Unfinished Faith: Relearning God.

Week 41:

The bit where I introduce:

Have you ever heard someone describe themselves as a born-again Christian?

I certainly have.

In some parts of Christianity, especially evangelical Christianity, being born again has become almost a badge of identity.

It tells people what kind of Christian you are. Not just a Christian. A born-again Christian!

Usually that means there was a particular point in life when someone decided to follow Jesus, accepted Christ, prayed a prayer, went forward at an altar call, or experienced some kind of dramatic conversion.

And there is nothing necessarily wrong with that.

People really do have moments that change the direction of their lives. Some people can tell you the exact date they became Christians. Others cannot remember a time when they did not believe. But as I discovered I think there is something rather ironic about the phrase “born again” Christian.

Because when we go back to John 3, being born again appears to be the way Nicodemus misunderstands Jesus. Jesus seems to be saying something more like born from above. And somehow, over time, a large part of Christianity turned Nicodemus’s misunderstanding into one of its most recognisable labels.

So, I thought I’d explore this week and try not to go down the rabbit hole! Come with me…

The bit where I refer to the Bible and ask a few rhetorical questions:

John 3 is the chapter to read, particularly verse 3-8.

3 There was a man named Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader who was a Pharisee. ² After dark one evening, he came to speak with Jesus. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.”

³ Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.”

⁴ “What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicodemus. “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?”

⁵ Jesus replied, “I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. ⁶ Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life.⁷ So don’t be surprised when I say, ‘You must be born again.’ ⁸The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.”

At least, that is how many English translations render it. But the Greek word anōthen can mean both “again” and “from above”.

Nicodemus hears “again” and thinks of physical birth. “How can someone be born when they are old?” (v.4).

But Jesus redirects the conversation towards the Spirit: “Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.” He then speaks of the wind, which blows wherever it pleases.

Nicodemus hears again. Jesus points above.

Have we built a theology around Nicodemus’s misunderstanding?

For generations, “born again” has become shorthand for conversion, particularly in evangelical Christianity. We ask: When were you born again? Did you accept Jesus? Pray the sinner’s prayer? Can you tell your testimony?

Without realising it, the focus can shift from where life comes from to what we did to obtain it. I decided. I believed. I prayed. I accepted.

But nobody causes their own birth, earns it or performs a sequence of actions to bring themselves into existence. Life is given. Perhaps that is precisely why Jesus uses birth as his metaphor. This new life begins with God, not us.

The irony!

Christianity can place enormous emphasis on a specific moment of conversion: before and after, unsaved and saved, old life and new life.

Yet Jesus offers Nicodemus no formula. He offers him the wind: something whose effects we can see but whose movement we cannot control. Say these words. Believe these propositions. Make this decision. Cross this theological line.

Jesus seems less interested in giving Nicodemus a procedure than reminding him that the life of God cannot be reduced to one. The Spirit moves. Life comes from above. We receive it.

John had already told us this John 1:12–13 describes God’s children as those “born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God”.

Not of human decision. Born of God.

Of course, our choices matter. Faith involves response, and people can consciously turn towards God. But John places the deepest source of this new life elsewhere. God gives life. The Spirit gives birth. Grace comes first. We respond to something we did not create.

Perhaps Jesus is saying something more radical

Nicodemus is already religious. He knows Scripture, teaches Israel and understands the traditions. Yet Jesus does not tell him to become more religious or try harder. He tells him he needs life from beyond himself.

That challenges our tendency to build systems, define insiders and outsiders, and decide who is saved. We establish tests of authenticity: the right prayer, beliefs or experience. Then Jesus says, “The wind blows wherever it pleases.” That is much harder to control.

Perhaps being born from above changes the question. Instead of asking only, When were you born again?, perhaps we should also ask: What is giving life to you now? Is our life shaped by fear, status, religious identity, the need to be right or the need to decide who belongs? Or is the Spirit producing something different in us: love, grace, mercy, patience, compassion, humility, justice and peace?

Perhaps the evidence of being born from above is not simply remembering when it happened but noticing the person we are becoming.

What I take from all of this is… (after my brain fried a little)

I don’t think Christians need to stop using the phrase born again. The Greek word genuinely carries that meaning, and many people have experienced profound transformation through traditions that use this language.

But perhaps the phrase has sometimes become smaller than the idea Jesus was offering.

Born again can become a label; born from above describes the source of our life.

Born again can become a past event; born from above asks where our life is coming from now.

Born again can become something we claim; born from above reminds us that life is something we receive.

Nicodemus hears again. Jesus points above. Perhaps Christianity has sometimes preserved Nicodemus’s wording while losing sight of Jesus’s direction.

And perhaps the deeper invitation is not simply to remember when we became Christians, but to ask whether the life of God is still bringing something new to birth within us.

The bit where you get to think about stuff: Questions for the week.

Have I ever treated being born again as evidence that my spiritual status is secure rather than asking whether the Spirit is still transforming me?

Do I think of my faith primarily in terms of a decision I made, or in terms of a life I continue to receive from God?

If Jesus is speaking more about being born from above than simply being born again, what might that change about the way I understand conversion, salvation and the Christian life?