Prepare 

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in Matthew 21:1-11 marks the beginning of Holy Week. The scene feels celebratory, but it’s actually layered with tension. Jesus enters the city not on a war horse nor in a display of political power, but on a donkey. In doing so, he fulfills the prophecy from Zechariah 9:9. This signals a different kind of kingship: one rooted in humility and solidarity with ordinary people. 

As Jesus enters, the crowds respond with enthusiasm. They spread cloaks on the road, wave branches, and shout “Hosanna,” which means “save us.” This is both praise and protest, a cry for deliverance. Many in the crowds likely expected Jesus to overthrow Roman rule and restore political power to Israel. Their understanding of “salvation” was shaped by their lived oppression. 

Yet, the kind of salvation Jesus brings does not align with their expectations. His path doesn’t lead to a throne of dominance, but to the cross; and the same crowds that shout “Hosanna” will, within days, fall silent or turn away. 

This passage invites us to consider how we recognize, or fail to recognize, God at work. It challenges assumptions about power, leadership, and what it means to be saved. It also raises an important question for today: What kind of change are we hoping for, and are we open to it if it looks different than we imagined? 

Opening Exercise 

Watch this video about a community organization in Minneapolis called Singing Resistance. 

As you watch, pay attention to what you hear in their voices. 

• What are they carrying? 
• What are they hoping for?

After the video, ask: 

• What emotions did you notice? 
• What do you think they are longing for or crying out for? 
• Where do you hear something like “Hosanna” in this?

Transition to the text: In Matthew 21, the crowd is also crying out, but the word they use is ‘Hosanna,’ literally: save us. 

Text Read Aloud 

Matthew 21:1–11 

Hosanna: When Salvation Looks Different

It looks like a parade. 

There’s movement, noise, energy. People are lining the road, waving branches, shouting. Cloaks are thrown down like a makeshift red carpet. The crowd is caught up in the moment. 

“Hosanna!” they cry.
“Save us!” 

This is what hope looks like when it spills out into the street.
But look closer.
Jesus isn’t riding in like the kind of king they know. There’s no armor, no horse, no show of force. He comes on a donkey, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. 

And still, they cheer.
They cheer because they believe this, this will change everything. 

The crowd has expectations. They are living under occupation. They are tired, burdened, longing for freedom. And here comes Jesus: healer, teacher, miracle-worker. Surely, this is the one who will fix it. Surely, this is the one who will take power, restore order, and make things right. 

But unbeknownst to them, Jesus is not entering Jerusalem to take power. He is entering to give himself away.
That’s the tension of this story. 

The same voices shouting “Hosanna!” are filled with hope. But, it’s a hope shaped by their understanding of how the world works. Power defeats power. Strength overcomes strength. Kings conquer. But Jesus redefines all of it. 

He comes in humility and vulnerability.
He comes in peace. 

And the kind of salvation Jesus brings won’t look like what they imagined. That’s what makes this story so close to us. 

We also carry expectations. We pray for change, for healing, for justice, for things to be made right. And often, we imagine what that should look like. We imagine how God should act, how quickly things should shift, how clearly victory should appear. 

Hosanna: When Salvation Looks Different

But what if God is already moving, and it just doesn’t look like what we expected? 

What if salvation doesn’t come through domination?
What if salvation doesn’t come through force?
What if salvation doesn’t come through winning?
Instead, it breaks in through love that refuses to let go, through relentless presence, or through a commitment to wading through trenches together. 

The crowd saw Jesus.
But they didn’t fully SEE Jesus. 

And maybe that’s where we begin too.
Learning to see again.
Learning to let go of the version of God we’ve constructed.
Learning to recognize that sometimes the most powerful thing God does… is easy to overlook. 

Hosanna still means “save us.”
The question is: are we ready for the kind of saving that actually comes? 

Reflection Questions 

1. What stands out to you about how Jesus enters Jerusalem in this story? What are the people doing, and how are they responding? 
2. Why do you think the crowd expected something different from Jesus? What does this tell us about how people understand power or leadership?
3. What does Jesus’ choice to ride a donkey (instead of a horse) say about the kind of king he is? 
4. Where in your life might you be expecting God to act in a certain way? What would it look like to be open to something different?

Closing Activity 

Hand out a small piece of paper to each person and invite them to write one word or short phrase they would shout “Hosanna” about. What do they need saving from or for right now? 

When they’re ready, invite them to fold their paper, holding their words with care and privacy, and place it on an altar or in another shared sacred space. 

From there, you have a couple of options depending on the trust and comfort level of your group. You may choose to read some of the prayers aloud, being mindful to protect what feels tender or personal. After each one, the group can respond together: “God, hear our cry.” 

Or, if it feels more appropriate, you can offer a few collective petitions shaped by what surfaced in your conversation, again inviting the group to respond: “God, hear our cry.” 

Final Prayer

Jesus,
you come to us in ways we don’t always expect.
You meet us in humility and presence.
Help us to see you clearly.
Help us to let go of what we think salvation should look like.
And open us to the kind of love that changes everything.
Hosanna.
Save us.
Amen. 

Bio of Author 

Emily Harkins is the Lead Pastor and Founding Developer of The Dwelling in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a community rooted in belonging, dignity, and shared life alongside neighbors experiencing homelessness. She is passionate about justice, advocacy, and building spaces where people are fully seen and known. Emily is a Colorado native turned Southern Belle who loves Diet Coke, good stationery, and using “y’all” as often as possible.

Prepare

In Ezekiel 36The prophet Ezekiel stands in a valley filled with dry bones. Not just bones—very dry bones. The scene feels final. Hopeless. Beyond repair. Then God asks a startling question: “Mortal, can these bones live?”

In John 11, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days. The community has accepted the ending. Grief has settled in. When Jesus arrives, he does not immediately fix the situation. First, he weeps. Then he calls Lazarus out of the tomb.

Both stories begin with what seems irreversible. Death. Loss. Finality. But God’s Spirit moves where life seems impossible.

Romans 8 reminds us that the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is still at work. Resurrection is not only something we wait for someday. It is something God is doing even now—bringing life where the world expects only death.

When violence fills the news and war dominates the headlines, it can feel like we are standing in a valley of dry bones. God’s question to Ezekiel is still worth asking today: Can these bones live?

Opening Exercise

In the past week, have you seen or heard news about war or conflict somewhere in the world?

• Where did you hear about it? (News, social media, school conversations, family discussions.)
• How did it make you feel: confused? sad? angry? powerless?
• Where have you seen someone choose peace instead of conflict?
  • It might be something small—a friend standing up for someone being bullied, someone apologizing after an argument, or people from different backgrounds working together.

Transition to the texts: In today’s readings, God brings life to dry bones and calls someone out of a tomb. These stories remind us that even when the world feels broken, new life is still possible.

Text Read Aloud

Appoint one person per reading.

• Ezekiel 37:1–5, 9–10
• Romans 8:10–11
• John 11:32–35, 38–44

Can These Bones Live?

In Ezekiel’s vision, God asks a haunting question while standing in a valley of dry bones: “Mortal, can

these bones live?” It is a question that echoes whenever the world feels overwhelmed by violence.

Recent news about war in Iran has raised fear and concern across the globe. Images of conflict spread quickly through television and social media. For many of us—young, old, and somewhere in the middle—these stories can feel overwhelming. When the world seems filled with violence, it is natural to wonder: Where does peace fit into all of this?

The Christian story speaks directly into that question.

In Ezekiel’s vision, the bones represent a people who believe their future is gone. Yet God breathes life into what appears lifeless. Bones gather. Breath enters. A community stands again.

The same pattern appears in John 11. Lazarus has died. Grief fills the air. Jesus does not deny the pain—he weeps. But the story does not end there. Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb. Life returns where death seemed certain.

Peace often begins in moments like this—when people refuse to believe that violence or division must have the final word. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice.” (See transcription of that sermon, here.)

In a recent statement responding to the war in Iran, ELCA Presiding Bishop Yehiel Curry urged Christians to pray for those suffering and to continue seeking a just peace that protects human life and dignity. (Click here to read Bp. Curry’s statement. Also see the ELCA’s Social Statement on Peace here.)

For followers of Jesus, peace is not passive. It is the courageous work of building relationships, pursuing justice, and refusing to let fear define how we see one another. Sometimes that work begins with friendship.

Ezekiel 37 dry bones meaning

When I served as a pastor in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, I became friends with members of the Murfreesboro Muslim Youth. I also developed a close friendship with the imam of the local mosque, Imam Ossama Bahloul. These relationships opened my eyes to the depth of Muslim faith, helping me see my Muslim neighbors not as strangers, but as faithful contributors to our community. These friendships changed the way I saw my neighbors and deepened my understanding of how faith can bring people together for the good of a community.

In a world that often feels like a valley of dry bones, friendship can be one way God begins to breathe life again.

Together, we shared meals, gathered for picnics in the park, and worked side by side to feed first responders on Thanksgiving Day. When tensions rose in our community, we stood together in peaceful demonstrations: speaking out against travel bans and resisting efforts by white supremacist groups to recruit followers in our town. Through these experiences, I discovered that peace often begins with small, courageous steps: listening, learning, and refusing to treat others as enemies.

Romans 8 reminds us that the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead lives within us. That means resurrection is not only a future promise. It is a present calling.

When young people build friendships across differences, speak up for justice, and treat others with compassion, they participate in God’s work of breathing life into places that feel divided or broken.

Ezekiel 37 dry bones meaning

The valley of dry bones may still surround us. But God’s Spirit is still breathing life into the world—often through ordinary people who choose the work of peace. The question God asked Ezekiel still echoes today: Can these bones live? And how might God’s Spirit breathe life through us?

Reflection Questions

• Why do you think Jesus weeps before raising Lazarus? What does that tell us about how God meets people in suffering?
• Where do you see “dry bones”, places that feel hopeless or broken, in the world today?
• How can building relationships across differences be a form of peacemaking?
• What is one way you could practice peace in your school, friendships, or community this week?

Closing Activity: One Act of Resurrection

Peace can feel like a big idea when we talk about war or global conflict. But peacemaking often begins with small choices.

Ask each participant to think of one situation in their daily life where they could bring peace or justice. Examples might include:

• Welcoming someone who feels excluded
• Standing up when someone is mocked or bullied
• Listening to someone with a different background or opinion
• Refusing to spread rumors or hateful comments online
• Learning about another culture or faith tradition

Invite each person to write down one action they will take this week.

Then say:

• In Ezekiel’s vision, God breathes life into dry bones. In John’s Gospel, Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb. Sometimes resurrection begins with a single step toward compassion, courage, or reconciliation.

Ask participants to hold their paper and silently offer that action to God.

Prayer

God of life and hope,

When the world feels filled with conflict, remind us that your Spirit still moves among us. Where there is fear, breathe courage.bWhere there is division, plant understanding. Where there is violence, raise up people who seek peace.

Help us follow Jesus, who wept with the grieving and called new life out of the tomb.

Teach us to build bridges, seek justice, and trust that your Spirit is still breathing life into this world.

Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Bio

Rev. Michael Jannett serves as the pastor of Community of Grace Lutheran Church in Grayson, Georgia, and has 25 years of experience in youth ministry. Michael is definitely a Disney nerd, an actual nerd (with a Computer Science degree from Georgia Tech), and will eat all of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in your house. He is a husband, father of three, and a lover of football and playing guitar.

Ezekiel 37 dry bones meaning

Prepare

Samuel thinks he knows what a king should look like: strong, tall, impressive. Yet, God challenges him on this notion, declaring, “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” This same theme of seeing beyond appearances in John 9 emerges when Jesus heals a man born blind and invites everyone present to reconsider what true sight really means.

What should be a moment of joy becomes a debate. The disciples assume someone must have sinned. The neighbors doubt what they see. The religious leaders question the miracle itself. Everyone believes they understand the situation; however, Jesus suggests they may be the ones who cannot see.

Blindness in this Gospel is not just physical. It is spiritual; certainty that closes off curiosity, and assumption that prevents compassion.

Lent invites us to examine our own vision. Where might we be confident in what we see — yet missing something deeper? What assumptions do we hold that shape how we view others? What would it mean to let Christ reshape the way we see?

Opening Exercise

Tell of a time you formed a quick opinion about someone but later realized you were wrong.

• What changed your perspective?
• Why do we tend to make snap judgments?
• In what ways are people judged by appearance today? (Clothing, social media, background, politics, ability, reputation.)
  • Transition to the text: In today’s Gospel, many people think they see clearly — but Jesus reveals something deeper.

Text Read Aloud

1 Samuel 16:6–7, 11–13;

John 9:1–7, 24–25, 39–41

Remembering Rev. Jesse Jackson: Seeing the Whole Story

When news spread of the death of Rev. Jesse L. Jackson, Sr., people across the country began sharing memories. Political leaders, clergy, activists, and community members reflected on his decades of advocacy and his call to “keep hope alive.” Many lifted up his work for voting rights, economic justice, and human dignity. Others remembered moments of controversy or disagreement. As often happens when a public figure dies, stories surfaced: some celebratory, some critical, many complicated.

Public leaders rarely remain just people. Over time, they become symbols. Headlines reduce long lives into a few defining moments. Social media compresses decades into a sentence or a meme. It becomes easy to see only one angle of a life.

But every human story is more than a headline.

Rev. Jackson was shaped by the Black church and the civil rights movement. He preached before he organized. He marched before he ran for office. His faith fueled his public life. Like any leader who speaks boldly about justice, he experienced both admiration and criticism. His life, like all lives, held courage and imperfection, conviction and growth.

Moments of remembrance invite us to pause and ask: What do we choose to see when we look at someone’s life? Do we focus only on the moment that confirms what we already believe? Do we allow space for complexity? Or do we prefer a simpler version?

–

In John 9, a man’s healing should have been simple good news. Instead, it becomes interrogation. People question the man, his parents, and even Jesus. Everyone seems certain about what they are seeing. Yet, they miss the deeper truth unfolding before them.

The irony is sharp. The man who once could not see begins to recognize who Jesus is. Those who claim spiritual clarity refuse to see at all.

Blindness in this story is not about eyesight. It is about assumption. It is about protecting our version of the story rather than remaining open to transformation.

When we remember leaders like Rev. Jackson, we are invited into that same self-examination. It is easy to reduce a life to a headline or a meme. It is harder to hold a whole story with humility.

In 1 Samuel, we are reminded that “the Lord does not see as mortals see.” God looks deeper — into motives, into wounds, into growth, into the long arc of a life.

To live as “children of light,” as Ephesians says, is not simply to shine. It is to see clearly. It is to allow Christ to challenge our assumptions and widen our vision.

The miracle in John 9 is not only that a man gains sight. The greater invitation is that we might, too.

Reflection Questions

• Who do you identify with most in this story and why?
• In John 9 who do you think is blind? 
• What shapes how you see public figures or leaders? How do media and culture influence your view?
• Where do you see spiritual blindness today?
• What might it look like to see others the way God sees them?
• Where in your life are you asking Christ for clearer vision?

Closing Activity: If God Made the Meme

In the article, we noticed how lives can be reduced to headlines — even memes. Memes are quick and shareable, but they simplify something complex into one image and one caption. Sometimes we do the same thing with people.

For this activity, imagine God creating a meme about you.

• Not your friends.
• Not social media.
• Not your worst day.

God.

If God were the author — looking at your whole story — what would the caption say?
Remember: God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16). God sees the full story, not just a single moment. God sees courage forming, kindness growing, gifts emerging.

Create a simple meme on paper or your phone. Draw a quick image or write a caption.

Examples:

• “Still growing. Still loved.”
• “Braver than you think.”
• “Work in progress. Masterpiece in motion.”
• “Light shining, even on hard days.”
• “Beloved. No filter needed.”

Afterward, invite volunteers to share if they are comfortable. Ask:

• Was it hard or easy to imagine God speaking kindly about you?
• How is God’s view different from the world’s quick judgments?

Prayer

God of light,

You see what we cannot. When we reduce ourselves or others to simple labels, YOU see the whole story. Open our eyes. Clear our vision. Help us see others – and ourselves – through your mercy and truth. Teach us to live as children of your light. Through Jesus, the Light of the world. 

Amen.

Bio

Rev. Michael Jannett serves as pastor of Community of Grace Lutheran Church in Grayson, Georgia. He brings 25 years of experience in youth ministry and faith formation.

 Prepare 

In John 4:5–42, Jesus travels through Samaria and stops at Jacob’s well. The location is important because Jews and Samaritans shared ancestral roots, but had centuries of religious and ethnic conflict. They worshiped the same God but disagreed about the proper place of worship and the authority of certain Scriptures. Many Jews would have avoided traveling through Samaria altogether.

At the well, Jesus speaks with a Samaritan woman – crossing multiple social boundaries at once. In the first century, Jewish men did not typically initiate public conversation with women who were not family. Add to that the deep hostility between Jews and Samaritans, and this interaction becomes even more surprising.

The time of day is also significant. Wells were communal gathering places, usually visited during cooler hours. Her arrival at noon suggests isolation, though the text does not explicitly explain why. Be cautious not to speculate beyond what Scripture says, but notice how the detail invites reflection.

This passage contains one of the longest recorded conversations Jesus has with anyone in the Gospel of John. It moves from physical thirst to spiritual thirst, from personal history to communal worship, and finally to public witness. Jesus reveals knowledge of the woman’s life without condemning her, and she becomes the first person in John’s Gospel to openly share news about him with her community.

As you guide discussion, pay attention to themes of belonging, truth, vulnerability, and invitation. Where do participants see barriers being crossed? What changes in the woman between the beginning and the end of the story?

Opening Exercise 

You know your context best – so choose based on your students (and even the vibe of the day).

Either have students split into pairs or small groups OR give them something to write on to reflect independently. 

Reflection: 

• Think of a time you felt like you didn’t belong or had to hide parts of yourself. 
• How did that feel:
  • Physically
  • Emotionally
  • Spiritually
• What was your reaction afterwards? (Close off, isolate, snap-back, try harder)

After a few minutes, invite volunteers to share themes they noticed – or even just answer the questions: What did that feel like? What was your reaction?

• Connect this / Transition to today’s scripture: Today, we’re hearing a story of someone who may have felt out of place, but finds themselves fully seen by Christ – and what that teaches us about belonging. 

Text Read Aloud 

Read John 4:5-42

• Invite participants to listen for anything that stands out to them or instances of transformation.
• Since this is a longer passage, you may want to just read it through in full once. The article focuses on verses 5-26 and 39-42

Belonging 

There are parts of Jesus’ world that feel distant from ours. In 2026, most of us aren’t walking into a new town at noon, tired and thirsty, with no gas station or coffee shop in sight.

But Jesus does. 

Fully human, weary from travel, he sits beside a well in the heat of the day. And a woman approaches alone.

Wells were typically social spaces. Women gathered in the cooler hours of the morning or evening. Coming alone at midday suggests she wanted to (or was forced to) be alone. Maybe she is avoiding whispers, tired of explaining herself, or she simply doesn’t feel like she belongs with the others.

If we’re honest, that feeling isn’t foreign to any of us. 

We all thirst for belonging. We want to know we fit somewhere – not because we’ve performed well or curated the right image, but because we are wanted. And yet, so much of our world teaches us that belonging must be earned. 

• Be impressive and successful, build that college application.
• Be agreeable, yet have opinions, but not too strong.
• Be fun, but not too fun. 
• Be someone your friends love, and their parents approve of.

It can feel like constantly editing yourself – showing certain parts and hiding others – just to fit the mold of who you’re “supposed” to be.

–

Jesus begins by asking the woman for water. But then he offers her living water, the gift that satisfies more than just physical thirst. She wants this. In fact, don’t we all want something that will cure our desire to BE what we feel we have to be?

Then things turn personal. Jesus names her story: her relationships, her complicated past, the parts she might prefer to stay hidden. This would be the moment she expects rejection. When someone knows too much about us, we brace for distance.

 But Jesus doesn’t name these to shame her. And he doesn’t withdraw. He stays. 

She is fully known, and he stays. 

Much to the woman’s credit, instead of hiding, she leans in. She asks questions, she learns, she feels the change. Then she leaves. 

After being fully known and not pushed away, she runs back to the very community she may have been avoiding and says, “Come and see.”

She doesn’t offer a polished testimony nor pretend her story is tidy. She simply tells the truth: he knew everything about me. And still, he stayed.

The woman who came to the well alone becomes the one who invites others in.

Belonging with God is not something we earn by fixing our stories. It is something we receive in the middle of them. In Christ, we do not audition for love. We are met in our thirst and told we already belong.

And when we begin to trust that, we stop chasing acceptance everywhere else and we become people who make room at the well. For our own messy stories and for the messy stories of others, all of whom belong to Jesus, the one who doesn’t turn away.

Reflection Questions 

1. What does Jesus notice about the woman at the well? How does he respond?
2. Why is it significant that Jesus crosses cultural and social boundaries to speak to her?
3. What does living water represent in this passage? What does living water look like to us?
4. How would our world be different if we didn’t feel like we needed to pretend or be better?
5. How might this story invite us to make room at the well (in our lives) for others – including those who are different, marginalized, or “messy”?

Closing Activity 

We all feel like we don’t belong sometimes – think of things you’ve been told or ways you’ve been treated that help you feel you belong. 

• On a sticky note, write one way you can invite someone into belonging this week: at school, home, online. This can be a phrase you may say to someone or something you do. 
• Place the slips somewhere in your room or in your Bible as a reminder. 

Examples: 

• “Invite someone I don’t know well to sit with me.”
• “Give a genuine compliment to someone.”
• “Thank a teacher or parent for something they do that usually goes unappreciated.”

Final Prayer or Blessing 

God, in our messiness, in our lowest days, when we feel like we don’t fit – we believe we belong with you. Help us to know ourselves as your beloved and to reflect that belonging and love into the world to show others they belong, too. 

Amen.

Bio of Author

Liz Dinkins (she/her) is the Director for Youth and Campus Ministries at Lutheran Church of the Epiphany in Winston-Salem, NC. She’s in her final semester of an MDiv and preparing for call as a Minister of Word and Sacrament (Pastor) in the ELCA. Liz is passionate about helping people discover their identity in God’s grace and live it out in whimsical, courageous, and hopeful ways. When she’s not working, she’s probably discovering new crafting hobbies or hanging out with her four cats, dog, and/or husband, Andrew.

Prepare 

As a Pharisee, Nicodemus would have been respected and educated, one you would go to with questions and hope for answers. And yet, he came to Jesus under the cover of night, confused about the teachings he’s heard and wanting some answers.

Jesus tells him he must be “born from above.” The Greek word anōthen means both “again” and “from above.” Nicodemus hears it literally, but Jesus is pointing to something deeper—a spiritual rebirth initiated by God.

Being “born from above” isn’t being morally superior or getting everything right. It’s about the identity we receive that is rooted in the Divine Spirit. It is something God does, not dependent on anything we can do or achieve.

Jesus compares the Spirit to wind—moving freely, unpredictably, beyond human control. That image reminds us that faith is not something we manage or master. The Spirit is active in ways we may not fully understand.

Then there’s John 3:16, one of the most quoted verses in all the Bible. Often, when it’s quoted or memorized, the emphasis lies on “whoever believes…will have eternal life.” However, there are two things one can easily miss. First, God’s love precedes our belief. It’s important to note that God’s love reaches the whole world—not just the church, our country, the people who look like us, the ones who believe as we do—but the whole world. Secondly, verse 17 reminds us that God sent God’s Son into the world to save it, not condemn it. The two verses should be read and understood together.

FORMAT

This passage invites you and your students to reflect on identity, grace, and freedom. In a culture that pressures us to prove ourselves and draws sharp lines between who belongs and who doesn’t, Jesus points us back to God’s expansive love for the whole world. To be born from above is to see your identity from God—identity that is not built on division, status, or superiority, but on grace. From that grounding, we can see the Spirit at work—moving freely, sometimes wildly and unpredictably, toward life and unity in a world insisting on separation.

Opening Exercise 

You know your context best – so choose based on your students (and even the vibe of the day).

Either have students split into pairs or small groups OR give them something to write on to reflect independently. 

Ask: 

• When have you felt like you needed to prove yourself? Maybe this is a grade to make your parents proud, doing something to feel belonging in a group of friends, wearing or doing something to impress a person you’re interested in. 
• What did that feel like?

After a few minutes, invite volunteers to share themes they noticed – or even just answer the second question: What did that feel like?

Connect this / Transition to today’s scripture:

• Today, we’re exploring whether our identity is something we do/prove or something we receive. 

Text Read Aloud 

John 3:1-17 

• Read it twice. During the first reading, ask them to focus on anything that stands out or confuses them. Then on the second, focus on anything that comforts them. 

Born from Above, Already Loved

Nicodemus is a religious leader, a Pharisee formed in Scripture and familiar with the ways God moves, acts, and breathes. He’s supposed to know the answers, yet Jesus says something he can’t quite understand.

So Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night.

We don’t really know why, only that he’s confused by what he’s heard Jesus teaching. Maybe he comes so no one will see him wondering. Or maybe because night feels safer for asking hard questions.

Jesus says, “You must be born from above.”

I think when a lot of us hear this, we’re thinking, “A restart sounds nice.” This is what Nicodemus hears – a chance to do things over, right the world, improve himself. But Jesus is talking about our identity, not simply a re-do.

In our world, we’re constantly asked to prove who we are. We feel like we have to curate a specific image, defend the things we like or spend time on, market ourselves to look like who we want others to see. Jesus reminds us that being born from above (or born again) isn’t about climbing higher or being more impressive. It’s not something we choose (just like we didn’t choose our first birth). It’s about receiving life rooted in the Spirit of God.

FORMAT

Jesus compares this Spirit of God to the wind – it can’t be contained, predicted, or managed.

That can feel unsettling, right? We like control. We like certainty, especially now when there is so much chaos going on and our world feels divided, loud, and even fragile. In the midst of that, we are constantly told to pick a side.

But then we hear the words in verse 16 – “For God so loved the world…” Not just the polished, faithful parts. Not just the parts I agree with. The WHOLE world. Before any of us believed, before we have anything figured out, even when we don’t agree – God loves. God did not send Jesus here to condemn us, but to love and save us.

So if that’s our identity, if we are born into love and to love, that means a couple of things. First, we are freed from the work of proving ourselves – because God has already told us who we are. Second, we are called to love others, helping them see that freedom.

Being born again (born from above) is not an escape from the world but a deep participation in it. It is seeing ourselves and others as already claimed by God. It is trusting that even when the Spirit is quiet, she is still moving toward life and renewal.

Nicodemus shows up again later in the Gospel of John, reminding us that this work isn’t done overnight. But today we can step into life and courage.

Today, you can start to trust that you, as you are, are already loved.

Reflection Questions 

1. What confuses Nicodemus? How does Jesus explain being “born from above”?
2. Why do you think Jesus compares the Spirit to wind? 
3. What difference does verse 17 make? How does including it change the way we understand God, compared to reading John 3:16 on its own?
4. If your identity begins with being loved by God, how might that change the way you live this week? What pressure might be relieved?

Closing Activity – Breath Prayer Practice

A breath prayer is a short, simple prayer you pray in rhythm with your breathing; slowly inhale while silently praying one phrase, then exhale with the second phrase, letting the words settle in your body as you rest in God’s presence. Invite participants to sit comfortably.

• On the inhale:
  “Born from Above”
• On the exhale:
  “Already Loved”

Repeat slowly for 1–2 minutes. Encourage them to carry this breath prayer into moments of stress this week.

Other breath prayer options that may work better for your context: 

• Inhale: God loves the world
• Exhale: That Includes me 

 

• Inhale: Spirit, breathe in me
• Exhale: Move me towards life

 

• Inhale: Loved by God
• Exhale: Loving the World

Final Prayer 

Loving God, 

You loved the world before we ever knew how to love you back.
Breathe your Spirit into us again and again.
Free us from the need to prove ourselves.
Root our identity in your grace.
Send us into the world, not in fear, but in love. 

Amen

Bio of Author

Liz Dinkins (she/her) is the Director for Youth and Campus Ministries at Lutheran Church of the Epiphany in Winston-Salem, NC. She’s in her final semester of an MDiv and preparing for a call as a Minister of Word and Sacrament (Pastor) in the ELCA. Liz is passionate about helping people discover their identity in God’s grace and live it out in whimsical, courageous, and hopeful ways. When she’s not working, she’s probably discovering new crafting hobbies or hanging out with her four cats, dog, and/or husband, Andrew.