Not Good Enough

In the Life of Christ

If I had met Nicodemus before reading John 3, I suspect I would have been impressed. Most of us would have been. He was disciplined, educated, respected, morally serious, biblically knowledgeable, and influential. John introduces him simply: “Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council” (John 3:1). Yet those few words describe a man who had spent much of his life doing almost everything religious people are supposed to do.

Nicodemus belonged to the Pharisees, a relatively small but influential movement committed to rigorous obedience to God’s law. The study behind today’s reflection notes that Jewish tradition identified 613 commands in the Torah—248 positive commands and 365 prohibitions—and that the Pharisees developed additional regulations intended to keep people safely away from violating those commands. Their concern could become painfully detailed: what constituted work on the Sabbath, what counted as carrying a burden, even what kinds of knots could appropriately be tied. Their intention, at least at its best, was not to rebel against God but to make absolutely certain they obeyed Him.

Nicodemus was therefore not the stereotypical hypocrite we sometimes imagine whenever we hear the word “Pharisee.” Bible.org rightly notes that the Pharisees were often sincere and committed to keeping God’s law, even though religious performance could never accomplish the inward transformation God desired.

That makes what happens next much more important.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night and says respectfully, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God.” He has watched Jesus carefully enough to know that something extraordinary is happening. He recognizes that the signs Jesus performs cannot simply be dismissed. One Bible.org commentator observes that Nicodemus seems unable to “overlook the weight of the evidence.”

I like that about him.

He does not yet understand Jesus, but he is willing to come and ask.

And Jesus does something fascinating. He does not congratulate Nicodemus on his theological education. He does not praise his moral record. He does not discuss his position on the Sanhedrin or acknowledge his influence among Israel’s religious leadership.

Jesus goes immediately to the one thing Nicodemus still lacks.

“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again” (John 3:3).

That must have been startling.

Here was a man who had spent his entire life becoming religiously accomplished, and Jesus essentially told him that what he needed was not another achievement.

He needed a new beginning.

Nicodemus had accumulated credentials, but Jesus was talking about transformation.

The Greek expression Jesus uses is especially insightful. The word anōthen can mean “again,” but it can also mean “from above.” John seems intentionally to allow both meanings to resonate. Nicodemus hears “born again” and immediately thinks in terms of another physical birth. Jesus is speaking about life that originates “from above”—life produced by the Spirit of God.

That distinction reaches directly into our own discipleship.

There are things religion can teach us to do. We can learn Scripture. We can attend worship. We can become disciplined in prayer. We can serve, give, teach, preach, sing, and develop admirable moral habits. Those things matter greatly, but none of them can manufacture spiritual life.

Alfred Plummer’s observation, echoed in later commentary, captures the issue well: what Jesus tells Nicodemus is essentially that it is not more learning that he needs, but life.

That is one of the most important distinctions Jesus ever makes.

Christianity is not merely becoming a better version of the person we already are. Christ did not come simply to polish our behavior. He came to give us life.

Nicodemus is particularly fascinating because Jesus later calls him “Israel’s teacher” (John 3:10). The Greek construction gives unusual emphasis to his stature as a teacher. This was not a biblical novice. Nicodemus knew the Scriptures. He would have known passages such as Ezekiel 36:26–27, where God promised, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” He knew Jeremiah’s promise of a new covenant in which God’s law would be written upon the heart.

He knew the words.

Jesus wanted him to experience their reality.

There is a warning there for those of us who have followed Christ for many years. Familiarity with Scripture can sometimes fool us into assuming familiarity with God. We know the vocabulary. We know when to stand and when to sit. We know the songs, doctrines, prayers, and stories.

Yet Jesus keeps bringing us back to the heart.

Knowing the Bible is indispensable, but knowing biblical information is not identical to being transformed by the God who gave us the Bible.

And notice how Jesus treats Nicodemus. He does not humiliate him.

That matters to me.

Jesus knows that this respected teacher does not yet understand one of the most fundamental realities of God’s kingdom, yet He engages him patiently. He answers his questions. He challenges his assumptions. He draws him deeper. The encounter reminds us that Jesus does not despise sincere questions simply because they reveal incomplete understanding.

In fact, Nicodemus’s story continues.

In John 7:50–51, he cautiously speaks in Jesus’ defense before his fellow leaders. Then, after the crucifixion, John tells us that Nicodemus joins Joseph of Arimathea in caring for Jesus’ body, bringing an extraordinary quantity of spices for His burial (John 19:39).

The man who first approached Jesus under the cover of darkness eventually steps into the light of public identification with Him.

John does not tell us everything that occurred inside Nicodemus between those moments. Perhaps that silence is intentional. Spiritual transformation often happens like the wind Jesus describes in John 3:8. We cannot always identify the precise moment when God begins moving someone’s heart, but eventually we see the evidence.

That gives me hope for people whose faith appears unfinished.

Perhaps it gives you hope for yourself.

Nicodemus reminds us that respectable people need Jesus. Religious people need Jesus. Bible teachers need Jesus. Morally disciplined people need Jesus. People who have spent decades around the things of God still need the transforming life of God.

Bible.org makes an especially helpful comparison between Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman of John 4. He was male, Jewish, respected, educated, influential, and morally upright. She was Samaritan, socially marginalized, and carrying a complicated personal history.

Yet Jesus meets both of them.

And both need what only He can give.

That is the gospel.

The kingdom does not belong to those with the most impressive résumé. It belongs to those who receive life from above.

So when I walk beside Nicodemus into that nighttime conversation, I find myself asking a different question than I might once have asked. I am no longer wondering whether my religious credentials are impressive enough.

I am asking whether Christ is still transforming me.

Am I merely accumulating biblical knowledge, or is Scripture changing how I love?

Am I simply becoming more familiar with Christian practices, or is the Spirit making me more like Jesus?

Am I depending upon what I have done for God, or am I still depending upon what God has done for me through Christ?

Nicodemus came to Jesus believing he was meeting an unusually gifted teacher.

He discovered Someone who could give him an entirely new life.

Sometimes the greatest obstacle to receiving what Jesus wants to give us is believing that what we have already achieved is enough.

The invitation of John 3 therefore remains wonderfully simple. Come to Jesus. Bring your questions. Bring your knowledge. Bring your accomplishments. Bring your failures. Bring everything you think qualifies you and everything you fear disqualifies you.

Then listen when Jesus says that life must come from above.

Because the Christian life does not finally begin with what we accomplish for God.

It begins with what God does within us.

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