Nicodemus: From Darkness to Light

I want us to turn our attention to John's Gospel, chapter 3, verses 1 and 2, and to study a character from this Gospel. “Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus, who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.’” If I asked any of you to say something about Nicodemus, all of you would have some idea of this man. He is a fascinating character, and he appears only in the Gospel of John. You will not read about him in Matthew, Mark, or Luke — only in one Gospel. And there he appears three times: first in chapter 3, beginning at verse 1; again in chapter 7, from verse 45 onwards; and towards the end of the Gospel in chapter 19, from verse 39.

That itself is significant. John, who is writing this Gospel, brings one character in at the beginning, again at the center of the narrative, and once more at the end. He wants to teach us something. Through Nicodemus, the Gospel of John poses a big question before us today: what does it cost to be a disciple of Jesus? As someone has said, a discipleship that does not cost us anything is worth nothing. Are we disciples of Jesus? All of us would say yes — otherwise we would not be here. “I have taken baptism. I remember the day I lifted up my hands and had the new-birth experience. I am a practicing follower of Christ.” That is what all of us would say. But will you allow this man Nicodemus, who appears three times, to teach us something today?

This Gospel is known for individual conversations. In chapter 5 there is a man, an invalid for thirty-eight years, and Jesus has a conversation with that one person. In chapter 4 there is the Samaritan woman — again an extended, one-on-one conversation. Jesus has time for one person. In chapter 9 there is the man born blind, and again a one-on-one conversation. That is a feature of this Gospel. But what excites me is that all of those characters — the invalid, the Samaritan woman, the man born blind — are without names. They are anonymous. Yet this man in chapter 3 is given a name: Nicodemus. He is special to John.

Every time he appears, John reminds us who he is. The first time is in chapter 3. But when he appears again in chapter 7, John writes of him as the one who had gone to Jesus before. And the last time, in chapter 19 verse 39, John does not simply introduce a man named Nicodemus; he adds that this was the one who had earlier come to Jesus by night. So Nicodemus appears in chapters 3, 7, and 19, but the writer will not let us deal with him separately. There is a progression here. Discipleship is happening with this person, and we are meant to keep our eyes on him across the whole Gospel.

Who exactly is this man? Scholars who study the Scriptures systematically struggle with him. Some have concluded that Nicodemus is not a model disciple — that he is ignorant, or merely a secret believer, not someone for us to imitate. Some say he is ambiguous: he comes three times, but we really cannot tell whether he is a disciple of Jesus or not. Others, however, see a clear sense of progression. A disciple of Jesus is meant to grow in understanding, and as his understanding grows, his life is challenged, his decisions change, and he is radically reoriented. Some say: look at him closely, and you will see the very discipleship we so easily miss in the twenty-first century, where discipleship for many of us is just Sunday attendance. My intention this morning is to set this man before you and to show how he develops. When I studied this, it came to me as a challenge — the same challenge it had been to me about five years ago.

Look carefully at the text. Chapter 3 verse 1: “Now there was a Pharisee.” He does not appear out of nowhere. He has a name, and he is a Pharisee. There were around five thousand Pharisees in Jesus' day, in the first century, and they were not ordinary people. If a Pharisee walked into a first-century synagogue, everyone would give a standing ovation — here comes the one who knows the Scriptures, who prays three times a day, who fasts twice a week, the very epitome of spirituality. A Pharisee was one of the “separated” ones. And it is not only that. The text adds that Nicodemus “was a member of the Jewish ruling council” — the Sanhedrin, around seventy-one members, the cream of the nation, like the Jewish supreme court. So he is no ordinary person. He knows the word, he is a teacher, and he is part of the ruling body that calls people to account.

And there is still more. In chapter 3 verse 10, Jesus says to him, “You are Israel's teacher.” There is a definite article there — not merely a teacher, but the teacher. If there were a Bible college in Jerusalem, Nicodemus might well have been its principal. A Pharisee, a member of the ruling council, the teacher of Israel. Historians have noted something more about him. Many have tried to connect Nicodemus with a man mentioned in the Talmud, Nakdimon ben Gurion — most probably one of the three wealthiest men in Jerusalem. A Pharisee, a member of the Sanhedrin, the teacher of Israel, and a very rich man. Why would a man like this come to Jesus?

I love the way one writer has put it. Only the cold, heavy-lidded eye of the moon sees you making your way through the darkened streets. The records show you are a man of light, Nicodemus, a learned man steeped in the discipline of scholarship. Yet here you are, in the night, driven by your curiosity, pulled by an insatiable desire to figure out just who this man Jesus is. Only the moon sees him in the darkened street, walking, going to Jesus. That is why he has been called curious Nicodemus. He is not content; he is curious.

What is behind that curiosity? Most probably the verses immediately before. Look at chapter 2 verses 23 and 24: while Jesus was in Jerusalem at the Passover festival, many people saw the signs he was performing and believed in his name, but Jesus would not entrust himself to them. People were excited because of the miracles, and Jesus saw through them. And the very next verse is 3:1, “Now there was a Pharisee.” The word “sign” appears again in verse 2: no one could perform the signs you are doing. Do you see the connection? Most probably Nicodemus, the teacher, the influential and wealthy man, has seen Jesus doing signs and comes to him by night, as if to say, “I am the teacher, but I have never done this. Rabbi, I am observing you. No one can do this unless God is with him.” Perhaps he comes to appreciate, to learn, even to know the trick of the trade.

Look at him carefully — curious Nicodemus came. That language of “coming” is very important in John's Gospel. All of us came today; that is no small thing. “To come” is an active verb. In chapter 1 verse 39, the first disciple, Andrew, comes to Jesus. In chapter 1 verse 47, Philip and Nathanael come to Jesus. So the question for Nicodemus is: you are curious, you are going to Jesus — like whom? Like Andrew? Like Philip? Will you also become a disciple? Coming indicates movement, a movement of faith. I am so glad all of you took the time to be here today. You were active; in the morning you planned your day and deliberately chose, “I want to go to church.” Discipleship starts there. Nicodemus made that choice; he came to Jesus.

And what does he call Jesus? Rabbi. We sometimes pick at this and say, “He only calls him Rabbi; he has no real revelation.” But look at the first disciples in chapter 1 verse 38 — they too called him Rabbi. Andrew said Rabbi. So calling Jesus Rabbi does not mean Nicodemus understood nothing. He has seen the signs; he is coming to Jesus in the night. And consider this: in chapter 1, John the Baptist twice said, “I myself did not know him” (verses 31 and 33). But what does Nicodemus say in chapter 3 verse 2? “Rabbi, we know.” John the Baptist said “I did not know” twice; Nicodemus says “we know,” speaking like a spokesman for a whole group.

On the strength of chapter 3 verses 1 and 2, we would gladly give Nicodemus a front seat, even a responsibility in the church. He is high-profile, he came to Jesus, and he is not ignorant: “We know that you are a teacher who has come from God.” Compare the other disciples in chapter 1: Andrew said, “We have found the Messiah,” and Philip said, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law.” In many ways Nicodemus' confession is equal to, or more than, theirs. He gives a thumbs up: “You are from God.” All of that is good. But so far he is only coming.

An important clue to unlock this man is the time he came. He came to Jesus at night. And in chapter 19, John again reminds us that this is the man who first came to Jesus by night. Why night? You can explain it away by saying Jesus was busy during the day. Some have even tried to turn it into praise, since rabbinic tradition honored those willing to study Torah by night. But in John's Gospel night means something more. Look at the same chapter, verses 19 and following: this is the verdict — light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil; everyone who does evil hates the light and will not come into the light. Darkness and light run all through this chapter as a deliberate contrast. Picture it: a learned man going to Jesus, the Light, in the night. There is real ambiguity in that.

To make it clearer, look at chapter 13 verse 30. As soon as Judas had taken the bread, “he went out. And it was night.” That is not merely physical darkness; Judas was walking away from the Light of the world. He had been with Jesus, and he went out into the dark. Night, in John, represents more than the physical realm; it represents a condition of understanding. Chapter 9 verse 4: “as long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming.” That is not literal night. Chapter 11 verse 10: when a person walks at night, they stumble. Nicodemus came to Jesus — good — but he came in the night, and that reveals the condition of his heart. How do we know his heart? Look at how Jesus answers him.

Jesus, in effect, sets aside the compliment: “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.” Imagine the shock on Nicodemus' face. This high-profile man says, “You have come from God,” and Jesus' first response is, “You will not even see the kingdom of God unless you are born again.” Then again in verse 5: “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit.” Note two words — “see” in verse 3 and “enter” in verse 5. What is Jesus telling him? You are not yet there. With all your profile, your knowledge of Scripture, your teaching, your wealth, you have come to me, but you have not entered. You are still outside. I do not know where your journey falls today, but are we prepared to hear something like this from Jesus — that for me it may be just Sunday, just admiration of Jesus — and to let him say, “You are not yet there; you must be born again”?

And what is Nicodemus' response? Look at verse 4: “How can someone be born when they are old? Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother's womb to be born!” His reply is naive, almost childlike. He came knowing certain things — yes, all of us will say, “Jesus is God; on such-and-such a day I confessed Jesus is Lord” — but do you know the second step? Are you progressing? When Jesus tells him, “You came, but you are still outside; you must be born again,” his ignorance comes out. “I am an old man. How will I enter my mother's womb and be born again?” Jesus is calling him to a divine perspective, to be born from above — a divine worldview, a divine sense of judgment. That is what you should have, Nicodemus.

Look again at verse 5: “born of water and the Spirit.” And in verse 8 there is a third word — the wind: “the wind blows wherever it pleases.” Water, Spirit, and wind. Jesus expects Nicodemus to recognize this language, which is why, when Nicodemus is baffled, Jesus says in verse 10, “You are Israel's teacher, and do you not understand these things?” Where does this language come from? Water and Spirit appear together in Ezekiel chapter 36, from verse 25: “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” There God challenges Israel: your religiosity, your Sunday attendance without relationship, must go; the Spirit has to work, and the water must cleanse. Water here stands for the word of God, for in Ephesians chapter 5 verse 26 we are cleansed by the washing with water through the word.

And what follows Ezekiel 36? Ezekiel 37, the valley of dry bones. Who is Nicodemus? A high-profile man, a teacher, a rich man who knows many things about God — yet before Jesus he is like that pile of dry bones. The wind has to blow on him, the Spirit has to touch him, the water has to cleanse him. He represents Israel coming to the true Israel, the Light, Jesus; he says many right things, yet he is clueless, with no understanding of Ezekiel 36 or 37. Let me ask all of you: do we have that experience of inner transformation, where we have let the word of God cleanse us? Do you have a habit of daily meditation, morning or evening, letting the word cleanse your heart and the Spirit form you and radically reorient you? Or are the days just going by — no word, no prayer, no meditation, just living? I am not condemning anyone; I am only warning that this is the very danger that befell Nicodemus. Everything was going his way, yet Jesus said, “You are the dry bone. You need wind. You need Spirit. You need that cleansing inside of you.”

How does Nicodemus leave the scene? What is his last word in chapter 3? Verse 9: “How can this be?” After that we hear nothing more of him in the chapter — whether he responded positively, whether he left. We are not told. But there is only one other person in the Gospels who asks that same question. Any clue? Luke chapter 1 verse 34 — Mary. When the announcement came that she would conceive, Mary asked, “How can this be?” The very same words. This religious, high-profile man is like a child. When children ask their endless chorus of “why, why, why,” we adults find it annoying. I have a little one, just six months, and the questions are already coming. Nicodemus is like that — an old man, yet like a curious child, coming to Jesus with “why, why, how?” — and then he disappears, asking, “How can this be?” But here is the hope: this is like Mary. After Mary asked, “How can this be?” there came the incarnation. Will there be a birth inside Nicodemus too?

The next time we see him is in chapter 7. Turn there. In chapter 3 he was coming to Jesus in the night, and we lost him halfway through the conversation; after verse 9 we hear no more. But chapter 7 is a very interesting chapter. Verses 12 and 13 set the backdrop: the people are muttering about Jesus. Some say, “He is a good man”; others say, “No, he deceives the people.” The crowd is divided. Jesus is doing many signs and saying many things; some say he must be the anointed one, others that he is a deceiver, others that they know him — he is only from Nazareth. Opinions are split.

Now look at chapter 7 verse 48: the Sanhedrin asks, “Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed in him?” What answer is expected? No. Who are the ones excited about Jesus? Verse 49 dismisses them — this rabble that knows nothing of the law. The ones running after Jesus are unschooled, a handful of fishermen and tax collectors, while the high-profile people ask, “Has anyone of standing believed in him?” — expecting the answer, no. So after chapter 3, did Nicodemus progress in his understanding? At least not publicly; no one knew. That night only the eye of the moon saw him slip through the dark streets, talk with Jesus, and go home. The next day he is back in the Sanhedrin, sitting comfortably as they ask their bold question: has even one of our seventy-one believed in Jesus? No.

But Nicodemus cannot keep quiet — and this is discipleship. Look at verse 50: “Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus earlier and who was one of their own number, asked, ‘Does our law condemn a man without first hearing him to find out what he has been doing?’” He is challenging all his fellow members of the Sanhedrin: are we doing right by Jesus? He is defending him. Curious Nicodemus, who came to Jesus, is now courageous Nicodemus, defending Jesus. Do we have the habit of defending Jesus — in schools and universities, where Jesus is dismissed as a liar or a lunatic, standing up and saying, “No! He is God; he has transformed my life”? For the first time there is real progression; from the night he is slowly coming into the light.

But again he does not yet grow up fully, because the others immediately turn on him. This is what happens to us, too, when we find the courage to speak for Jesus. In verse 52 the Sanhedrin replies to this old, rich Pharisee, “Are you from Galilee too? Look into it, and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee.” Why are you speaking for this man? None of us has believed in him; he is the son of a carpenter; can anything good come from Nazareth? And what is the next verse? Verse 53 — and there again Nicodemus is missing. He fades away. Like me, like us. Sometimes we make glorious declarations in church — “through you I can do all things” — but at home, on our campuses, in our workplaces, we keep a low profile and say nothing. Curious Nicodemus had grown into courageous Nicodemus, but the ambiguity remains, and he fades from view.

Thankfully he reappears in chapter 19. Turn there. From verse 38 onwards the setting is the burial of Jesus — and now it is not night but day. There is light, because everything must be finished before the Sabbath begins at six in the evening. The first time Nicodemus met Jesus it was darkness; now there is light. Together with Joseph of Arimathea he asks Pilate for the body of Jesus. This is an amazingly brave act. Who would want the body of a crucified man? They risked everything. Standing with the Jewish elders, they risked expulsion from the Sanhedrin. If you warned Nicodemus, “Don't go to that burial; you will be thrown out of the ruling council,” he would, I imagine, simply smile. He knows now what that council can offer, and he knows who Jesus is.

And what is he doing? Handling the dead body of Jesus. By touching a so-called condemned criminal's corpse, he and Joseph incurred ritual defilement. Passover was upon them, and by Levitical law anyone who touches a dead body becomes unclean and cannot keep the Passover. What are these men doing? They are saying, in effect, “I am becoming unclean by touching the dead body of Jesus, but now I can experience the true Passover. I am crossing over from death to life, from fear to boldness. This is my Passover.” Have you celebrated the true Passover with Jesus, or is it all ritual — I give my tithe, I say my prayers — and nothing more? The irony is striking: in the previous chapter the Jewish leaders would not enter Pilate's palace, a Gentile's house, for fear of ceremonial uncleanness that would bar them from the Passover. They guarded their ritual purity — yet here is Nicodemus, that old, rich man, holding the body of Christ and keeping the real Passover.

Notice the verbs again. “Coming” is no ordinary word in this Gospel. Verse 38: Joseph came — a bold step, a movement of faith. Verse 39: Nicodemus, who had earlier come to Jesus, came again, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes. He is active now, an active disciple. And in verse 40 there is an interesting word: the NIV says they were “taking” Jesus' body, but the literal sense is “receiving” Jesus' body. What does John 1:11–12 say? “To all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” Nicodemus is receiving. Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary,” and now, with a dead body in his arms, Nicodemus comes to the fountain and receives the body of Jesus — coming in courage, receiving in faith. There is a clear movement here from darkness to light.

Consider the burial custom. The Romans would simply leave a criminal's body on the cross for the birds, or let it rot; that was the rule for the crucified. Occasionally an exception was granted when someone appealed to the authorities. This is such an exception — for a man perceived as a criminal, hung between two others. They ask for the body before sunset; they do not want the birds to consume it. And what does Nicodemus bring? According to chapter 19 verse 39, a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about seventy-five pounds — roughly thirty-two and a half kilograms. In all the Bible, this kind of lavish, extravagant embalming is reserved for kings. You see it at the burial of King Asa in 2 Chronicles chapter 16 verse 14. This is no ordinary act: thirty-two and a half kilograms of myrrh and aloes.

There is something more in this mixture of myrrh and aloes. The two appear together in only three other passages: Psalm 45 verse 8, the Song of Songs chapter 4 verse 14, and Proverbs chapter 7 verse 17. And in all three the context is the same — living people, not the dead — and the theme in each is affection, love. What is Nicodemus doing? In chapter 3 he was in the night, only able to ask, “How can this be?” and Jesus told him the wind blows where it wishes. Now, in chapter 19, the wind has blown. There is Jesus inside of him. He makes that body his own, spending lavishly, opening his treasures, truly worshiping his King. For Nicodemus, Jesus is now King.

Remember the whole plan of the Jewish leaders: they wanted Jesus crucified because he claimed to be King. In chapter 19 verse 15 the chief priests told Pilate, “We have no king but Caesar.” Yet Joseph and Nicodemus sit with the body of Jesus, treating him as the King — the King who deserves their full allegiance and undivided devotion. My dear people of God, is Jesus King to you? If he is, then we cannot withhold anything from him. He will claim our full attention, our allegiance, our treasures, all our affections.

Let me close with one last observation about this man, from Christian tradition. What will we get if we follow Jesus? Multitudes ask that question. “I am willing to come to Jesus, willing to receive him — what will I get?” And there are preachers who say, “Come to Jesus and you will have everything you want; ask and you will receive it.” So what did Nicodemus get? Christian tradition says Nicodemus was baptized by Peter and John, that he suffered persecution from hostile Jewish people, that he lost his membership in the Sanhedrin and was forced to leave Jerusalem because of his Christian faith. One tradition says that this man, once counted among the three richest in Jerusalem, became poor — driven from the city, and his daughter was later seen gathering barley grains from under the horses' feet. He became poor. We usually speak only of Jesus becoming poor. But the call of discipleship is that we give up our rights and privileges, embracing the cross, a cruciform life. That is the call of Christ.

So what is discipleship for you? Is it only chapter 3 — coming to Jesus, praising him? Or have we grown from curious Nicodemus into courageous Nicodemus, and on into committed Nicodemus, who is willing to let go — laying his ambitions and his standing at Jesus' feet? How I wish someone would paint that picture of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus sitting with the dead body of Jesus: out of the Sanhedrin, out of the ruling council, out of Jerusalem, and all they get is Jesus. Jesus becomes their own. I want to give you a few moments to respond to this message — to pledge your allegiance to Jesus afresh today. Discipleship is a costly affair. It is about progressing from curiosity to courage to commitment, about being bold witnesses of Jesus, about making him our own. If you are on this way, praise God. And if you are not, if you are wondering what is going on, may God Almighty reveal this truth to you: that discipleship is following him and becoming like him, making Jesus our own by laying our treasures at his feet.