John 3:14-21
Jesus tries to explain to Nicodemus that radical, inclusive, extravagant, unconditional love that God has for the whole world. This verse (16) is lifted up all the time, the most well known verse in scripture, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” For God so loved the world.
The world. “Kosmos,” the creation. The physical, worldly. The sinful. God’s extravagant and gracious love is not limited to the church, to the good, to the moral, to the believers. God’s love is for the whole world, in order to save them. This is not a text warning Nicodemus to believe so that he won’t perish; it’s about God’s love for Nicodemus, and all of us, whether we believe or not. God gave Jesus over to death for them, that happened first, and it happened unconditionally, so that they can have the opportunity to believe. For God so loved the whole world.
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Great show. New house for people who are caring, good people. Just don’t have the resources to rebuild their home. People commit all kinds of time and energy and appliances and resources for this particular family. Only one thing that stops this from revealing the fullness of God’s love that Jesus spoke of to Nicodemus in John 3, from the show’s tagline, “Put together one very run-down house, a deserving family, several opinionated designers, seven days and what do you get? The answer is - Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.” God’s love is for them, to be sure. But God loves the whole world with that kind of love. So who shows God’s love to the “undeserving” families?
Abdul Rahman, Afghani Muslim who converted to Christianity about 16 years ago. Now faces a death sentence because it is a capital crime Afghanistan to abandon Islam. A Christian group here in the US heard about this and has begun moving to save this man’s life.
Good thing to do. Except they are apparently doing it because he’s a Christian. Would they do it if he was under a death sentence for converting from Christianity to Islam?
For God so loved the whole world.
War in Iraq. We all know people serving there. We are hoping desperately they return safely. These are our family and our friends. So we pray for God to protect them.
But what about the insurgents? What about the local citizens who are fighting against us. Do we pray for them? They are part of the world too. For God so loved the whole world.
This is the kind of love that God has for us. God has loved us not because we were good, or holy, or righteous, or Americans, or part of the church, but because God so loves the whole world that he gave his only Son. We are loved with a radical, transforming kind of love; and it is that love that makes us good, holy, righteous, and part of the church. It is this love that forgives us, that gives us a new life. It is this love that God has filled us with, and this love that we now reveal to the rest of the whole world. For God so loved the whole world.
So it seems that loving your next door neighbor, or a fellow congregational member, or the people here on Green Mountain, or those in Jefferson County, or those impoverished and starving is a pretty easy call. We show to them the love that God has shown to us. We do for them what God has done for us. We serve them the way God serves us. Not because they deserve it – they don’t – but because God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
Story by preacher and sociologist Tony Campolo.[4] Campolo is walking up and down the streets of Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning. He has flown in from New York and the time difference means that he’s up and ready to go way before dawn in Hawaii, looking for something to eat.
“Up a side street I found a little place that was still open,” he says. I went in, took a seat on one of the stools at the counter, and waited to be served. This was one of those sleazy places that deserves the name ‘greasy spoon.’ I mean, I did not even touch the menu. I was afraid that if I opened the thing something gruesome would crawl out. But it was the only place I could find.
“The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked me, ‘What d’ya want?’
“I told him, ‘A cup of coffee and a donut.’ “He poured a cup of coffee, wiped his grimy hand on his smudged apron, then grabbed a donut off the shelf behind him. I’m a realist. I know that in the back room of that restaurant, donuts are probably dropped on the floor and kicked around. But when everything is out front where I could see it, I really would have appreciated it if he had used a pair of tongs and placed the donut on some wax paper. “As I sat there munching on my donut and sipping my coffee at three-thirty in the morning the door of the diner suddenly swung open, and to my discomfort, in marched eight or nine provocative and boisterous prostitutes.
“It was a small place and they sat on either side of me. Their talk was loud and crude. I felt completely out of place and was just about to make my getaway when I overheard the woman sitting beside me say, ‘Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m going to be thirty-nine.’ “Her ‘friend’ responded in a nasty tone, ‘So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday?’
“’Come on!’ said the woman next to me. ‘Why do you have to be so mean? I was just telling you, that’s all. Why do you have to put me down? I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don’t want anything from you. I mean, why should you give me a birthday party? I’ve never had a birthday part in my whole life. Why should I have one now?’”
When Campolo heard this, he made a decision. When the women had left he called to the “fat guy” behind the counter and asked if the women came in there every night. To which the man replied, “Yeah.” Campolo inquired specifically about the woman who was sitting next to him. The man told him her name was “Agnes” and she came in every night too. Then he demanded to know of Campolo why he wanted to know.
Campolo said, “Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her – right here – tomorrow night?” “A smile crossed his chubby face and he answered with measured delight. ‘That’s great! I like it! That’s a great idea!’ Calling to his wife, who did the cooking in the back room, he shouted, ‘Hey! Come out here!” And he told her what this stranger wanted to do. The woman replied, “That’s wonderful! You know Agnes is one of those people who is really nice and kind, and nobody ever does anything nice and kind for her.”
So the three unlikely cohorts agreed on a plan and Harry (the guy behind the counter) volunteered to bake a cake.
At 2:30 the next morning, Campolo was back at the diner with crepe paper decorations and big pieces of cardboard that read “Happy Birthday, Agnes!” He got the place looking pretty festive. He figured the woman who did the cooking had done a pretty good job of getting the word out because by 3:15 it seemed that every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. “It was wall-to-wall prostitutes . . . and me!” he says.
“At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I had everybody ready. . . and when they came in we all screamed, ‘Happy Birthday!’”
Agnes was a combination of flabbergasted, stunned, and shaken. “Her mouth fell open. Her legs seemed to buckle a bit. Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her. As she was led to one of the stools along the counter we all sang “Happy Birthday” to her.” Campolo says her eyes moistened and when the birthday cake was presented with all of its candles lit, “she lost it and just openly cried.”
“Harry gruffly mumbled, ‘Blow out the candles, Agnes! Come on! Blow out the candles! If you don’t blow out the candles, I’m gonna hafta blow out the candles.” And he did. Then he handed her a knife and instructed her to cut it so everyone could eat.
“Agnes looked down at the cake. Then without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, ‘Look, Harry, is it all right with you if I . . . is it okay if I keep the cake a little while? I mean is it all right if we don’t eat it right away?”
“Harry shrugged and answered, ‘Sure! It’s okay. If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it home if you want to.’
‘Can I? she asked. Then she explained that she wanted to take it home and show it to her mother and she promised to come right back.
“She got off the stool, picked up the cake, and carrying it like it was the Holy Grail, walked slowly toward the door” and left. There was a stunned silence in the place, and not knowing what else to do, Campolo looked around and said, “What do you say we pray?”
“Looking back on it now it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at three-thirty in the morning. But it just felt like the right thing to do.”
When he had finished the prayer, Harry leaned over the counter and said, “Hey! You never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?”
It was one of those moments when just the right words came: “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at three-thirty in the morning.”
Harry waited a moment, then he answered, “No you don’t. There’s no church like that. If there was, I’d join it. I’d join a church like that!”
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” For God so loved the whole world.
[4] Tony Campolo, Let Me Tell You a Story, Word Publishing, Nashville: 2000, 216.