The phone rings. I say an innocent hello. Unexpected news fills my eyes with tears, my thoughts with fears, and the conversation with unanswerable questions.
Have you ever gotten a call like this? Most of us will in this lifetime. If not a call, then there will be a surprising moment, a sudden fissure in the foundation of our existence, that leaves us shaken and confused. Where is God in those moments? Does He even care about such things?
I think of Nicodemus, the Pharisee who came to Jesus with uncertainty and questions. He didn’t do so in broad daylight; “He came to Jesus at night” (John 3:2). We can come to Jesus in the dark, feeling our way through the shadows, and show up in His presence when it feels like the sun has gone down in our lives.
Nicodemus likely chose this timing because of fear. We, too, can come to Jesus when fear still makes our hearts beat hard, with trembling hands and worry creasing our foreheads. Jesus doesn’t say, “Get rid of your fear, then come.” No, He is a show-up-as-you-are God. Our emotions don’t intimidate or offend Him, our humanness doesn’t surprise Him. He is glad we are here, no matter how we arrived.
In this conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus speaks well-known words. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
I’ve heard this beloved verse a thousand times, yet it brings tears to my eyes as I type this morning. I realize in a new way that Jesus is saying, “Nicodemus, long before you came to me, God chose to come for you.” The same is true for all of us. And God came not out of duty or obligation, not with a sigh of annoyance or a roll of His eyes. No, God loved, so He put skin on and came.
Not only did God come, but He did so without condemnation. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (John 3:17). So often, when we think of approaching God with our hurts, frustrations, disappointments, and doubts, we picture him as distant or critical.
But the voice of our inner critic isn’t the voice of the One who loves us. In our most tender moments, Jesus offers the gentleness of grace, the “welcome home” of a dear friend, and the comfort of one who knows what it means to weep.
Jesus finishes His conversation with Nicodemus by saying, “Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light” (John 3:21). This is a beautiful transition. Nicodemus comes in the night, and Jesus ends by inviting him into the light—the same invitation He still has for each of us.
What does this look like in our day-to-day lives? It can be as small as pausing right now to say, “Jesus, I come to you in the night, in the dark places of my life. I bring you my questions and fears, my longings and hurt, my hopes and sorrows. Thank you that long before I ever came to you, you came for me, and you have never stopped. I trust you to meet me with love in this moment. I release everything and everyone to you. With your grace and great gentleness, bring your light where I need it most today. Amen.”
We come to Jesus in the night to know we are not alone. We come to remember how much we’re loved. We come to place our questions before the only One who has the truth we need even more than answers.
More For You
If you’re in a season of unanswered questions because of broken trust or hurt in a relationship, my online course, Heal After You’re Hurt can help. Angela, a graduate, said, “It was exactly what I needed at exactly the right time.”
