Drawing in

This sermon is the fourth installment in a series titled, “Drawing in, diving out”

Drawing In
John 3:14-21

I.
Our sermon series draws near its end as we draw ever closer to Holy Week. We have been exploring the theme of drawing in and driving out. The first week we talked about the cosmic battle between God and Satan; the second week we talked about the roads to Caesarea Philippi and Golgotha; last week we went deeper into the theme of driving out, and this week, we go deeper into the theme of drawing in.

II.
John 3:16 is critical to understanding the way in which Jesus draws all people to himself. But it’s a hard passage to hear with fresh ears. You know how when you say the same word over and over and over again it completely loses its meaning and becomes an abstract sound? John 3:16 has become like that for us. We’ve heard it so much, it’s lost its power. But it is still powerful, if we can hear it anew. And I hope you will today.
John 3:16 is probably the most well-known verse in the entire Bible, and as such, it often gets misused. Often preachers use John 3:16 as something like a religious guilt-trip, with the emphasis on the “whosoever believes” part. The emphasis is placed upon our action, our ability to believe, with the implication that there are a whole lot of people who don’t believe and will be punished for it. This kind of preaching is used to guilt and shame people into a relationship with God.
The problem with emphasizing that piece as much as some people do is that it makes the love part at the beginning a whole lot harder to believe; as if God’s love is only for a select few believers and not for the entire world. To understand this passage, we have to read it in order. Meaning that the most important thing to understand is that “God so loves the world.” That’s the heart of the message. This passage is about what God is doing, not about what we are able to do or not do. And if God loves the world, then God doesn’t guilt anyone into anything, because I think we can all agree that true love has no use for guilt.

III.
I recently read a piece of ancient poetry written by the 16th century Spanish mystic, John of the Cross. John writes,

En los amores perfectos
ley se requería:
se haga semejante
el amante a quien quería;

In perfect love,
This law holds:
That the lover become
Like the one he loves.

I was struck by these lines—such simple words to convey such a deep idea. I

Immediately thought of my own marriage to Isabel in which I know this law to be true. I have observed for years now that I am not the same person I was before I met her. She, likewise, has changed. We have grown in new directions together, it’s true; but we have also simply grown more alike.

When we first met I only listened to country and rock ‘n’ roll, Isabel mostly to oldies and folk. Neither of us would have chosen the other’s music, and yet—now Isabel has been to two Bruce Springsteen concerts and we danced to Motown at our wedding.

When we first met, Isabel was a vegetarian, and I hated vegetables. She was a gifted cook and I could barely fry an egg. But soon, I came to appreciate a good vegetable, and now cooking is one of my favorite activities.

When we first met, Isabel had little interest in theology. She grew up going to church, yes, but she wasn’t one to find enjoyment in pondering God or the Bible. But after having been married to me almost seven years now, I continue to be astounded at the depth of her theological insights.

Before we met, I couldn’t have cared less about creation care, environmental justice, and gardening. But these are Isabel’s passions. I remember finding it curious that she was so passionate about honoring and taking care of the earth God created. But soon I came to find that same passion burning within me, and I even spent time studying creation care in seminary.

In so many ways we have become like each other, not out of obligation, but out of a deep mutual love. I love the things Isabel loves, not just because she loves them, but because I have come to love them for myself. How true it is that lovers become like the one they love.

IV.
But when John of the Cross wrote these beautiful lines, he wasn’t writing about Isabel and me. He was writing about Jesus. These lines come from one of John’s famous poems on the incarnation. So as I read these lines, I pondered how they might be true of God and me.
First, I contemplated how in loving God, I might become more like God. That seems plausible. We often talk about “chirstlikeness.” We don’t believe that following Jesus will turn us into gods, but we do believe that following Jesus will makes us more like God. We are, after all, created in God’s image.

But then I wondered, how, in a relationship with God, could God become like me? Because that’s what happens to lovers, right? They become like the one they love. But that seemed a strange thing to say about God. God doesn’t change, right? God is perfect and I am imperfect. So that means that God would have to become imperfect in order to become like me. I was so lost in my little thought circle that I failed to realize the truth—and then it hit my like a ton of bricks. It’s so obvious—how could I have missed it!?

God has already become like me. That’s what the incarnation is all about! That’s what John of the Cross meant when he wrote those words. God knows that in order for us to love God, God will have to first become like one of us. And so God makes the first move in this divine love affair by sending his son, Jesus, to dwell with us, to become like one of us. God makes God’s self like us so that we, in love, might become more like him, because:

In perfect love,
This law holds:
That the lover become
Like the one he loves.

V.
In the theology of the Gospel of John, Jesus saves the world not so much through his crucifixion as his incarnation. It’s not just that Jesus died, but that Jesus became a human being, lived, died, was resurrected, and ascended into heaven. The important part is, as they say, “the whole shebang”. Likewise, sin, in John’s gospel, is not understood as moral failings, but rather as a lack of relationship with God. So Jesus comes to save the world by bringing all of humanity back into relationship with God, something he does through the incarnation.

God loves the world so desperately that God wants to be as close to us and as like us as God can be, and this means becoming one of us. But if that’s all it is, then this is just a divine case of “misery loves company;” or to say it another way: “God became a human so that humans wouldn’t have to feel so bad about being human.” But there’s more to it. In love, God becomes like one of us, and in doing so, God starts to transform what it means to be human. When God becomes a human being, the separation, the distance, the divorce that has existed for ages between God and humanity shatters. The broken relationship is mended. Sin is no more. Now God is with us, God is one of us, and because of this, we can become more like God.

The heart of John 3:16 is the passion that exists between two lovers: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son.” And that is how Jesus draws all people to himself, not through a guilt trip, not through punishment, not through shame, not through threats—but through love. True love. Simply put, Jesus became human in order to woo us back to God. God desires to become like us because God desires us. God’s love is enticement, God becomes like us so that we, in turn, may become like God. Not because God is a narcissist and wants everyone to be like God. But because:

In perfect love,
This law holds:
That the lover become
Like the one he loves.

Amen.
​