The words of the beautiful and haunting hymn we just sang were written in 1633 by the British mystical poet, George Herbert. His text, of course, is based on the passage from the Gospel of John in which Jesus says, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." In that passage, he is speaking to Thomas, a troubled and anxious disciple. "Don't worry," Jesus seems to have wanted to say to his friend and follower, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. In finding me, Thomas, you find that way for your life, that truth and that true life that will make your life full of meaning and purpose. You need search no more and you need not fear the future."

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life," Jesus said. Of all the names for Jesus, the Way is maybe the most interesting and intriguing. It means-well, it means what we think it means: path, road, journey. The earliest Christians were actually known as the people of the Way. It meant that, as they became part of this new church, they had started down a new path, that they were in a new relationship with God, that in Christ their lives had taken on new purpose and meaning and direction. To be followers of Jesus Christ meant that they were on a journey with him to life made ever new.

In recent years, it has again become popular to speak of the life of faith as a journey, a faith journey. Journey language reminds us that we are moving, that we are always changing and growing. The journey image keeps us from getting too set in our ways, too comfortable with where we are. It's like a magnet, calling us forward into the beckoning horizon. Our journey with Christ is one of ever-deepening insight and wisdom. And on this journey, while there are places for rest and refreshment, we never arrive at a final destination and stop, for there is always more to learn and know and understand.

One of my favorite books when I was in seminary, written by a pioneering Presbyterian lay woman theologian, Nelle Morton, is entitled The Journey Is Home. The Journey Is Home. She got it right for us Christians, people of the Way. Christ calls us out of our old lives into new life with him that is never-ending. As people of the Way, it's good always to keep a bag packed and our maps out and our spirit eager to explore what lies just over the next hill.

When Jesus took that name for himself, the Way, he was falling right in line with a long heritage of biblical stories of journey. This morning, we heard read the one from the book of Genesis that is foundational to the whole Judeo-Christian enterprise. It was the story of the calling out and blessing of our ancestor, Abram. Did you hear it? The first sacred journey, if you will. Genesis 12. "Now the Lord said to Abram, 'GO from your country and your kindred and your father's house TO the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great so that you will be a blessing.' " The people of God have made the journey their home ever since.

God calls us over and over again out of the past, out of the identity we have inherited, out of routines and certainty, out of rigor mortis, out of everything that seemed to give us security. God calls us out and towards a whole new life. And just as Jesus discovered in the wilderness last week, in our willingness to put total faith in God will be found security of a whole different order. Rooted and grounded in God alone. The journey is home and there we are-God's people. And God will bless us to be a blessing to many, many more.

This understanding of our life of faith as a journey is, interestingly enough, the central theme for our new 2002 Confirmation Class, which has its first meeting tonight. I do hope you will keep our confirmands in your prayers, these eighth graders, who will be learning about and exploring the meaning of Christian faith and of their own faith journey in preparation for their confirmation on Pentecost Sunday, May 19th.

"Welcome to the journey," the first chapter begins. It says: "We support one another in our lifelong journey towards spiritual maturity. Growing means learning about the faith and living the faith. It means making hard ethical decisions. Growing in faith means being supported by other people in the congregation. Each church is like a caravan of people, who are called to grow in faith and in ability to teach the faith and to model faithful living."

Each church is like a caravan of people who are called to grow in faith . . . isn't that a great image? A caravan of people. It's an especially important word for us to hear, we who are part of an old, established congregation, who love our buildings and our history and our place so much. A caravan of people. Yes, we may be parked here for awhile, but God is always calling us out. Onward. Beyond what we know and have known. Calling us into a new land which only God can give. And in our willingness to stay open, to grow and change and become something we don't control or define or determine, God blesses us. And blesses us to be a blessing to others.

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life," says Jesus. And we are the people of the Way.

We have an unexpected role model in the person of Nicodemus. We heard part of his story this morning. He's a Pharisee, some say a member of the Sanhedrin, the high court. Nicodemus has evidently heard of the signs Jesus has performed and calls Jesus as rabbi, Teacher. In fact, he already seems to understand that there's something very special about Jesus, for he says to him, "No one can do these things you do apart from the presence of God."

For his part, Jesus recognizes, right from the start, that Nicodemus is seeking more, that he is open to new truth, new life, and a new way. Jesus' reply takes Nicodemus seriously, and then challenges him to go a bit farther along his journey of faith. He says, "Nicodemus, in order for you to understand what these signs mean and see that I am revealing the kingdom of God, you will need to be born from above. Born anew. Born of the Spirit."

Jesus' hospitality receives Nicodemus as a pilgrim, a sincere religious seeker, welcoming him and his searching mind. Jesus seems immediately to sense that this learned Pharisee, a member of the religious establishment, is responding to something in Jesus' teaching. He seems to know that Nicodemus is willing to risk leaving behind the truth, as he had known it, in order to explore something new. Jesus invites him into a new realm of insight, taking Nicodemus seriously, while pushing him far beyond his comfort zone. Recognizing him to be a spiritual pilgrim starting down a path whose end he could not see, Jesus seeks not to embarrass Nicodemus, nor condemn him, but to offer him, instead, the possibility of new life.

Paul later describes it this way: when you put on Christ, you become a new person in Christ. You're not the same old you. To start down this path that is the Way, you need a fundamental shift inside you. It's like being born again.

I like to imagine that all that fuss about who is or isn't born again has died down. I don't hear so much contention about it any more and that's good. It's really not important whether we're "born again" in one dramatic moment or whether it happens slowly, gradually, as we place ourselves in the hands of God and open ourselves more and more to the movement and life of God's spirit within us.

How it happens doesn't matter. But that it happens is crucial. In order to become part of this caravan of people, followers of the Way, something must change deep within us so that our eyes see and our ears hear and our hearts feel in the manner of Jesus Christ. Somewhere along the way, we each must be born anew, from above.

Have you ever wondered where the faith journey takes Nicodemus? What becomes of him? What being a new person in Christ has meant for his life? We don't know much, but he shows up again a few short years later, accompanying Joseph of Arimathea to the darkness of Jesus' tomb, offering his beloved teacher gifts of precious ointment, aloes, and myrrh. Still seeking, pursuing the path that begins for him in the darkness of the night and ends in the bright light of the Resurrection morning. And through it all, Nicodemus learns that new life in Christ Jesus contains its own share of suffering and pain, but never without the assurance of deliverance and new life on the other side.

Sometime this afternoon or during this coming week, I encourage you to spend some time in prayer and imagine yourself in the role of Nicodemus. What are the burning questions within you? What is gnawing on you enough to compel you to seek out Jesus?

And if he says to you, "You must be born again," what might that mean for you at this point in your life? What's holding you down or back? In what ways are you too comfortable? In what ways do you yearn to grow or to change? What is the new life that beckons you?

Remember the first blessing of Lent, which we found given to Jesus in the time of testing, was courage. The second blessing of Lent is the blessing of new life.

It comes when, like Abram, we heed the call of God in our lives and set out on paths new and unknown, when we make the journey our home. It comes when, like Nicodemus, we dare to seek after truth and follow wherever it may lead. It comes when we free ourselves up enough to let the Spirit blow through, trusting that the love of God will carry us forward.

Jesus said, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." May the blessing of courage empower us to become people of the Way, secure enough to set forth, following Jesus wherever he may lead. And may the truth and love and promise we find in him, who is the Way, become for us the blessing of life made ever new. Amen.

© Patricia E. Farris, 2002. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution. All other rights reserved.