The Curse Become Cure
Original sermon given on The Second Sunday in Lent, Sunday, March 1, 2026 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
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“The Curse Become Cure”
John 3.1-17
In the name of the Living God and the Crucified Christ. Amen.
We don’t know what’s really motivated Nicodemus’ conversation with Jesus here. He’s a prominent religious leader in Jerusalem, a ruling member of the Sanhedrin with cultural, financial, political and theological power. So, perhaps he comes to Jesus at night out of fear. We’re told later in John that he became a “secret disciple” of Jesus, and indeed the English label a “Nicodemite” means precisely this — one who out of timidity hides their true convictions. Or, perhaps more charitably, Nicodemus comes at night because it was quieter, with no distractions, far from the pressing crowds. Now he can have some intense one-on-one time with Jesus to really get some answers. We can tell Nicodemus knows something is going on with this Jesus of Nazareth. At minimum, God must be with him, for Jesus performed powerful signs Nicodemus can’t ignore.
But almost immediately we discover that it’s Jesus who’s scheduled this divine appointment; and Jesus who will be doing the questioning; and Jesus who will be peering into ol’ Nic’s soul, and not the other way around.
I have to say, taking a step back for a moment, I’m rather sympathetic to Nick’s questions. They’re not bad questions — rude, impious, or attempts at entrapment, like we get from the other Pharisees. You get the sense that he’s sincere but also keeping Jesus at a safe distance. What we witness here in John 3 is Jesus drawing Nicodemus beyond mere inquiry, beyond being a safe spectator, into something much more transformational… and dangerous — the total life-changing upheaval of Christian discipleship.
Jesus does this by use of four metaphors — all of which have power to draw us, transform us too: that of being birthed from above all over again; of the unseen wind blowing where it wills, effecting what it wills; the familiar Old Testament image of the serpent lifted up in the wilderness (Numbers 21:8-9); and that of a Father sending a son. My hope is that each of these, like they do with Nicodemus, will draw us also into a deeper, more transformational following of Jesus.
Birthed Again, Birthed from Above
It’s hard to imagine anything more transformational than going back into the womb and coming out again. It’s almost a ridiculous image. But Jesus explains that the Kingdom of God (the rule and reign of Jesus for us, in us, and through us) is not a cultural or intellectual curiosity, but rather a change so dramatic that it can only be described as rebirth. Take it from the top, the musicians say. Start all over again. Jesus is saying that without him, you can be living life but really be dead inside. You can be walking around in this Shadow Land (to use a C.S. Lewis phrase), but not have real substance or purpose or direction.
Following him, being rebirthed by him, is not like that cold morning by the poolside where you dip your big toe in the water, causing the slightest little ripple. No, it’s like a full cannon ball plunge into the deep end, with waves splashing over the side of the pool. If it were anything else, Jesus wouldn’t have said be reborn, re-wombed into a new self. He would have said, “Okay Nic, just tweak a few things here and there about your life, and we’re good. Make a few minor adjustments to your outward appearance, and you’ll be fine.” No, he said, “Become a new creature all together. Die to self and be reborn in me.”
The Wind of the Spirit
The second image Jesus uses to draw Nicodemus is a natural analogy of the wind. There’s a mystery to the Spirit’s work. “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So, it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). Jesus is saying, “You can’t peer into the mechanics of conversion and discipleship and fully explain or understand it.” You don’t know precisely how it happens, but the results are unquestionable. We can’t see the Spirit, but we see what he does — people believing the gospel and living lives according to it. Jesus here leads Nicodemus beyond the sights and sounds of this world, to perceive a deeper reality at work in him. Even right here, at that font, we see water and the Spirit at work in a mysterious way.
The Curse become Cure
The Third image Jesus uses requires some biblical context. Numbers 21 records that vivid, but almost disturbing Old Testament story, where the Children of Israel are in their wilderness wanderings, but begin to grumble, complain, lose faith, and curse God. After all He had done, and all He had promised, and the countless ways Yahweh had been good on his word, it wasn’t enough for them. So, God sent venomous snakes among them, and many were bitten and died. When they repented and turned back to God, he gave them through Moses the most curious remedy: make a bronze snake, and put it up on a pole, and when any bitten gaze upon that sight, they will live. So, the curse became the cure. The very symbol of their rebellion and apostasy becomes the catalyst for their healing.
Jesus applies this story to himself, in order to draw Nicodemus, the “teacher of Israel”, into a full understanding of his work. Just as the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness, so will Christ be lifted up upon the cross. It is as if he’s saying, “You will look at the full reality, the full consequences of sin in the world — of doubt, rebellion, injustice, hatred, cursing of God — but you will also be enabled to see beyond it, through it, that God himself would forgive and heal. The cross of Jesus will become the full, honest reality of sin and its consequences, while also the full revelation of God’s saving, healing love. The curse become cure. To believe is to gaze fully upon the one lifted up, to see the full reality of sin and rebellion, and yet to know that God has not abandoned us in it.
The Father Gives
The final image Jesus uses to draw Nicodemus, is perhaps the most personal and powerful. It is the image of great love and gift, that of a Father sending a son. Here we have one of the most well-known passages in all of scripture, sometimes described as “the gospel in a nutshell.” It is inseparable from the serpent lifted up in the wilderness, for in it we see God himself personally at work in saving and restoring his people; and Jesus the son, obedient to his father’s will, become accursed for us. He who knew no sin became sin for us. By his wounds we are healed.
The image of a father giving, and the son going takes us beyond the bronze snake in a bronze age wilderness. A son is more precious than a bronze serpent; the son goes willingly, lovingly; the son is given for the whole world, and not just Israelites in the wilderness; and son’s cure is not just for life, but eternal life.
The end of the story for Nicodemus: we know he does become a follower of Jesus, and not just a “Nicodemite”. He advocates for fair treatment of Jesus at his trial; and after Jesus’ death, Nicodemus gives 70 pounds of spices to anoint his Lord’s body — an enormous, expensive, extravagant gift fit for the greatest king.
But the reason Nicodemus story is here is for us… that we too might be drawn into a living, loving, transformational relationship with Jesus; and to once again in this season of Lent, to gaze upon the cross, the curse become our cure.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
