Being born again is not hard.
It can happen in the day or in the night.
What is often difficult is the time leading up to it,
the moment when Jesus enters a place of darkness
and shines His light.[1]

I once heard a story about a little boy sitting in church with his mother. The pastor was preaching with great passion from the third chapter of Gospel of John, the passage that leads up to perhaps the most famous verse in all of Scripture: “For God so loved the world…” (John 3:16). The preacher kept repeating the same phrase over and over: You must be born again. The little boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve and whispered, “Mommy, have you been born again?” “Yes, sweetheart,” she said. “I have been born again.”

The preacher kept going. You must be born again! The boy whispered again, “Mommy, has Daddy been born again?” “Yes, Daddy has been born again too.” By now you can probably guess the kind of church they were in. The boy thought for a moment and asked, “What about Grandma? Has she been born again?” “Yes, Grandma has been born again.” “And Grandpa?” “Yes, Grandpa too.” The boy paused, looked worried, and said, “We’ve got a real problem. If this keeps going on, we’re going to run out of mommies and daddies.”
In the literal sense the boy imagined, he might have had a point. But Jesus was talking about something deeper. He was shedding light on what happens inside a person before that moment of rebirth.

That is exactly what is happening with Nicodemus in John chapter three. Nicodemus was no ordinary man. He was a respected teacher of Israel, a Pharisee, a member of the religious establishment. Yet he came to Jesus with questions. He came at night. Why at night? Was he simply busy during the day? Was this the only time he could find? Probably not. Nicodemus did not want to be seen with Jesus. But something inside him was stirring. Something was wrestling within him, something waiting to be born. In a way, Nicodemus was in an incubation period of faith. Something was moving inside him the way a mother feels a child moving in the womb. You cannot see the child yet, but you know something is there.

That moment of inner struggle is not unique to Nicodemus. It reaches all the way back to the story of Abraham. Abraham is considered the father of Israel, the beginning of a great lineage: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But before any nation existed, there was simply a man trying to trust God. One night Abraham looked up at the stars and wondered if he had made the right decision. God had called him to leave everything familiar, his home, his family, his security, and travel into the wilderness. He was an old man, already in his nineties. His wife Sarah was also advanced in years. From a human perspective, their future looked barren. It would not have been unreasonable for Abraham to wonder if God had simply called him out into the desert to die. But God made him a promise: Because of your faith, I will bless you. Faith, trust is the foundation of every relationship. You cannot trust someone unless you believe they will keep their word.

Somehow, deep in his soul, Abraham trusted the voice that called him. Out there in the wilderness, away from everything familiar, Abraham placed his faith in God. And God said to him, “I will bless those who bless you, and those who curse you I will curse.” Through Abraham, God was not merely creating a nation. He was forming a people who would listen, people who believed that God was real, that God spoke, and that God saves. But as history unfolded, something changed. The descendants of Abraham became very good at building laws and boundaries. By the time Jesus arrived, some leaders believed faith was about rules alone. That is why the apostle Paul the Apostle later wrote that the law reveals wrongdoing, but faith is what gives life. And so we arrive again at Nicodemus, standing in the darkness, wrestling with faith.

The world often prefers darkness. It hides behind power, identity, and national pride. But God did not send His Son into the world to build empires or elevate nations. God sent His Son to restore people. When God sent Jesus into the world, He made the most loving and risky decision imaginable. The world might accept Him or reject Him. Some did reject Him. The Roman authorities did not recognize Him. Many religious leaders did not recognize Him either. But others did. The disciples saw something in Him. Those who witnessed His healings and heard His teachings recognized the grace and salvation He brought. For them, being born again was not complicated. And it still isn’t.

Being born again can happen in the day or in the night. The difficult part is the time leading up to it, the moment when God plants something inside your soul and begins to bring it to life. It is like a spiritual pregnancy. God places His Spirit within us so that something new can be born into the world.
Do not underestimate the power of that spiritual womb. Jesus calls each of us to reflect His light. But sometimes people misunderstand that calling. They become so excited about faith that they start acting as if they themselves are the Savior. We are not the Savior. Our task is much simpler: to introduce others to Him and trust that they, too, will come to follow Christ. Faith also requires love. After all, the verse we know so well says, “For God so loved the world…” You could almost say, “For God so trusted the world.” God trusted humanity enough to give us a choice—to follow Him or to turn away.

The choice is still ours today. Working out your faith with Christ is the most important decision of your life. Sometimes you make that decision once. More often, you make it daily, even moment by moment. That is where new birth happens. So rely on your faith. God is present even in the wilderness, even in the places that feel barren and dark. And remember this: being born again is not hard. It can happen in the day or in the night. It happens when Jesus enters those dark places in our lives, and shines His light.

[1] The Rev. Jon Roberts
[2] John 3:1-17
[3] Roman 4:1-17