I have to preach on John 3:1-8 in a few weeks, so Nicodemus is on my mind at the moment ..
In the night we know our blindness
Yet we have no light.
Moth-like we seek the little light that fits our comfort
And demand we do not burn:
A well-established theology should reinforce our bunkers.
All he wants is reassurance.
All he gets is God.
Can he build an institution to control the wind?
This life has its modicum of comfort,
Its easy ways, its power and prestige
Why make things messy with talk of something more?
To fit back inside the womb you must give up all your growing
Surrender acquisitions, be utterly alone,
You must learn the way to go backwards,
To undo all your becoming,
And you cannot choose your name:
The old identity stripped away
In the rush of blood that heralds life.
And the teachers of Israel do not know this.
They have not become small in God.
Even earthly things are shut
They have never seen the way of the wind
They have no clue that it blows a new direction.
Above all else the temple must be tidy
The teaching orthodox,
The income stream reliable:
And God must do exactly what He always did.
Except He never did.