SC3 E-Mail Newsletter 9.12.2005

Contents
1. Something for Your Heart
2. Surf Report
3. Forgettable Fact
4. Potent Quotables
5. Parting Shot
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SHE'S HIP. SHE'S NEW. SHE'S TROUBLE.
Trouble comes in small packages. This one is five feet tall and weighs 98 pounds. Her name is Serenity Harper and she's one obnoxious little bundle of attitude, anger, and animosity. Can the care and concern of Derek, Kimberly, and the rest of the Prayer Club break through Serenity's tough shell—and prove to her that true love does exist?
Serenity: The New Bad Girl in Town—a manga series for teens:
http://www.serenitybuzz.com/
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1. SOMETHING FOR YOUR HEART
(John 3:1-21)
I can hear crickets jabbering in the shadows among the trees. Nearby in a clearing a campfire flickers. Jesus and his buddies are talking around the fire. I see them seated there in the dance of darkness and light. Someone laughs. Someone in the shadows coughs.

I've chosen to come at night when no one else can see me. No one else will even know I was here.

But I had to come. I had to meet him for myself. You see, I've heard him speak. I've seen his miracles. He's different. I know that much. There's something mysterious about him, yet something familiar, too—something that's both comforting and deeply unsettling.

I step on a twig, and it snaps underfoot. They all look up, silent now. I emerge from the shadows, and I'm sure they recognize by my clothes that I'm someone important, a teacher of the Jews. A couple of them smile and nod, obviously impressed that I would show up here to talk with their friend.

But before any of them can say a word, I clear my throat and address Jesus. "Rabbi," I say, bowing out of respect. "We know you are a teacher sent from God, for no one could possibly do the wonders you do unless God were with him."

I pause and wait for him to acknowledge the compliment.

But he doesn't say anything. He just studies my face. I can see the flicker of shadow and light on his features as the campfire leaps and twists a few feet away.

I expect him to say something like, "Gee, thanks. I appreciate that. So kind of you to mention it. Just trying to be faithful there. Just using the gifts and talents God has given me." But he doesn't, and that surprises me.

Instead he grunts, "So you think God's kingdom is proven by outward signs? Well, no one can even see God's kingdom unless he's born again."

Born again? What?

I try to wrap my mind around his words. Is he trying to tell me I've never even seen God's kingdom? Does he know who he's talking to?!

Everyone knows Jesus likes to use shocking images in his teaching, images of thieves and seeds and pigs and pearls, but . . . being born again? What's that supposed to mean?

My gaze drifts from Jesus to his disciples and then back to him. Finally, I say, "But how can that be, Jesus? How can someone be born again? You can't reenter the womb!" My words are alive with logic. I'm chuckling a little, but he isn't. Crickets chirp in the background.

"No one can enter God's kingdom unless he's born of water and the Spirit," answers Jesus, pushing a stick into the fire to reposition the coals. In the new light of the fire he must notice the bewildered look on my face because he motions for me to have a seat. I scrunch down on one of the logs they've pulled up beside the campfire. I see his wild features in the blazing light.
There's nothing tame about this man.

"We all know that humans have human babies. Well, God's Spirit produces spiritual babies." A cloud of sparks drifts skyward. "Your problem is that you think it's all explainable. But it's not supposed to be reasonable. The process is as mysterious as the wind. You can't even understand the direction of the wind—its origin or its destination. How can you expect to nail down spiritual birth? How are you gonna fit that into your neat little theological box?"

My heart is beating faster now. His words have an edge to them. He seems impatient with me, like he's talking to a child who hasn't been listening in school.

This guy doesn't beat around the bush, does he?

I watch the sparks rise into the darkness. They ride invisible currents of air, curling up into the night. Wind carries them along toward the stars—the wind of the fire, the breath of the flames. I watch them dance upward into the darkness and then disappear into the unknown. I'm trying to understand all that he's telling me. I really am. But I can't seem to make sense of it.

Finally, I shake my head. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. I don't understand."
And then Jesus loses his cool. He rises and steps toward me, filling the space between me and the fire. "You teach others, don't you? You teach the word of God . . . yet you don't understand it yourself?!"

I blink, unsure what to say. He sighs and shakes his head.
Then he speaks of purpose—the purpose of his life, the purpose of our lives, and the importance of faith at the center of it all. Over and over, in half a dozen ways, he tells me my problem isn't in my head, but in my heart. It isn't facts I need, he says, but faith. Not proof, but belief.

And he speaks to me of fear—the fear of being revealed. He tells me most people hide and are afraid to come into the light for fear that their evil deeds will be exposed.

Light and darkness . . . secrets and revelation . . . truth and lies . . . faith and fear . . . all of his words sail through my head.
He's saying I'm in love with the darkness! The words sting me. That's what he's saying. That's what he means!

The other men are silent. And then the truth hits me like a fist in the gut.

He's right, Nicodemus, you are afraid of the truth, you are in love with the darkness . . . Why else would you have come at night?
I swallow hard. How does he know? How can he see so deeply into my soul? How can he know my heart so well when we've only just met?

"But," he says at last, "whoever lives by the truth, Nicodemus, comes into the light."

His words don't sound like doctrine at all—more like an invitation.
Then Jesus is done. The fire crackles. There's nothing more to say. I nod to him. He nods back.

I look at the men sitting there, listening to all of this, studying me. I wonder how many of them have believed . . . have been reborn . . . have seen the kingdom . . . have stepped into the light.

Then I leave the fire and walk into the shadows again. And I wonder if I'm going into the shadows, or through them? Into or through . . .

His words snap at my heels as I stumble back home through the raven-black night.

Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light.

I notice stars flickering high above me like sparks from a thousand fires that finally found their way home through the night.

Am I walking into the night or through it to the other side?

"Through it," I say to myself. "I'm walking through it."

And I take a step forward.

Toward home.

Taken from "Never the Same: Stories of Those Who Encountered Jesus" by Steven James, copyright 2005, Youth Specialties/Zondervan. Used by permission. Order the book here: http://www.youthspecialties.com/product/259517

2. SURF REPORT
~ A Student's Guide to Research with the WWW
A tutorial guide to conducting research on the World Wide Web.
http://www.slu.edu/departments/english/research/

~ ClassBrain.com
Lots of online games in lots of categories
http://www.classbrain.com/artgames/publish/

3. FORGETTABLE FACT
More money is printed for the Monopoly board game every day than for the US treasury!

4. POTENT QUOTABLES
"There is not enough darkness in all the world to put out the light of even one small candle"

- Robert Alden
"Truly, it is in darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us"
- Meister Eckhart

5. PARTING SHOT
Looking for a helping hand? There's one on your arm.

copyright 2005 :: Youth Specialties
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888.346.4179