It is and always will be about what Jesus has done. And what does he do? Live, die, and rise again for our sakes.

What must I do to be born again? Nothing, just as you did nothing to be born the first time. What must I do to be saved? Nothing, Christ does it all for us.

And why does he do all this? He just loves us. That’s all. Amen.