Do not wonder that I said to thee, It is needful that *ye* should be born anew.
Nicodemus had just heard that flesh gives birth only to flesh. The Lord tells him not to be shocked — but why not, and how far does that "must" reach?
His answer reaches past any lesson about Israel's privileges. Older English caught something modern English cannot show: the Lord speaks to Nicodemus alone ("I said to thee"), but the demand itself is plural ("ye must be born again") — his whole nation is in view:
Now this was very new teaching for the Jews — God's chosen ones. But the time had come when they must learn the lesson that neither Jew nor Gentile can stand before the light of God. "Do not marvel that I said to you, you" (Jews) "must be born again." They were the children of the kingdom. But He goes to the root — not of teaching about God's ways with Israel, but of nature. People talk about God's image being restored in man. That is all completely false. A new creation, a divine nature, is the thing we need. On this common ground of nature Jew and Gentile both stood alike, and both must be born again.
This "must" follows from what flesh is. That gives it a reach no one escapes:
Here, then, lies the necessity of being born again: "That which is born of the flesh is flesh… Do not marvel that I said to you, 'You must be born again'" (John 3:6-7). This necessity is universal in its application. It concerns everyone born into this world. The dutiful, obedient child needs it as much as the son who ran off and wasted everything. The tireless giver to good causes needs it as much as the convict in his cell. For the flesh is flesh, and cannot enter the kingdom of God. So there must be a new nature and a new life. Without them, whatever a man's moral reputation, he will stay outside the kingdom of God for ever.
Nicodemus had the best background a man could have. That is what the Lord's demand overturns:
What is required is not just new behaviour or new principles of action, but a new birth. That means an entirely new origin. The origin and pedigree of Nicodemus was of the best, since he came of true Abrahamic stock. What is more, he had acquired all the culture the Jewish religion could give. If he, a cultured son of Abraham, needed a new birth, then it shows that all flesh, even Abrahamic flesh, is condemned before God. Because everyone needs new birth, the sentence of condemnation falls on us all.
No one can produce this new beginning for himself. One writer links it to the first day of creation:
In Genesis the Spirit of God moves, and in His sovereign power says, "Let there be light." In John we get, "You must be born again"… The ability to see is the ability to appreciate light. Eyes are no use without light. New birth is the spiritual eye for spiritual light. The Spirit of God is the sovereign Producer of this new birth.
One writer weighs the small word "You" at the front of the demand:
The first word of our text shows how pointed and personal our Lord was in His ministry — "YOU must be born again." This shows His faithful love. He did not offer dry doctrines or polished speeches to please listeners who only wanted something pleasant to hear. No. He was the Faithful Witness, and He came not to destroy, but to save.
The same words reach far past the man who first heard them:
This "must" cannot be set aside. It applies to the whole world: to the highest and the lowest, to noble and peasant, to prince and pauper, to old and young, rich and poor. The Lord Jesus says these words to one religious man, but they apply to every soul. Have you weighed them?
The chapter does not leave the demand hanging. A second "must" answers it:
Look at these two "musts," and put them together. "You must be born again." "The Son of Man must be lifted up." The "must" that flows from the heart of Christ in His grace meets the "must" of man in his need, divinely and fully. That grace led Him to the cross.
- Must, not may — the need rests on what flesh is. It covers the obedient child and the convict alike, and no reputation exempts anyone.
- Must for the best — Nicodemus had the finest pedigree and the fullest religious training. That is why his case condemns us all.
- Must means new — not better behaviour or new principles, but a whole new origin. The Spirit produces it, as sovereignly as God said, "Let there be light."
- Must means you — the Lord spoke it face to face, in faithful love. Yet it reaches prince and pauper, old and young, every soul that hears it.
- Must answered by must — Christ's "the Son of Man must be lifted up" answers man's "you must be born again." The demand and the supply meet at the cross.
The wind blows where it will, and thou hearest its voice, but knowest not whence it comes and where it goes thus is every one that is born of the Spirit.
Nicodemus has just heard that he must be born again, and he cannot see how this could happen to a grown man. Jesus answers with a picture from the open air. It says as much about what we cannot know as about what God does.
Long arguments about the new birth often start by missing one detail here:
A good deal of reasoning and controversy about the new birth might have been avoided if verse 8 had been carefully noted. The Greek word for "wind" and "Spirit" is the same. Like wind, the Spirit is invisible, and can only be grasped by hearing Him in the word He gives, or by feeling the effects of His working.
The same word lies behind the Old Testament term for spirit, and both come from a root meaning to breathe:
Here the thought is clearly of invisible activity beyond control; the effects are plain, but the power that produces them is unseen and uncontrollable.
Why wind and not some other image? One writer traces the choice to a child's riddle about the senses:
The Lord Jesus explained new birth by pointing to wind. For years I wondered why. Then my daughter, aged eight, came home from school and asked me, "What can you see in nature without hearing it?" I could not answer. She told me, "Fog, or mist." Then she asked, "What can you hear in nature without seeing it?" I answered, "Wind." I think this is why the Lord spoke of wind here. With a new birth you cannot see the process of being born, but you hear the cry of new life.
The final clause does not land where a reader expects:
Here the Lord seems to be making the closest comparison, and the word He uses is the very word used for the Spirit as well: "the wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes." The figure is one of invisibility, known by its effect. But there is more. The Lord adds, not what you would expect, "so is the Spirit," but "so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."
This is why no one can produce the new birth on demand:
Here we have the necessity of this new birth; but we learn further that this new birth is entirely of God. It is the sovereign action of the Spirit of God, likened to the wind, which does not blow at man's direction. We cannot say where the wind will come from or where it will blow. In the same way, the sovereign action of the Spirit cannot be confined to the Jew or to any particular individual. We cannot control the action of the Spirit; it is not for us to say where, or in whom, He can work.
Nicodemus belonged to the nation that held God's promises, and the word "everyone" in the verse quietly breaks his circle open:
If sovereign grace met that need, could it, would it, stop there? Certainly not. It would breathe the blessing as widely as sin has spread its ruin, according to the choice of God. … So "everyone" leaves room for any fallen man, a Gentile no less than a Jew. Whatever their differences by natural descent, the Spirit flows freely and can bless those who are furthest away. The nearest is nothing without Him.
Not knowing where the wind comes from is no reason to fall silent:
So we go on preaching the Word, and the Spirit keeps using it, although we may not know how or when He does so. The effect is clear when the gospel is believed.
The verse also sets a boundary around our arguments about how salvation works:
We need to note carefully our Lord's word in John 3:8, where He warns us that the Spirit's work in new birth is something beyond us. We can no more gather it all into our minds than we can gather the winds in our fists.
- Wind — one Greek word means both "wind" and "Spirit." The picture and the thing pictured share a name: unseen power, known by its effects.
- Heard — you cannot watch the wind or the new birth happen; you hear the sound, the cry of new life that proves it happened.
- Free — no one starts the wind, steers it, or stops it. The Spirit's work is no more under our control.
- Everyone — the sentence ends with the person born, not with the Spirit. "Everyone" leaves room for the outsider as much as the insider.
- Preach — we cannot trace the wind, so we keep sowing the word. The timing is the Spirit's, and the work itself is beyond us.
Nicodemus answered and said to him, How can these things be?
The Lord has just told Nicodemus that no one enters God's kingdom without being born again. His whole answer is one question — and it is the last thing he says in this conversation.
By this point Nicodemus is not arguing. He is out of his depth. One writer says the problem was not only the strangeness of a spiritual birth. It also broke everything he had been taught to expect as a Jew.
Nicodemus could see this much — perhaps not how it all fitted together, but that it lay completely outside everything he had known as a Jew. His mind was at a loss. "How can these things be?" The trouble was not only the spiritual character of these things. It was also the way they broke into Jewish feelings — the huge change needed before even a Jew could enter the kingdom.
Commentators read his tone in two ways. One hears the normal reaction of the human mind to the works of God:
"How can these things be?" is a very natural question when the human mind looks at the works and ways of God. It is, however, the question of unbelief, not of faith. Take the fall of Jericho's walls, Jonah's three days in the fish, our Lord's walking on the sea, or any other wonder. Nothing shakes the heart that has learned to trust God and believe His word.
Another writer hears something else in it. Here is a man who has given up his own standing, and that is where learning starts.
As Nicodemus answers, "How can these things be?" he seems to want light, if it is not already dawning on his soul. He is an anxious inquirer. It is a very happy thing when a man gives up all his learning and all his knowledge. He takes the place of nothingness at the Saviour's feet. That is what Nicodemus does here. Now he is going to learn. Have you ever asked that question yet?
The Lord's reply treats the question as one Nicodemus should have been able to answer himself. He was a teacher of Israel, and the material was in the prophets he taught from.
Nicodemus still marvels at truths so entirely contrary to his natural reason. He asks, "How can these things be?" The Lord suggests that, as a teacher, he should have known these things already. Had not the prophet Ezekiel spoken of the "water" and the "spirit" working in people, to cleanse them from their filthiness and give them a new heart (Ezekiel 36:25-27)?
Ezekiel had said: "I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean" and "I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you." Water, Spirit and a new heart were joined together long before that night.
There is more in the Lord's reply. A man who believes God should expect to meet things above his own sight.
Nicodemus has no argument. He is puzzled, and asks, "How can these things be?" But if he believes God, should he not expect things higher than man's observation?
One writer draws the comparison with the natural world we live in:
There are many things in nature we cannot explain, but we have to accept them. Take the mystery of natural life. Is it any wonder that there are mysteries in the spiritual world too? We cannot explain them, but we gladly accept them on the testimony of God's word. Let us not drag things down to the level of our own understanding. Let us humbly accept the testimony of Scripture.
After this verse Nicodemus says nothing more. His last question clears the way for the Lord to speak about Himself.
Never before had Nicodemus met anyone who spoke to him as the Lord now spoke. The Lord's statements were so definite and His explanations so clear that Nicodemus had no reply left but to ask, "How can these things be?" Was he not now coming to a teachable frame of mind? Certainly he was to learn in whose presence he was. The One to whom he had come under cover of night was speaking of what He knew, and testifying of what He had seen.
- Puzzled. Nicodemus is not arguing. His mind is at a loss, because the new birth broke through everything he had been trained to expect.
- Question. Commentators differ on his tone. One hears unbelief, not faith. Another hears a seeker who is at last ready to learn.
- Prophets. A teacher of Israel should have known this already. Ezekiel had spoken of water, Spirit and a new heart long before.
- Proportion. A man who believes God should expect truths above his own observation. We cannot explain the mystery of natural life, yet we accept it.
- Person. Once his questions stop, the subject moves from the new birth to the One speaking — the One who tells what He knows and has seen.
Jesus answered and said to him, Thou art the teacher of Israel and knowest not these things!
Nicodemus came to Jesus with a compliment about His teaching. He soon found himself taught something he could not follow. The Lord's reply turns the tables. Israel's own teacher does not know the first thing about entering God's kingdom.
The wording puts all the weight on one word: teacher. It sets the teacher against the learner.
"The teacher" (John 3:10) simply means "teacher" as opposed to "student." Putting the emphasis there, we should say, "Are you the teacher of Israel, and yet do not know that?" Such a contrast always leaves out any other people who teach, or gathers them all into one.
The rebuke only stings if he could have known. One writer points to two things in Ezekiel that Nicodemus had every reason to have read.
An intelligent Israelite ought to have known something about the new birth. The plain statement of Ezekiel, "And I will give you a new heart," should have been enough to teach the ruler this. The prophet's vision of the dry bones coming back to life should have shown him that God is the One who gives life to the dead. So our Lord exposes still further the ignorance of this "man of the Pharisees."
The same rebuke settles an argument about the water the Lord had just spoken of.
Christian baptism did not begin, and the facts it pictures did not happen, until the Lord died and rose. How then could Nicodemus know them in advance, or understand the Lord's answer to his difficulty about being born again? Yet the Lord reproaches him as "the teacher of Israel" for being slow to understand. That is, he should have known these things simply as a teacher of Jews. He could not have known them at all if the Lord meant a Christian practice not yet revealed.
Nicodemus holds three religious titles. None of them counts for anything here.
In His reply the Lord ignores, or makes nothing of, his professional standing. Ruler of the Jews, doctor of law or teacher of Israel, and man of the Pharisees, were only religious names and titles, valued by a lifeless orthodoxy. Jesus cuts through the layers of profession and finds at the bottom only a man. As such, he can no more enter the kingdom of God than Adam could win back paradise, after God's judgment shut him out.
The Lord's rebuke leads straight on. Nicodemus had failed the lower lesson, the earthly one.
How! says He, you a teacher in Israel! You ought to understand that Israel must have a new and purified heart to enjoy the promises. How is it that you do not know these things? If you will not take in My words — that you must be born of water and of the Spirit — and do not understand these earthly things, how can anyone expect you to believe about heavenly things?
The question hits one man. It measures the whole nation he stands for.
Are you the teacher of Israel, and do not know the very principle on which Israel is let into the kingdom? We may add that the question does more than set Nicodemus on right thoughts. It expresses our Lord's feelings about the state of the people: how shall I deal with them? What will be the result for them if the teacher of Israel does not know the first principles?
The rebuke is firm, but it is not harsh. One writer notes the tone:
The Lord rebukes, though with all tenderness, both his ignorance (v. 10) and his unbelief (vv. 11, 12).
- Title. "The teacher" is emphatic — the one man in Israel whose job was to know, set against the pupil he has now become.
- Text. This was no hidden mystery. The water and the new heart already stood written in his own prophets.
- Standing. Ruler, Pharisee, teacher — the Lord looks past all three and finds simply a man who cannot enter the kingdom.
- Ladder. He stumbled on the earthly step. The heavenly things above it stayed out of reach.
- Nation. One teacher's ignorance measures a whole people's. Yet the Lord exposes it gently, and opens a fuller answer instead of ending the talk.
Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that which we know, and we bear witness of that which we have seen, and ye receive not our witness.
Nicodemus had opened the conversation with a confident "we know." Now the Lord answers with a "we" of His own, and two hard questions follow: who does that "we" include, and how could anyone turn such a witness down?
The words "we speak of what we know" claim something no prophet ever claimed. One commentator draws out the force of the verb:
He speaks as One who is at home with God. He did not simply act for God; He spoke with God's authority, perfectly at home with Him. "We speak of what we know," He says, and the word implies intimate knowledge, personal knowledge that is His own. It is not knowledge given to Him, which a prophet might pass on once God had shown it to him. It is the knowledge of One who knew God and His glory consciously.
Commentators differ over the plural. The same writer sets out the options side by side rather than settling it:
The Lord takes up the "we know" of Nicodemus. "We" here seems to be Christ speaking of Himself, as in Mark 4:30. Theophylact took it that way long ago, and Ryle and McRory among more recent writers. If it means John the Baptist as well as Himself, it points back to the law's rule that two witnesses were needed. Luthardt, Godet and Westcott understand it of the disciples, whom the Lord joins with Himself.
Another writer hears the plural as the voice of God Himself, and notices who the "you" turns out to be:
It is the knowledge and language of deity: the Father in the Son speaking by the Holy Spirit. The leaders of the nation refused this divine testimony: "you do not receive our testimony." Yet Nicodemus evidently did receive it, even though he was "one of themselves" (see John 7:50; 19:39).
Nicodemus taught Israel, yet the Lord answers him as the One who has seen. He has seen the human heart and the heart of God alike:
Nicodemus and the leaders of Israel took the place of teachers, yet they did not know their own Scriptures. In contrast, the Lord spoke of truths He knew perfectly, and testified of things He had seen. He knows what is in man (John 2:25), and He also knows all that is in the heart of God. He knows how great our need is, and He knows how great God's grace is to meet that need.
The Lord never answers Nicodemus's "how." He moves past it:
The Lord did not win Nicodemus, and turning away from the "how" He states the certainty resting on His own testimony from God: "We speak of what we know." But it is not Nicodemus individually who is now in His thoughts — it is they: "You do not receive."
We can fairly question what any person tells us, because anyone's knowledge has limits. Rejecting this witness is a different matter:
We may well question the testimony of men, knowing it is only as good as their limited knowledge. But here One testifies who has perfect knowledge. When people reject that testimony, it proves how hopeless man's case is when left to himself.
The problem was never a shortage of evidence. One writer turns the verse on the reader:
Man does not care to believe God. You often hear people say, "I cannot believe." You cannot believe whom? Pick up a newspaper, read of some terrible crime or accident, and you believe every word of it. Pick up a railway timetable to plan a journey, and you trust it completely. But take up God's Word. It tells you that you are a lost sinner, and that God in love gave His Son for you. And you say, "I cannot believe it." Yours is a downright bad case. You cannot believe the God of truth! You can believe a man like yourself, but you say you cannot believe the living God. What an insight this gives us into man's heart!
- Known. The verb behind "we know" means personal, first-hand knowledge. It is not truth handed to a prophet to pass on. It is the knowledge of One at home with God.
- Seen. He testifies to what He has seen. He has seen what is in man, and what is in God's heart: the size of our need, and the size of the grace that meets it.
- Spoken. Commentators differ on the "we." Some read it as Christ alone. Others add John the Baptist, under the rule that two witnesses were needed, or the disciples. Others hear the Father speaking in the Son by the Spirit.
- Refused. The "you" widens past Nicodemus to the nation's leaders. The Lord drops the "how" question and states the certainty they were rejecting.
- Exposed. Rejecting a witness of perfect knowledge shows what man is when left to himself. He believes a newspaper without hesitation, yet says he cannot believe the God of truth. Nicodemus, though, did receive that witness.
If I have said the earthly things to you, and ye believe not, how, if I say the heavenly things to you, will ye believe?
Nicodemus came to Jesus as a respected teacher of Israel, yet he could not follow what he heard. Here the Lord separates two levels of truth — one his own Scriptures already held, one nobody had yet heard — and He names the real barrier: unbelief.
The phrase does not mean crude or material things. It means the part of God's kingdom that belongs to this earth.
The meaning of "earthly things" as contrasted with "heavenly things" in John 3:12 is not difficult. God's kingdom includes both. The Old Testament mainly opens up the earthly side. The New Testament dwells almost entirely on the heavenly side. The Lord teaches here that a Jew must be born again even to enjoy the earthly things of that kingdom. Compare Ezekiel 36:25-38. Nicodemus, a teacher of Israel, ought to have known this from it. Even Israel, as a nation, must be born again before they can have their earthly blessings in the coming thousand-year kingdom. If they did not believe this, it was pointless to speak of the higher part of God's kingdom.
The word marks a place, not a moral quality:
God's earthly things were not evil or sinful things. They were the promised earthly portion the Jews were to look for. In that coming day they must be sprinkled with water and receive a new heart from the Spirit before they can inherit. This Nicodemus should have known.
The earthly side was old news. The heavenly side was not, and one writer spells out what Nicodemus was missing:
How! says He, you a teacher in Israel! You ought to understand that Israel must have a new and purified heart to enjoy the promises. How is it that you do not know these things? If you will not take in My words — that you must be born of water and of the Spirit — and you do not understand these earthly things, how can anyone expect you to believe about heavenly things? … How will you grasp the glory of Christ exalted in heaven, and the church, His companion, in that heavenly glory?
The heavenly blessing is also wider than the nation Nicodemus taught:
Then there are the heavenly things, which are better. There is the sovereign acting of His grace. He will take any poor sinners of the Gentiles, as well as the Jews, and bring them into the blessing He has to give.
The two subjects differ in more than height. Anyone could test a claim about earth; only one Person could report on heaven.
Israel did not receive His witness, even when He spoke of things on earth, where they could test what He said in many ways. In this way new birth was well within their knowledge. The work of the Spirit in people had a voice, if they could hear it, and the prophets had also borne witness to it. Now if still they did not believe, how would they believe if He spoke of heavenly things? Of a realm where they would have no witness but His own? His own witness must stand alone.
Nicodemus and his fellow teachers held the Scriptures in their hands. Their failure had a deeper cause than missing information.
The leaders of Israel did not understand what their own Scriptures taught. The reason was simple: they had no real faith in God. How then, without faith, could they receive the "heavenly things" the Son of God had come to make known?
Whichever level of blessing is in view, the same starting point stands. The heavenly things do not replace new birth; they rest on it.
Nicodemus should have learned from passages such as Ezekiel 36:25-28 and Jeremiah 31:33 that new birth was necessary for Israel to have part in God's kingdom. Later in John 3 come the heavenly things of Christianity — the fruit of the cross, and the love of God. But there must be new birth as the foundation in man, whatever the blessing offered.
- Two departments. God's kingdom has an earthly side and a heavenly side. The Old Testament opens the first. The New Testament opens the second.
- Earthly first. Even Israel's promised blessing on earth needed new birth. Ezekiel and Jeremiah had written it down, so a teacher of Israel had no excuse.
- Heavenly next. Above that lay truth no one had heard: Christ glorified in heaven, the church joined with Him there, and grace reaching Gentiles as well as Jews.
- One witness. People could test earthly claims in many ways. For heaven there was no other reporter than the One speaking.
- One door. Unbelief blocked the higher truth, not any lack of clarity. New birth stays the foundation for every blessing God offers, on earth or in heaven.
And no one has gone up into heaven, save he who came down out of heaven, the Son of man who is in heaven.
Nicodemus taught Israel, yet he had just stumbled over an earthly thing — the new birth. So the Lord raises a harder question: who can speak about heaven at all?
Heavenly things need a witness who has been there. No traveller had gone up and come back with a report — and the title that fits the One who can speak is not Messiah.
Nicodemus did not understand these earthly things of Israel's blessing. How then would he understand if the Lord spoke to him of heavenly things? No one had gone up to heaven, so no one could bring word of what was there, or of what was needed to enjoy it. No one, that is, except He who had come down from there. He spoke of what He knew, and bore witness to what He had seen. Not the Messiah — that title had to do with the earth — but the Son of man, who, as to His divine nature, was in heaven.
Scripture does record men reaching heaven. The difference here is not arrival, but right.
Two men, Enoch and Elijah, were taken up to heaven; they did not ascend in their own right and title. But Jesus, the Son of Man, belonged to heaven; it was His home. He came down from heaven, and He had the right to leave heaven because of who He was. No angel could come down from heaven by his own choice. To do so would be to leave the place first given him. Some angels did leave it, and they are kept in everlasting chains, waiting for the judgment of the great day.
So the claim is about witness. Nicodemus had no one else to check the report against:
It was plain that there was no one. He is speaking only of witness that men can reach — not of Enoch or Elijah or the spirits of the dead. No one had gone up to heaven to give any confirmation. His own witness must stand alone.
He says this while standing on earth, speaking to a man in a room at night. The phrase is not a slip; it is the clearest window in the chapter into who He is.
The divine-human Person comes out distinctly here, the One always in heaven, though a man on earth: of no created being could such a thing be said.
Taking a body did not shrink what He is. Commentators read the words as a plain claim to be everywhere at once:
Indeed, at that very moment when He was speaking on earth He was "the Son of man which is in heaven." He is God and as such He is present everywhere at the same time. The incarnation did not change this.
William Kelly puts it in terms of right of entry:
Nobody had gone up to heaven. God had taken more than one there, but no one had gone as of right. Jesus not only could go up, as He did later; He had also come down from there. Though man, He was the Son of man who is in heaven. He is a divine person, and His manhood brought no loss to His rights as God. Heavenly things, therefore, had to be natural to Him.
This is what shapes the whole Gospel of John:
These are the wonderful truths of the Gospel of John. Here we have the words of One from heaven, telling people on this earth what heaven is and what is in heaven. One came to this earth to give eternal life to men. He came to die for sinners on the cross of Calvary, so that there should be no judgment for them. But He came for more: to reveal to them what was in the heart of God, and what their portion was in heaven if they accepted Him.
The next verse turns from coming down to being lifted up. A new nature alone leaves man's guilt unanswered.
If God's nature was revealed, and man's sharing in it meant that he had to do with God, then there must be atonement as well as a new birth. The Son of man took up man's cause. As man He was to hold the inheritance of all things in man's nature. He must be lifted up, like the serpent in the wilderness, made sin for us, so that men might look on Him and live.
- Descent: No one climbed up to bring back news of heaven; the news came down, in a Person.
- Right: Enoch and Elijah were taken up; He came down — heaven was His home, and He left it by His own right.
- Person: He is God, present everywhere at once. So He could stand on earth and still be the Son of man in heaven, and His manhood cost Him nothing of His rights as God.
- Witness: No other voice could confirm Him, so His testimony stands alone. Heavenly things are natural to Him, not learned.
- Cross: The One who came down must be lifted up; a new nature meets what man lacks, atonement meets what man owes.
And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, thus must the Son of man be lifted up,
Jesus answers Nicodemus by pointing back to a strange scene from Israel's desert journey. He tells him that this scene pictures what must happen to Him, and that "must" carries the whole verse.
The story is in Numbers 21, and one writer applies it straight to the reader.
The sons of Jacob were dying in the desert from the poisonous bite of the snakes, just as you are from the bite of sin. A bronze snake was made and lifted up on a pole, and when one who was bitten looked at the snake he lived (Numbers 21:6-9). In the lifted-up Son of Man you have what the bronze snake pictured in advance. Now you look to Christ. On that cross He was bearing the judgment of all who believe on Him.
Earlier in the conversation Jesus said a man must be born again. Here He adds a second necessity, and the two belong together.
A second Man has entered the scene. There are two men and two musts. As to the first man, he must be born again, and as to the second Man, He must be lifted up. In a word, the cross is the great solution of the difficulty, the divine answer to the "How?" ... Why must He? Because I must have new life, and this life is in the Son, but it could only be mine through His death.
God's own nature, not only man's need, made the cross necessary.
The new birth is needed for the kingdom of God, and the cross is just as necessary for eternal life... Man's state was such that it would have been beneath God to give that life without the cross of Christ. The Son of Man was lifted up on that cross, and in Him God dealt with man's evil state in judgment... It might suit man, but it would not suit God, to see everything, pronounce man corrupt, and then let him off with a bare pardon.
The picture puts Christ beside the very thing that poisoned Israel. The bronze snake was a likeness of the killer, not the killer itself.
The bronze snake was in the likeness of the fiery snake that bit the people. The Lord Jesus was in the likeness of sinful flesh. He was not sinful flesh, or He could not have been our Saviour. Not only is sin atoned for, but sin in the flesh has been condemned in the death of our Lord Jesus Christ. Not only is the fruit (sins) dealt with, but also the root (the sinful nature). Sins are forgiven. The sinful nature is not forgiven. That could never be. The only thing that will do for sin in the flesh is DEATH.
That very strangeness is where the light comes from.
How good it is that we have an authoritative explanation of something whose obscurity comes from this strange placing of Christ beside the snake. But the cross is indeed the obscurity that lights up everything — the contradiction by which all other things are reconciled.
The phrase is not about honour. It names one particular death and what that death said about Him.
The law of Moses did not use hanging, or crucifixion, as a way of putting someone to death. The Jews used the same word for both. It came after death, to express unusual wickedness and to put a special brand on the one so treated. As a "lifting up from the earth" (John 3:14; John 12:32), it expressed rejection from among men. As a lifting up toward heaven, it might well call for heaven's agreement with that rejection, and so imply the "curse of God" on the sinner.
The title Jesus uses here reaches past one nation.
To Nicodemus He testifies that the Son of Man must be lifted up. This is not for the sake of Israel only, but so that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life. The title Son of Man carries with it universal power and blessing.
The bitten Israelite shows where to look — and where not to look.
The wounded Israelite had simply to look and live. He was to look, not at himself, not at his wounds, not at others around him, but directly and only to God's remedy... The bitten Israelite was shut up to the bronze snake, God's only remedy for him. To look anywhere else was to get nothing; to look at God's provision was to get life.
- Bitten. The starting point is not weakness but poison. Israel was dying from the snake's bite, and every sinner is dying from the bite of sin.
- Must. Two necessities meet at this verse: man must be born again, and the Son of Man must be lifted up. The second is God's answer to the first.
- Likeness. Christ came in the likeness of sinful flesh, but He was not sinful flesh. So the cross deals with the root, the sinful nature, and not only with the fruit.
- Lifted. "Lifted up" names crucifixion, not honour: it expressed rejection from among men and implied the curse of God.
- Look. Life came by looking away from self to God's one remedy. Believing in the lifted-up Son of Man works the same way, and eternal life is for whoever believes.