Line Upon LineLine Upon Line
John 3

Nic at Night | Sunday, July 12, 2026

July 12, 2026 · Pastor Miles DeBenedictis

In this teaching

In a verse-by-verse study of John 3, Pastor Miles examines Jesus's nighttime conversation with Nicodemus, showing that no amount of religious effort can make a person righteous. True entrance into the kingdom of God comes only through being born again—a work of God by the Spirit through faith in Christ, who was lifted up on the cross as the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness.

  • John's Gospel is distinct among the four, built around seven "I am" statements, seven signs, and numerous one-on-one encounters like the one with Nicodemus, written so readers might believe Jesus is the Christ.
  • Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a ruler of the Jews, and "the teacher in Israel"—the ideal self-righteous man—yet Jesus told him his religious works could not make him righteous.
  • Self-righteousness produces arrogance ("look what I have done") and judgmentalism ("look what you have not done"), and makes the gospel seem foolish or offensive.
  • Being "born again" (Greek *anōthen*, "born from above") is a spiritual birth distinct from physical birth, promised centuries earlier through Ezekiel.
  • The seven-fold repetition of "believe" answers Nicodemus's question of *how*: one is born again by God, by the Spirit, through faith in Christ.
  • As Moses lifted up the bronze serpent so the bitten could look and live, Christ was lifted up on the cross; Nicodemus, present at the crucifixion, appears to have finally believed.

Readable is a lightly edited reading copy; Verbatim stays close to the spoken words. The audio and video are the record of what was said.

There was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night... "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him." Jesus answered, "Most assuredly I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."... "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life."

The most famous rabbi of his day meets the most famous verse in the Bible—and discovers his religious résumé cannot open the kingdom of God.

Why the Gospel of John Is Different

We're in our summer series called Fly on the Wall, and today we're in the Gospel of John. Among the four gospels, John is distinct. Matthew, Mark, and Luke are called the synoptic gospels because they give a brief synopsis of largely the same material in roughly the same order. Textual critics often suggest they shared common source material, and that Mark was likely written first. Whether or not that's the case is beside the point—what is clear is that John stands out. Some scholars note John contains around 85–90% new material not found in the other three.

John also tells us exactly why he wrote. In he says Jesus did many other signs, "but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name." John recorded a series of Jesus's sayings and signs. There are seven "I am" statements—I am the bread of life, the gate, the shepherd, the way, the truth, and the life, the resurrection—and seven validating signs, such as turning water into wine, feeding the multitude, and raising Lazarus. These prove that Jesus is the anointed Messiah and Emmanuel, God with us.

Eleven One-on-One Encounters

John also records no fewer than eleven private, one-on-one meetings where Jesus interacts with a single individual: Nathaniel in chapter 2, Nicodemus in chapter 3, the woman at the well in chapter 4, the paralytic at Bethesda in chapter 5, the blind man in chapter 9, the woman taken in adultery, Martha in chapter 11, John the Baptist's disciples, Jesus's mother Mary, and Pontius Pilate in chapters 18–19. These personal encounters became the inspiration for this series, and four of our final eight studies will be here in John. Today we begin in chapter 3.

For many, is a familiar story containing the most famous verse in the Bible. If you've ever watched an NFL game, you've seen someone in the end zone holding a sign reading "." It's not only the most famous verse but the most translated verse of the Bible. And it shows up in a conversation with a man who was, in his day, like the Leo Messi of the religious world—Nicodemus. He was a Pharisee, a ruler of the Jews, part of the ruling body called the Sanhedrin, and Jesus calls him "the teacher in Israel." There are so many things we could zero in on in these twenty-one verses, but today we'll look at three crucial takeaways.

The Finest Specimen of First-Century Judaism

By every external measure, Nicodemus was one of the finest specimens of first-century Judaism you could find. He was a Pharisee, a Jewish sect that arose during the time of Ezra and Nehemiah—men who were part of the minority of exiles who returned to Jerusalem after Babylon to rebuild the city, the temple, and their lives in devotion to their faith. Out of that group came those ardently committed to the law of Moses and the traditions of the fathers—the separatists. The word Pharisee is connected to that idea of separation. Anytime you meet someone deeply committed to their faith and good works, at the very least you have to commend the commitment.

Nicodemus was also a ruler of the Jews, one of the elite seventy on the Sanhedrin, the council that made decisions for the nation regarding faith and the temple. Jesus calls him "the teacher in Israel." This man likely had memorized large sections—if not the whole—of Genesis through Deuteronomy. If any human being could have been thought righteous by his credentials, this man had them: the proper moral effort, the theological expertise, the reputation for holiness.

The Confidence of Self-Righteousness

The Pharisees believed their credentials assured them a privileged position in this life and the next. Another Pharisee gives us a window into this thinking. Before he was the Apostle Paul, he was Saul, and in he lists his reasoning:

Though I also might have confidence in the flesh... circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of the Hebrews; concerning the law, a Pharisee; concerning zeal, persecuting the church; concerning the righteousness which is in the law, blameless.

Circumcision may seem an odd first item, but to a Jew it was the sign of the covenant given to Abraham. Saul is saying he came from parents so devoted they circumcised him on the proper day; his lineage traced through Benjamin all the way back to Abraham with no Gentiles in the family tree—something Jesus himself could not claim, for Ruth was in his line. And "according to the law, blameless." The Jewish sages had counted 613 commandments in the first five books, and Saul claims he kept them all, point for point. The audacity to think it, say it, and write it down.

Prior to conversion, Saul—and probably Nicodemus with him—was what we would call self-righteous and hyper-religious. When you are convinced of your righteousness by your works, you cannot help but be arrogant and judgmental: arrogance says "look what I have done," and judgmentalism says "look what you have not done." We do this too, gauging our righteousness by the unrighteousness of others. "Well, maybe I'm not as good as Greg Laurie—who is?—but I'm a lot better than so-and-so."

Point One: Your Religious Works Do Not Make You Righteous

So how do you deal with a self-righteous, hyper-religious man like Nicodemus? Notice Jesus's answer: "Most assuredly I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." Here is the simple and most challenging indictment—your religious works do not make you righteous. For a man whose entire framework says righteousness comes precisely from doing the right things, this is devastating.

That's why the glorious sixteenth verse doesn't make sense to the self-righteous. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son..."—the self-righteous person thinks, I don't need that. The gospel becomes an offense, because it implies you are sinful and need a sacrifice. Paul says in that the message of the cross is foolishness to some. The good news only becomes good against the backdrop of the badness of our sin. When Paul writes in Romans, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God," the self-righteous person asks, "What does all mean? It can't mean me."

Point Two: Your Self-Righteousness Won't Save You

And so, point two—your self-righteousness won't save you. You must be born again. With this, Nicodemus's head explodes. It causes cognitive dissonance; it doesn't fit his map of religion, so he takes it literally: "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb?" Two things seem absurd to him. First, he believed himself a shoo-in for the kingdom—"I did all the things; give me the list and I'll keep the list." Second, "you must be born again" simply doesn't compute. Twice he asks, "How can these things be?"—in and again in .

He had no category for this. In his view, Judaism was a behaviorist religion—and that view persists today. Dennis Prager, a committed Jewish man and amateur theologian who has written commentary on the books of Moses, said plainly on a panel with Jordan Peterson: the Jewish religion is behaviorist. "We don't care about your heart. We care about your behavior." That was Nicodemus. If you do the right things and avoid the wrong things, you are righteous. He kept the whole law—"concerning the law, blameless." And Jesus tells him it isn't enough.

Point Three: The New Birth Is Wrought by God, by the Spirit, Through Faith

Thankfully, Jesus is full of grace and truth, and Nicodemus asks an honest question, so Jesus gives a great answer. "Unless one is born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God... Do not marvel that I say to you, you must be born again. The wind blows where it wishes..."

Jesus isn't inventing something new. Five centuries earlier, Ezekiel had said it: "I will sprinkle you with clean water, and you shall be clean... I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you" (). Being "born of water" is the physical birth we all experienced. Being "born of the Spirit" is a new birth from above—the word again is the Greek anōthen, "born from above." A physical birth we all know; a spiritual birth from above, brought about by God, is essential to see the kingdom. And Jesus says, "Do not marvel," even though it is the most marvelous, miraculous thing imaginable.

Nicodemus asks again, "How can these things be?"—using a word that essentially means, "What is the mechanism of action? I understand how babies are made and born, but how does this new birth take place?" Jewish rabbis emphasized by repetition, so watch for the repeated word in Jesus's reply. Seven times: believe, believe, believe, believe, believe, believe, believe. Not merely a mental nod—but faith. Believe in what?

Lifted Up Like the Serpent in the Wilderness

To answer, Jesus reaches back to an obscure eight-verse story in that Nicodemus would have known. As Israel wandered from Egypt to the promised land, they murmured and complained—hot, tired, weary of the manna. As judgment, fiery, venomous serpents came and bit them, and people died. When they cried to Moses, God gave a strange instruction: make a bronze serpent, set it on a pole in the middle of the camp, and anyone bitten who looks at it will live.

It sounds absurd. Surely some refused: "I'm not looking at that stupid bronze snake." But whoever looked upon it lived. Paul tells us in that these Old Testament events were recorded as examples for our instruction. This is a biblical type, a foreshadowing. In Scripture the serpent represents sin, and bronze pictures judgment. Sin is lifted up under judgment, and whoever will simply look and trust is saved. "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

So here is point three: the born-again experience is wrought by God, by the Spirit, through faith. When you arrive at the gate of the kingdom, no one will ask to see your résumé. The question is: have you been born again, made a child of God? How? By trust in Christ—crucified, judged in your place for your sin.

Good Works Are Good—but Not Good Enough

Jesus is not saying good works are bad. They are good, and something in us drives us toward them—"just give me the list, even 613 things, and I'll do them." Some keep the list better than others; we call them Pharisees. The trouble is that keeping the list well makes it easy to look down on those who don't. But it's not about the CV; it's about the birth certificate. Good works are good—just not good enough to make you good before a perfectly holy God.

Again, Jesus introduces nothing new to Judaism. Isaiah said it 800 years earlier: "All of us are as an unclean thing, and all our righteousness is as filthy rags." Even my best works on my best day are stained by sin. Paul confirms the order in Titus 3: "not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy, he saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit." Then he adds that those who have believed should be careful to maintain good works. says the same: "For by grace are you saved through faith... not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works."

In the quiet and stillness of our own hearts, when it's just us and our conscience, we know we don't keep the things rightly—we miss the mark, and missing the mark is sin. There's only one way to deal with sin, and it isn't more good works or more church attendance, as good as those are. By my religious works I will not be righteous. My self-righteousness will not save me. I must be born again by God, by the Spirit, through faith. That is the good news of the gospel.

What Happened to Nicodemus

seems to leave Nicodemus hanging; moves straight to , and we're left asking, "Wait—where's Nick?" He reappears briefly a few chapters later, urging the other Pharisees to hear Jesus before condemning him. Then he shows up again in chapter 19. After the crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for Jesus's body, "and Nicodemus, who at first came to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds." Together they bound the body in linen and laid it in a new tomb.

Nicodemus saw Jesus lifted up on a cross. And I think in that moment everything clicked—"as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up." He had an overwhelming sense of his own sinfulness, that he had been bitten by the serpent and needed a Savior. And he trusted in Christ. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever trusts in him will not perish but have everlasting life." I'm thankful we got to be a fly on the wall for one of the most important stories in all the Bible.

Closing Prayer

God, thank you for the opportunity to see and hear this conversation between you and Nicodemus. Thank you for what it reveals about your character—you loved us and gave for us. And thank you for what it reveals about our own character: that even though we might want to do good, even try to do good, and actually do good, it was never good enough to make us right before you, a perfectly holy God. So you came and accomplished what we could not. You died in our place on the cross that we might receive salvation. Thank you, Jesus, that you who knew no sin became sin for us, that we might be made righteous by trust in you. We praise you and thank you in Jesus's name. Amen.

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