When I moved away from home for college, I went only four hours north of my parents’ house. I was far enough away that visits weren’t spontaneous, but still close enough so that I could go home for breaks and my dad could bring me my winter jacket when I accidentally left it at home one unseasonably warm Thanksgiving. After I graduated, I moved in the opposite direction and added an hour to my commute, but it was still relatively easy to go between Seminary and my parents’ house. My internship year in Seattle was the first time I had been this far away from my family for more than a few weeks when I had previously been traveling. To pack up the car and drive this far away, expecting to return to the Midwest after that year, and ultimately making the move more permanent, I was truly experiencing the feeling of moving away from home. I would no longer be seeing my family for every school break and holiday, as had been my reality for the last 20 years. I didn’t know what was waiting for me on the West Coast, just that I was being sent.
This move away from home really helped me to grow into a more independent adult, learning how to navigate much of life without the close guidance of my parents…except when I would frequently call them with questions. However, the move away also brought a whole range of complicated emotions, including profound sadness and loneliness at missing so many of the milestones in my loved ones’ lives. It didn’t help that my internship was during the height of the pandemic, so my first Thanksgiving and Christmas away from home were spent by myself in my apartment. I had to miss birthdays and holidays, watching my niece grow up through a phone screen rather than being able to witness it in person. Being so far away when my grandparents were in their last days, feeling guilty about wanting to be in two places at once. But, I never took for granted the way that I was still able to communicate with my family, in ways that Sarai and Abram wouldn’t have been able to. And, I’m grateful that my family is only a direct flight away, even if that means I have spent far too many hours in airports and on planes, racking up flight expenses and airline miles, since I made the move.
Perhaps because of the presence of my namesake in today’s Gospel reading (Genesis 12: 1-4a), I do resonate with the story of Abram and Sarai, when they are being sent by God and called to leave their homeland and their family, trusting only in what God is promising them. They do not know where they are going or what the future is going to hold for them, but they are invited to trust God in this sending out. So frequently, when we feel the Spirit moving, calling us to change something about our existence, it feels like we are being called to step out into the unknown. This can be deeply uncomfortable for so many people, myself included. I know you might not be able to tell by how I present myself up here on Sunday mornings, but I am actually terrified of new experiences, at least the idea of them. It doesn’t matter if it is something I am looking forward to or not, my anxiety always spikes before I do anything new. I much prefer the comfort of the familiar. Yet over and over again, God continues to call us to new ventures, on paths as yet unknown, if only we are willing to listen.
I think about how this gets played out with the story of Nicodemus today too. It’s always an interesting story to imagine, as we hear about Nicodemus coming to ask Jesus his questions by the cover of night (John 3: 1-2). I imagine him like the kids who I used to play night games with, hiding behind trees, ducking under bushes, trying to remain unseen by any who are passing by. I don’t think it would have been like in the rom-coms when they throw rocks at a window, although that would be quite funny to imagine too. The story also doesn’t tell us whether or not Nicodemus was going on his own accord or if he was sent by the other Pharisees. Was his interest sincere, or was he being sent as a spy on a fact-finding mission? Either way, he would not have wanted to be seen fraternizing with Jesus.
Yet, when Nicodemus approaches Jesus, he begins by saying, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God’ (John 3: 2b). In this statement, Nicodemus is essentially honoring the Godly authority that Jesus has to be teaching. Yet, his hesitation seems to be in how these things are lived out. He is hearing things that are different than what he was taught to believe, he trusts that Jesus was sent as a teacher from God, and he cannot seem to understand how both of these things can be true based on his previous existence. He is being asked to step into the unknown when it comes to his faith and his understanding of the religious teachings, something he still isn’t quite fully able to comprehend. None of this is new, as we continue to still wrestle with what our faith means for us today too. For anyone who has experienced this kind of dissonance, you know it can be incredibly uncomfortable.
For Nicodemus and others, Jesus’ teachings were calling them to shift away from an understanding of God’s grace only being for those who keep the faith in the right way to recognizing that God desires life for the world. The laws are not meant to be punishing and restrictive, but to help people live more faithfully with God and their fellow humans. People often quote John 3:16 on its own, using it as a justification for their sense of Christian superiority and condemnation of others, but it should really be spoken conjunction with the following verse too. “For God loved the world in this way, that God gave the Son, the only begotten one, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3: 16-17). This love is a free gift, made real for us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Nothing about that should make sense to us based on what the world has to tell us about what it means to be worthy of love. There are always strings attached, boxes to check, and rules to follow. But that is not what God is saying.
This Romans reading pushes back against that worldly understanding too, recognizing that the promises of God come to us through faith, through trust that the promises are true, even when they feel hard to believe. Abram could have put his foot down and said there was no way he was going to leave the place he had always known, but instead he took Lot with him, trusting in the promise that he, a man who has not yet had children, would be the ancestor of a great nation (Genesis 12: 1-4a). He didn’t know what all was going to happen in his future, but he heard where God was sending him and answered the call, gathering the courage to step into the unknown.
As the Psalmist talks about, “The Lord will watch over your going out and your coming in, from this time forth forevermore” (Psalm 121: 8); the faith we are being invited into is one that is relational. And, because of its relational nature, our faith also necessitates action. Whether that is being attentive to the ways God is speaking to us through Scripture and the creation around us or being willing to step out of our comfort zones when we feel God is calling us forward in a new direction. Our faith is one that is not stagnant, but active; growing, changing, questioning, and moving throughout our whole lives. Our action is meant to help us experience and share God’s love for the world; it does not call us to take on the role of God, doling out judgement and condemnation. We get to be the recipients of the promises in John 3: 16 and 17. This is one of the beautiful gifts that God gives to us, along with the promise that God will be with us every step of the way when we take that step out of our comfort zone. As I’ve said before, it’s not a promise that everything will always be amazing and easy every second of every day, but it is a promise that we do not go about this life alone. So when we are at the edge of a next path, scared to take that next step toward whatever lies ahead, may we remember these promises and go out into the unknown.
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Sunday February 22th, 2026 Worship