Who Holds the World?
Preacher: Kevin Kim Readings: John 3:1-21
In a time when global headlines feel unsettling and the future can seem uncertain, many of us are asking deeper questions: Who is really in control? Where is God in all of this?This Sunday, we’ll explore Jesus’ nighttime conversation with Nicodemus in John 3:1–21—a story about uncertainty, courage, and new beginnings. Jesus speaks not of self-improvement or religious achievement, but of being born from above—receiving new life as a gift from God.
Whether you come with faith, questions, or quiet doubts, you are warmly invited to join us as we listen for God’s voice, step gently toward the light, and discover the life God offers here and now.
Sermon Text
The world we live in feels increasingly unstable.
Across the globe, we hear stories of uncertainty and disruption.
In places like Venezuela, long-standing economic hardship has deeply affected everyday life.
In regions connected to Iran, tensions continue to raise concern far beyond national borders.
Even places like Greenland, once distant from global attention, have become part of wider international conversations.
Alongside these developments, we face the ongoing challenges of climate stress, resource pressure, and conflict.
Day after day, the news reminds us how interconnected—and how fragile—our world can be.
And in moments like these, many people quietly begin to ask deeper questions:
What kind of world are we living in?
Who is holding it together?
And where does God stand in the midst of all this?
Beneath all of these questions lies one deeper, shared anxiety:
Who is really in control?
And whose hands are shaping my life—and this fragile moment in history?
But these are not new questions. Two thousand years ago, Israel lived in a world just as unstable.
They were under Roman military occupation. Crushed by heavy taxation.
Living under constant threat of violence.
Their national destiny lay in Roman hands.
Their leaders faced constant tension between political realities and religious commitments.
And the people asked:
Where is God now?
Can God’s kingdom come in an empire like this? Who will save us?
It was in that moment— with those same questions— that one man came to Jesus.
His name was Nicodemus.
- Believing Because of Signs — Nicodemus’ Position (John 2:23–3:2)
John chapter 3 does not begin suddenly.
It is intentionally connected to the end of chapter 2. At the close of John 2, we read:
“Many believed in His name when they saw the signs He was doing.
But Jesus did not entrust Himself to them…
for He knew what was in everyone.” (John 2:23–25)
Many believed— yet Jesus did not trust their belief. Why?
Because it was not a surrendered faith.
It was an evaluative faith.
They believed because they saw something impressive.
They assessed Jesus by evidence.
They kept themselves in the position of judge.
And then John writes:
“Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus…”
That word “now” is not casual.
John is saying:
One of those people has just stepped onto the stage.
And Nicodemus’ very first words confirm it:
“No one can do these signs you do unless God is with him.” (3:2)
Nicodemus believes—but only as far as the signs allow.
He observes. He assesses. He evaluates Jesus.
And John has already told us something crucial:
Jesus knows what is in the human heart, as it was in chapter 2.
So when Jesus speaks next in chapter 3 here,
it is not sudden, not rude, not random.
It is a precise spiritual diagnosis.
- A Man Who Came at Night — A Controlled Encounter (John 3:1–2)
Nicodemus is introduced carefully:
A Pharisee. A leader of the Jews. Israel’s teacher.
He is not an unbeliever. He is religiously successful. Educated. Respected. Devout.
He knows Scripture. He keeps the law.
He teaches others how to be faithful.
And yet, John adds one quiet detail:
“He came to Jesus at night.”
Why night?
Perhaps fear. But more deeply—control.
Nicodemus wants a private conversation.
No witnesses. No exposure.
He wants to ask questions without risking his reputation.
He wants to explore Jesus without allowing the encounter to change him.
So he says:
“We know you are a teacher from God…”
That is not faith. That is assessment.
“We rate you highly.”
“We approve—so far.”
- Jesus’ First Words — “You Must Be Born Again / Born from Above” (John 3:3)
Jesus does not respond to the compliment.
He does not discuss the signs.
Instead, He says:
“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God
unless they are born again—born from above.”
This is not correction. It is revealing the heart.
Nicodemus can see miracles—
but he cannot see the kingdom.
So Jesus says, in effect:
Before you see more evidence,
your way of seeing must change.
This is not about adding information.
It is about receiving life.
Nicodemus panics.
“How can a man be born when he is old?”
And finally he asks:
“How can this be?”
It is the moment when a familiar way of seeing the world starts to give way.
- Water and the Spirit — New Birth, Not Repair (John 3:5)
Jesus continues:
“No one can enter the kingdom of God
unless they are born of water and the Spirit.”
Nicodemus knows this language.
It comes straight from Ezekiel:
“I will sprinkle clean water on you…
I will give you a new heart
and put a new spirit within you.” (Ezekiel 36)
Jesus is saying something deeply unsettling:
Nicodemus, you do not need adjustment.
You do not need improvement.
You do not need refinement.
You need new birth.
Not a better version of the old self—
but life from above.
This is not moral repair. This is creation.
- The Wind — A Kingdom Beyond Control (John 3:8)
Jesus now turns to an image everyone understands:
“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”
The wind. The key word here is pneuma—wind, breath, Spirit.
The wind:
cannot be seen
cannot be controlled
cannot be predicted
yet its effects are undeniable
Jesus’ point is clear:
New birth is not something humans produce. It cannot be scheduled, engineered, or managed.
It is the gift of God’s Spirit.
The wind has sound. It leaves evidence.
Trees bend. Dust moves. Direction changes.
But you cannot own it.
You cannot contain it in words,
or bend it to your will.
Being born from above is not something we master.
It is something we receive.
This is creation language.
Genesis 2— God breathes life into dust.
Ezekiel 37— the Spirit breathes life into dry bones.
New birth is not moral improvement.
It is resurrection life breaking in.
- The Bronze Serpent — New Birth as a Shift of Gaze (John 3:14–15)
Jesus then recalls an old story Nicodemus knows well:
“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness…”
The people were dying.
They did not heal themselves.
They did not earn rescue.
They looked. That was all.
Jesus says:
This is what new birth is like.
Not self-fixing.
Not self-saving.
A change of gaze.
Stop looking inward—to your goodness, your failure, your control.
Look to the One who will be lifted up.
New birth begins not with effort,
but with trusting attention.
- A Modern Nicodemus — Lee Strobel: From Control to Surrender
Lee Strobel did not come to faith seeking God. He came to disprove Christianity.
A legal journalist at the Chicago Tribune,
trained to evaluate evidence,
to cross-examine claims,
to control the narrative.
When his wife became a Christian,
Strobel did not celebrate.
He panicked.
He assumed she had been emotionally manipulated.
So he decided to investigate Christianity— not to believe,
but to dismantle it.
Like Nicodemus, he came with credentials.
Like Nicodemus, he came at night—
quietly, cautiously, analytically.
He interviewed scholars.
Examined historical claims.
Evaluated resurrection evidence.
And something unsettling happened.
The faith he meant to manage
began to confront him.
The evidence did not collapse.
His control did.
Strobel later wrote:
“I realised this faith was not something I could keep at arm’s length.
It was not an object to be studied.
It was a reality demanding response.”
Like Nicodemus,
he discovered that Jesus does not merely invite evaluation—He invites surrender.
Strobel reached the moment Nicodemus reaches in John 3:
The moment when the question changes from
“Is this true?”
to
“What will I do if it is?”
That is the turning point of new birth.
- Eternal Life — God’s Life Beginning Now (John 3:16–21)
“Whoever believes is not condemned…”
Eternal life is not a future reward.
It is God’s life—entering human lives now.
A new beginning.
A new orientation.
A new belonging.
Conclusion – From Night to Light
“Light has come into the world,
but people loved darkness rather than light…”
The issue, Jesus says, is not a lack of evidence.
It is not the absence of signs.
It is the fear of being seen.
Nicodemus came to Jesus at night—
careful, guarded, wanting to understand without being exposed.
He wanted answers, but not yet surrender.
He wanted clarity, but not cost.
And yet, John’s Gospel does not leave Nicodemus in the dark.
Near the very end of the story, after Jesus has been crucified,
Nicodemus appears one final time.
Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away.
He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night.
Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes—about seventy-five pounds.
Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen.
This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs.
John tells us that Joseph of Arimathea went to Pilate to ask for Jesus’ body—
and Nicodemus went with him.
The same Nicodemus who once came secretly at night
now comes openly, in daylight, at great risk.
And he does not come empty-handed.
He brings a mixture of myrrh and aloes—about seventy-five pounds.
An extraordinary amount.
Costly. Public. Impossible to hide.
This is no longer a man managing distance.
This is no longer cautious evaluation.
Nicodemus says nothing in this scene.
John records no speech. Only action.
Sometimes new birth does not announce itself with words, but with courage.
With costly love. With a willingness to be seen.
The man who once asked, “How can this be?”
now entrusts himself to Jesus—even in death.
This is what being born from above looks like.
Not perfection, but transformation.
Not certainty, but surrender.
Not control, but trust.
Nicodemus came at night—
but he did not stay there.
He moved, slowly, faithfully, into the light.
And today, the question remains for us:
Are we evaluating Jesus—
or surrendering?
Are we staying in the dark—
or stepping into the light?
The kingdom of God is not entered by understanding.
It is entered by being born from above—by water and the Spirit.
So today, quietly, gently—
may we, like Nicodemus, take one step toward the light.
Amen.