Monologue – Nicodemus

Throughout our lenten journey this year our congregation has been following the lives of several people in their encounters with Christ. In the form of monologues we have listened to their story. Over the next few weeks we would like to share them with you as well. It has been a fun experience to write them and see from their perspective. We hope they will be a blessing to you as well.

I didn’t know how much that night-long conversation with You would change my life. I just wanted to hear a little more—to understand. I was curious. You were clearly a teacher sent by God. You performed many miraculous signs that could only be done if God walked with you. But I needed to be careful. As a member of the Sanhedrin, well respected by my people, I didn’t want others to know of our meeting. Not yet, anyway. So I came at night—in secrecy.

I’ll admit I was blind. So blind. Not physically, but spiritually. You told me, “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born again.” I didn’t understand. How could someone be born again? Someone could not enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born. I didn’t see. Didn’t understand. You spoke of new life — of new creation. I was a Pharisee, knowledgeable in the Scriptures, but you made me realize how little I knew.

You spoke of the Son of Man being lifted up, just like Moses lifted that bronze snake on a pole. I see what you meant now — crucifixion. You were the Son given for the sins of the world. For my sin.

Soon after our conversation, there was a meeting of the Sanhedrin — they wanted to denounce you as a false prophet. Your words about stepping out of darkness into the light rang in my ears, but again, I was cautious. I wanted to speak out and say, “This man was sent from God. How could you think of condemning him?” But instead, I did my best to make sure they were fair to you. I made sure you were able to speak your piece. I thought you would speak to them like you spoke to me that dark night. I had hoped you would see into their hearts and change them, impressing upon their hearts, as you did with me, that new birth comes by the Holy Spirit alone and not by any works or ritualistic observances.

Lord, now we meet once more. Just as I have finally stepped out in faith and put my trust in you as the Messiah, the Lord, I find you dead and crucified. But you promise life. Just as the bronze snake on a pole gave life to the Israelites, you promise life to all who look to you. This time, I visit you in the light of day. My eyes have been opened. The spices I have brought for your burial are suitable for a King — I did this to honour you, Jesus. It’s the least I could do for You, my Lord and my God.

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A special thanks to Glynis Belec for her help in the editing process.