September 14, 2025

Born Again

You know what irritates the heck out of me?  It’s what has happened to the phrase, “born again.”  It’s been taken over by fundamentalists and evangelicals and turned into a code word for membership in a club.  If someone wears the “born again Christian” label, they are automatically identified with a whole laundry list of conservative religious and political views.  It means they’re “pro-life” when it comes to abortion, “pro-death” when it comes to the death penalty, “anti-science” when it comes to teaching evolution or sponsoring stem-cell research, and just plain “anti-” when it comes to homosexuality.

Somehow, I don’t think that’s what Jesus meant when he said to Nicodemus, “You must be born again.”  I really don’t think he had any political or social issues in mind at the time.  In fact, it’s pretty clear that he was offering Nicodemus a pun – a play on words.  The Greek phrase gennethenai anothen can be translated “born again” or “born from above.”  Nicodemus hears it as “you must be born again”, but it’s clear as the conversation proceeds that Jesus is talking about being “born from above.”  He says, “What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit.”  The contrast he’s making is between that which is born below (i.e. “of the flesh”) and that which is born from above (“of the spirit”).  But the fact that it can be taken either way is quite intentional.  It’s one of those wonderful gems of Biblical literature that draw you into multiple layers of understanding and challenge you to think more deeply into life.

Have you been “born again” (or “born from above”)?  I have.  It happened when I was about twelve years old.  I went through what we Baptists called a “membership class” for young people (we congregationalists call it “confirmation”).  At the end of the class, I knew it was time for me to be baptized, and I knew it was expected of me particularly since I was the preacher’s kid.  So, I was baptized.  But I also felt very strongly about making a personal decision to follow Christ.  I wasn’t entirely sure what all that would mean, but it did feel important to me, and the water of that baptistry seemed powerful and renewing.  Of course, my brush with holiness was short lived.  The next day, after school, I was back to my evil ways: sneaking off to the pool hall with my friends, and listening to Dion sing “I’m a Wanderer.”

 I was “born . . . again” about five years later when a Sunday School teacher seemed really interested in what I had to say.  In fact, he seemed really interested in what all the kids in the class had to say.  I thought he was a pretty neat guy, and I thought for the first time in years that maybe going to Sunday School could be a cool thing.  We talked about stuff we cared about.  Something touched me in that class, and I started to think for the first time that maybe I could have a faith that was my own, not just going along with what my parents believed, or thought I should believe.  But that didn’t last long either.  I ended up spending my days thinking about a girl named Judy, and decided I might convert to Judaism after all – Judy was Jewish.

I was “born again” again when I was in my early twenties.  I had been on the police force for a year or two, and joined a church in town because I thought it might look good in my personnel file when I went for promotions.  I accepted a position on the board of deacons, then I never showed up for a single deacons’ meeting.  They asked me to teach Sunday School, and I thought that would make me look like a real solid, community-oriented guy, too, so I did it.  But I had no idea what I was doing, and became so intimidated trying to teach a bunch of Jr. High kids about something I didn’t understand that I gave it up in a matter of weeks.  Through all of my irresponsible dabbling in being a “church guy” I never heard a single word of criticism from that lovely bunch of people.  I found only acceptance, genuine friendship, and support there.  It was the seed bed of that loving bunch of people that gave a context to my experience of calling into the ministry.  O yes, I was “born again” then, too – when I heard the voice of eternity whispering in my ear and sending me a whole new direction in life.

I was “born again” another time when a seminary professor encouraged me to look deep inside and come up with my own statement of theology.  My studies basically took me through a process of tearing down every construct of belief that I had erected to that point and starting over from scratch.  I found myself asking, “OK, Mike, forget what you think the Bible, or the teachers, or the church, or anyone else says you should believe, what, exactly, do you believe, and what don’t you believe?”  That’s when I really started to own my faith.  Someone was actually giving me the freedom to throw out anything I didn’t want to swallow, and making me look into my own heart and head for answers.  That was amazingly liberating.  And it’s when I actually started to “get it.”

Within a few years, my marriage fell apart, and my fledgling career in the ministry was on the rocks.  I was depressed, and in an emotional and spiritual crisis of immense proportions.

But, as you can probably guess, I was “born again” when an angel came down from heaven and turned my life around. Her name was Dadgie.  In fact, I’ve been “born again” so many times now, I’ve lost track.  I was “born again” just the other day when Dadgie and I had a meaningful and moving conversation with an old friend.  I’m “born again” just about every time I come here and have my heart touched by each of you.

By tomorrow I’ll probably be out on the road somewhere in my truck, frustrated at trying to get somewhere faster than I really need to, and yelling at some idiot for cutting me off in traffic, and feeling a corner of my soul turn dark and cold.  But it doesn’t concern me much, because by now I know that the Divine plan for me is to be “born again.”

I love the story that Dadgie told me of a couple who were in a church group with her years ago in a church in upstate New York.  Bob and Ann were sharing a story about something that happened to them on the previous Sunday afternoon.  Bob was out working in the yard, when the pastor of a local fundamentalist Baptist church approached.  Without any words of introduction, the preacher started in, “Brother, have you been born again?”  Bob put down his rake and looked at the man.  He paused for a long while, thinking and mulling the question over in his mind.  Finally, he answered, “Well, sometimes I’d say yes, and sometimes, no.”  That’s all the preacher needed.  He launched into his rehearsed Bible verses to explain why Bob just didn’t understand what being “born again” was all about, and why he desperately needed spiritual regeneration once and for all.  He wasn’t getting very far with Bob and his frustration was mounting.  But in the middle of it, Ann came outside to see what was going on.  As she stepped out of the house, the clergyman looked up and addressed her straight off.  “Sister, have you been born again?”  he asked.  Ann stopped on the stairs and stood looking at him, considering her response.  Finally, she said, “Well, sometimes, I’d say yes, and sometimes, no.”  At this, the preacher was so dismayed that he simply shook his head and walked off.

Being “born again” is being “born from above”.  It is the bewildering and besetting Spirit that blows in and out of our lives like the wind and summons us to a deepening relationship with eternal Grace – the Ground of our Being.  According to Jesus, the Spirit is unpredictable, “blowing where it chooses.”  And those who are born of this Spirit find it to be mysterious.  We may sense it, like hearing a sound, but we don’t’ know where it’s going to come from next, or when it will blow by us.  But Jesus made it clear that, although the path we take when we are “born from above” is a perplexing thing, like walking through a windstorm, the end result is redemption and wholeness.  He said that the purpose of the one he called his “Father” was “not to condemn the world,” but that “the world might be saved.”

That means that whatever it is to be “born again” – or “born from above,” it’s something that leads to “salvation.”  And what’s that?  Salvation is synonymous with redemption, recovery, retrieval.  It’s like what happens when you return empty Coke bottles and they clean them up and fill them with new soda.  It’s like what happens when you pick an old basket out of a pile of trash and take it home and fill it with flowers.  That’s the sort of thing that happens to us every day – at least, it does to me.  Just when I feel like I’ve messed up about as badly as I can, someone comes along and forgives me.   Just when I think the world is going to hell in a handbasket, a little child’s smile saves my soul.  Just when I figure there’s nothing left to learn, I get slapped upside the head by the Spirit and the lights go on again.

Yes, I’ve been “born again” – and again, and again, and again.  In the final analysis, I think this is what it means to be “born again” or “born from above”:  It is to struggle against the principalities and powers, and to sometimes fail, but sometimes win a small victory for justice.  It is to fall flat on your face and learn something by it.  It is to sometimes take two steps back for every step forward, but end up growing and becoming more than you were.  It is to feel, in rare and privileged moments, the wind of eternity in your face, and be reminded that you are one with the universe, and the Source of Existence.  It is to wake up every morning and put your slippers on, shake the sleep out of your eyes and plug in the coffee pot, stand in front of the bathroom mirror and say, “OK, Lord, here I am . . . again.”