Windblown!
John 3:1-17[1]
We live in a place where the wind blows. It always has.
Maybe in former days, before trees were planted more widely, it “blew” even
more. Or at least it may have seemed like it. So much so that there are stories
of early pioneers who were driven to madness by the constant blowing of the
wind on the open prairie. These days, the wind can still be dangerous. Most of
us remember the historic “derecho” storm that destroyed an almost 800-mile
swath of crops in Iowa in 2020. More recently, and more locally, on a weekend
when the weather was supposed to be calm, a storm brought down a lot of trees,
some of them fairly large. We live in a place where the wind blows!
Like other aspects of the weather, we really can’t know the
way the wind is going to blow on a given day until we see it. I learned that living
on the Texas Gulf Coast, where we dealt with Hurricanes. The weather service had
a five-day “cone of probability” for where the Hurricane would make landfall
that was just about worthless because usually covered the whole Gulf Coast from
Texas to Florida. Basically about 24 to 48 hours ahead of time we could get an
idea of where the storm was going. That’s true here. Maybe the day before, we can
see what seems to be happening. But really, we have to wait until the day to
know what the weather is going to do. Is it going to snow this afternoon? We’ll
have to wait and see.
Unfortunately, that unpredictability that exposes our trees
and crops, not to mention our homes and gardens, to the risk of damage from a
storm. That’s not something most of us relish. Unlike the people who originally
settled here, we tend not to be great risk-takers. We want our lives to be safe
and predictable. And we turn to our faith to provide us with that safe and
predictable life. We want our faith to be something we can count on. So we take
faith and turn it into a kind of certainty that I’m not sure it was ever meant
to be.
At least that’s been the way some people approach faith.
It’s “the Truth,” the one and only truth with a capital “T” that has been
delivered “once for all” to the faithful (Cf. Jude 3!) and has been preserved
intact throughout the centuries in an infallible Bible by an infallible church.
Before we point the finger at other Christian traditions for this kind of
thinking, we should look to our own roots. The Reformed confessions from the
Sixteenth Century speak a similar language. It seems that the uncertainty and upheaval
of the Protestant Reformation when people wanted certainty about their faith.
They debated whether the Catholic tradition or the Protestant tradition had the
“true” faith. They attacked each other back and forth about who had the true
faith or who didn’t. One our Reformed confessions talks of faith as “a most
certain apprehension of the truth of God.”[2] That doesn’t leave much room for doubt. And the Westminster Confession, which
was the confession of faith of the Presbyterian Church for a long time,
hardly even speaks the language of faith. It makes our faith all about
knowledge and absolute truth and certainty.
It’s easy to understand why we look for this kind of
certainty in our faith. It’s comforting
and reassuring to have something firm and unchangeable to hang onto with all
that’s changing in our world. But I’m not sure that our faith was meant to be
like that. I would say that the Bible speaks very differently about faith. Yes,
there are times when the prophets and apostles spoke of faith as something firm
that provides us with a sense of being grounded. But they also speak of faith
as something we can’t always pin down into nice, neat packages.
Our gospel lesson for today is a great example. Jesus
speaks about faith in a way that was so confusing to Nicodemus, who was one of
the “teachers of Israel,” that he completely misunderstood. Jesus said, “you
must be born from above,” but the way he said it could also be understood, “you
must be born again.” And Nicodemus thought Jesus was talking about somehow
physically climbing back into the womb. But Jesus was talking about a different
kind of birth. In John’s Gospel it’s called being “born from God,” or “born
from above,” or “born of the Spirit.” It’s talking about a birth that brings us
a whole new kind of life from the Spirit of God.
That’s something that may be hard for us to grasp, because
this life can so often feel “old” and familiar rather than new and unexpected.
But that’s the way Jesus described the “life” he came to give all people. And
Jesus said this new life works the way the wind blows. He said, “The
wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not
know where it comes from or where it goes” (John 3:8). Now, Jesus wasn’t
speaking about weather forecasting. Even with all the modern technology we have
at our fingertips, sometimes a wind comes up suddenly, and you’re just as
surprised and baffled as if you were living in the First Century. The new life
that Jesus points us to, and the faith that opens the door to that new life, is
just as much a mystery today as the wind still can be.
Because it is beyond our ability to understand, there is
something inherently uncertain about what God is doing in our world to bring
new life to us all. Like a sudden wind that takes us by surprise, the new life
that God brings to us is something that can surprise us. Sometimes it can leave
us feeling overwhelmed or even scared. When God’s Spirit blows into our lives,
it’s not something we get to control. When we feel “out of control” we may find
ourselves feeling vulnerable or even threatened. In those times, to be sure,
our faith is like a lifeline that we hold onto. And there is much about our
faith provides us with assurance, like the promise that God’s love for us never
fails. But because our faith sometimes takes us to places we never expected to
go, we may find ourselves in a situation where all we can do is fall on our
knees and pray with all our hearts, “Lord, help me!”
If it’s true that God’s ways are as much higher than ours
as “the heavens” are above the earth, then I think that means we will likely
wonder, or question, or even doubt at times. I don’t think any of those
responses to the unexpected nature of our lives is the opposite of faith.
Rather, I would say that for me, those paths have led me to deeper faith! It’s
natural for us to turn to our faith when life feels out of control. We all have
favorite hymns, or Scripture verses, or prayers that give us the courage to
face uncertain days. But we must not confuse assurance with absolute certainty.
One of the main reasons for that is when our faith is something we view as absolutely
certain, it becomes safe and predictable. And when our faith is safe and
predictable, we can become complacent. I don’t think Jesus envisioned the new
life he spoke about with Nicodemus on that night as something safe or predictable,
or something about which we could ever become complacent!
Rather, our faith, and the new life it leads us to live, is
always going to lead us out from the comfort of our safety and complacency.
Jesus’ faith led him to the cross, and he said that it would be the same for
all those who would follow him. If we’re going to take that risk of faith, if
we’re going to let the wind of God’s Spirit blow new life into our lives, we’re
going to have to expect that it’s not going to be safe and predictable. And
rather than seeking safety or comfort, faith means opening up our hearts to the
new life God brings by allowing ourselves to be changed. That’s how we
experience faith, and that’s how we experience the new life Jesus promised to
us all. It’s like being blown by the wind!
[1] © Alan Brehm 2026. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/1/2026 for
Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.
[2] “Second Helvetic Confession,” The Book of
Confessions 5.112.
