I tell you the truth, unless one is born again, he cannot be in God’s kingdom.

JOHN 3:3

Two sons of the king brought their father a question. “Is a gentleman born or made?”
          What do you think? he replied.

I think a gentleman is born a gentleman,” replied one son.

“I disagree,” replied the other. “A man becomes a gentleman by training and discipline.”

The king looked at his sons and issued a challenge. “Prove your case by presenting me an example. I give each of you a week to return with proof of your opinions.”

And so the two sons departed in different directions. The son who believed a gentleman was made, not born, found his proof in a tavern. He’d ordered a cup of tea and was amazed when he saw that the waiter was a cat. This cat had been trained to stand on his hind legs and carry the tray in his forepaws. He wore a tiny uniform and hat and was proof that a creature could overcome his nature with training and discipline.

The first son had his example. If a cat can be changed, couldn’t a man? So the prince purchased the animal and took him to the court.

The other son was not so fortunate. He’d searched the kingdom but was unable to find any support for his theory. He returned home empty-handed. What’s worse, word had leaked about his brother’s discovery. News of the walking cat made him doubt his convictions. But then, just hours before the two were to appear before the king, he saw something in a store window that made him smile.

He made the purchase but told no one.

The two sons entered the court of the king, each one carrying a box. The first son announced that he could prove that a man could overcome any obstacle and become a gentleman. As the king watched, the son presented the cat, dressed in miniature court dress, who gave the king a tray of chocolates.

The king was stunned, his son was proud, and the court broke into applause. What excellent proof! Who could deny the evidence of the walking cat? Everyone pitied the second son. But he was not discouraged. With a bow to the king, he opened the box he had brought, releasing several mice into the court. Instantly the cat scampered after the mice.¹

The cat’s true nature had been revealed, and the point had been made. A walking cat is still a cat. You can change his clothes. You can teach him tricks. You can give him a hat and train him to walk. And for a while he will appear to be changed. But present him with the one thing he can’t resist, and you’ll be faced with an undeniable truth—a walking cat is still a cat.

The same is true with people. We can change our clothes. We can change our habits. We can change our vocabulary, our reading level, even our attitude. But according to the Bible, there is one thing we cannot change—our sinful state.

Society would agree with the first son. It says change the outside and the inside will follow. Give a person education, training, the right habits, and the right disciplines, and the person will be changed. Oh, we try. Boy, do we try. We buy clothes. We seek degrees, awards, achievements.

We tell it to our kids. Make something of your life.

We tell it to our employees. Act yourself into a better way of feeling.

We tell it to the discouraged. Try, try again.

We even tell it to our church members. Come to church, and you’ll have a better attitude.

But peel away the layers, take away the costumes, remove the makeup, and underneath you see our true nature—a selfish, prideful, sinful heart. Just bring out the mice and see what we do.

No one describes it better than Paul. Listen to his confession:

I realize that I don’t have what it takes. I can will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don’t result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.

It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.

I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question? (Rom. 7:18–24, TM)

Paul is saying that no matter what I do, how hard I try, how much I strive, I still sin against God. Put clothes on me, teach me to walk on my hind legs, take me into the presence of the king himself, but let a few mice cross my trail and BOOM! The real me comes out.

I lose my temper,

I forget my purpose,

    I demand my way,

        I lie,

            I lust,

                I turn,

                    I fall . . .

The animal within takes over.

Please remember who wrote those words. The apostle Paul! Paul, the missionary. Paul, the zealot. Paul, the martyr. Paul, the Bible writer.

Paul, the sinner.

The same Paul who asked the question, “Who will save me from this body that brings me death?” and the Paul who answered the dilemma by proclaiming, “I thank God for saving me through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom. 7:24–25).

Changing the clothes doesn’t change the man. Outward discipline doesn’t alter what is within. New habits don’t make a new soul. That’s not to say that outward change is not good. That is to say that outward change is not enough. If one would see the kingdom, he must be born again.

That phrase, born again, belongs to Jesus. He first used it when he was talking to Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a good man. A very good man. He was a Pharisee, a religious ruler, a member of the Sanhedrin, one of the decision makers in Jerusalem. No doubt he had been taught and had taught that if you change the outside, you change the inside. He, like Paul, revered the law. He, like Paul, wanted to do right.

He thought the right training could make a waiter out of a cat.

But Jesus told him, “I tell you the truth, unless one is born again, he cannot be in God’s kingdom” (John 3:3). Nicodemus’s response is sincere. He didn’t ask Why? He asked How? Perhaps you are asking the same question. How is a person born again?

To get an idea, think back to your own birth. Put the VCR of your days in reverse, and pause at your first moments. Look at yourself. Brand-new. New hands. New eyes. New mouth. No pre-owned parts. All original material.

Now tell me, who gave you these parts? Who gave you eyes so you could see? Who gave you hands so you could work? Who gave you feet that you could walk? Did you make your own eyes? Your own hands? Your own feet?

No, you made nothing; God made everything. He was the one who made everything new the first time, and he is the one who makes everything new the second. The Creator creates again! “If anyone belongs to Christ, there is a new creation. The old things have gone; everything is made new!” (2 Cor. 5:17)

Here is (dare I say it?) the greatest miracle of God. It is astounding when God heals the body. It is extraordinary when God hears the prayer. It is incredible when God provides the new job, the new car, the new child. But none of these compares to when God creates new life.

At our new birth God remakes our souls and gives us what we need, again. New eyes so we can see by faith. A new mind so we can have the mind of Christ. New strength so we won’t grow tired. A new vision so we won’t lose heart. A new voice for praise and new hands for service. And most of all, a new heart. A heart that has been cleansed by Christ.

And, oh, how we need it. We have soiled what he gave us the first time. We have used our eyes to see impurity, our hands to give pain, our feet to walk the wrong path, our minds to think evil thoughts. All of us need to be made new again.

The first birth was for earthly life; the second one is for eternal life. The first time we received a physical heart; the second time we receive a spiritual heart. The first birth enabled us to have life on earth. The second birth enables us to have life eternal.

But the analogy contains another truth. May I ask another question about your birth? How active were you in the process? (Don’t look at me like that. Of course I’m being serious.) How active were you? Did you place your hands against the top of the womb and shove yourself out? Were you in radio communication with your mother, telling her when to push? Did the doctor ask you to measure the contractions and report on conditions inside the womb?

Hardly. You were passive. You were not born because of what you did. Someone else did all the work. Someone else felt all the pain. Your mom did the pushing and the struggling. Your birth was due to someone else’s effort.

The same is true for our spiritual birth. It is through God’s pain that we are born. It’s not our struggle, but God’s. It’s not our blood shed, but his.

Jesus illustrates this by reminding Nicodemus of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness. “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must also be lifted up” (John 3:14). Israel had been complaining against God, and so God sent snakes that bit the people. Some died, and others were dying. The people confessed that they had sinned and cried to Moses for relief. Moses turned to God, and the Father told him to make a brass snake and fix it on a pole and tell the bitten people to look on it in faith and they would be healed.

Just as the serpent was lifted up . . . so the Christ was lifted up. Just as the serpent was fixed to a pole . . . so on the cross Christ nailed the power of the serpent of Eden to a pole. And just as the snake was a curse . . . so Christ became a curse for us (Gal. 3:13). And just as the people were healed when they looked on the serpent, so we are healed when we look to the cross.

That’s all the people were commanded to do.

The poisoned people weren’t told to take medicine or to extract the poison by suction. They weren’t told to engage in good works to make an offering. They weren’t told to examine their wounds, argue their plight, or pray to the serpent. Nor were they told to look at Moses. They were told simply, oh, how simply, to look to Christ.

Sin began when Eve looked at the tree (Gen. 3:6). Salvation comes when we look to Christ. Astonishing simplicity. Summarized in the great promise of John 3:16: “God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son so that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but have eternal life.”

God, the Lover. God, the Giver. God, the Savior. And man, the believer. And for those who believe, he has promised a new birth.

But despite the simplicity, there are still those who don’t believe. They don’t trust the promise. They can’t imagine how God would know their name, much less forgive their sins. It’s almost too good to be true.

If only they would try. If only they would test it. But God is as polite as he is passionate. He never forces his way in. The choice is theirs.

And for those who do come, he has promised a new birth.

Does that mean you’ll never chase mice again? Does that mean the old nature will never rear its ugly head? Does that mean you will instantly be able to resist any temptation?

Go to the delivery room to answer that question. Look at the newborn baby. What can he do? Can he walk? Can he feed himself? Can he sing or read or speak? No, not yet. But someday he will.

It takes time to grow. But is the parent in the delivery room ashamed of the baby? Is the mom embarrassed that the infant can’t spell . . . that the baby can’t walk . . . that the newborn can’t give a speech?

Of course not. The parents aren’t ashamed; they are proud. They know that growth will come with time. So does God. “God is being patient with you. He does not want anyone to be lost, but he wants all people to change their hearts and lives” (2 Pet. 3:9).

God is often more patient with us than we are with ourselves. We assume that if we fall, we aren’t born again. If we stumble, then we aren’t truly converted. If we have the old desires, then we must not be a new creation.

If you are anxious about this, please remember, “God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure he will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again” (Phil. 1:6).

In many ways your new birth is like your first: In your new birth God provides what you need; someone else feels the pain, and someone else does the work. And just as parents are patient with their newborn, so God is patient with you. But there is one difference. The first time you had no choice about being born; this time you do. The power is God’s. The effort is God’s. The pain is God’s. But the choice is yours.