We all know that Jesus is the central figure in all of Scripture. In fact, he is the central figure in all of human history. We’ve already seen this in John 1. John the Apostle has made it clear that the Son of God is eternal. He never began to be but has always been and always will be. He is God. He is the Creator of all things. He is the source of understanding and intelligence. The only reason we know anything at all is because of the enlightening work of the Son of God, whom John calls the “Word” (John 1:1). He is the reason we have been born again and adopted into the family of God. And at a point in time, centuries ago, this Word literally became flesh in the person of Jesus, without at any time ceasing to be God (John 1:14).

It comes as no surprise to me that there is a wide variety of opinion among Christians concerning the nature and frequency of miracles. Let me explain what I mean.

[The place of the Temple cleansing/judgment in John’s gospel needs to be addressed. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all place the record of Jesus cleansing the Temple at the conclusion of their gospel accounts, during the final week of Jesus’ life, only days before his crucifixion. But John describes it as occurring at the very beginning of our Lord’s public ministry, some three years earlier than what we find in the synoptic gospels. One of two explanations is given for this. Some believe that John has moved the story to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry for literary and theological purposes. It isn’t uncommon for the gospel writers to rearrange the chronology of certain events in order to make a theological point. Perhaps that is what John has done. But it is unclear what that theological point would be. Most believe, on the other hand, that Jesus entered and cleansed the Temple twice, once at the beginning of his public ministry, which is the event that John describes here in chapter two of his gospel, and a second time, some three years later, at the close of his ministry, just prior to his crucifixion. Therefore, Matthew, Mark, and Luke describe the second of the two Temple cleansings. Although we can’t be absolutely certain, I think the weight of evidence points to two cleansings, not one.]

A major corporation in America recently re-structured its management team and embraced a new mission statement. This corporation then declared: “We are born again!” Because of urban renewal efforts, city leaders declared that the south side of Chicago has been “born again”! Civic leaders in Boston said much the same thing about its west end. In fact, you hear similar claims being made about virtually every movement, political party, educational institution, and most individuals when they make some life-altering decision. There is simply no escaping the fact that the world at large has co-opted the language of being “born again” from Christians and in doing so has thoroughly corrupted the true meaning of the term.

I found myself this past week asking a question as I prepared for today: “How does one preach on a biblical text already known by virtually everyone in the world? What can one say that hasn’t already been said? How do I prevent people from mentally checking out because of their frustration at having to listen to yet one more sermon on a passage they committed to memory decades ago?” Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t have a good answer. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to skip over John 3:16 and pretend that all of you know everything that can be known about what is probably the most famous verse in all the Bible.

Most of what we find in the Bible is designed to comfort and encourage us. But there are a few texts that are deliberately designed to frighten us. By “frighten” I mean they are there to wake us up and shake us up.

In his book, Rediscovering Holiness, J. I. Packer makes the point that being a Christian is largely concerned with living our lives as Jesus lived his. Therefore, says Packer, Christians are to:

Jesus is bushed. He’s tuckered out. He’s bone-tired from his journey. He’s hot, thirsty, and hungry. It’s high noon and the disciples have nothing to eat. So while they go shopping for lunch, Jesus sits down at a well to drink. It is here that he decides to enlist yet one more person into the ranks of those who will worship the Father. But it isn’t just any person. It isn’t a recent graduate of the local theological seminary. It isn’t a respectable businessman or a housewife with three kids, a cat and a dog. He chooses to speak with a person who, in the opinion of the ancient world, has already struck out. This person is a Samaritan. Strike One! This person is a woman. Strike Two! This woman is sexually immoral. Strike Three!

Last week we spent all our time unpacking the significance of what Jesus said in John 4:23. In his conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well, he told her that God is seeking people to worship him in spirit and in truth. That’s the sort of statement that will either offend you and make you angry and cause you to turn and run away from God, or it will fill you with joy and delight and excitement as you realize that in your worship of God you find your greatest heart happiness and soul satisfaction. But I don’t won’t to preach last week’s message again, so today we turn our attention to the story as a whole.

Does the subject of divine healing ever confuse you? I’m almost embarrassed to ask that question, because everyone answers in the same way: Yes! And I’m not sure I trust those who say No. I agonize over the question of why one person is healed and another is not, why some healings are instantaneous and total while others are gradual and partial. Does it strike you as odd, as it does me, that notwithstanding a multitude of prayers a Christian suffers and dies while a non-Christian recovers and lives without the aid of so much as one prayer? Do you find it baffling, as I do, that on occasion those who sin the most suffer the least, and those who sin the least seem to suffer the most?