1 March 2026, Genesis 12:1-4a and John 3:1-17, “Zeal of God”

Imagine a couple walking into a world-famous steakhouse to celebrate their anniversary. The host greets them warmly, confirms their reservation, and seats them in an elegant dining room. When the waiter comes by to take their order, they hesitate for a second. It is their first time at a restaurant like this.

Eventually, the husband speaks up. "We’ll have the Ribeye and the T-bone, please."

"Excellent choice, sir. And how would you like those cooked?" the waiter asks. The man pauses, thinking for a moment, and then says, "Just do your best." When the waiter asks about the sides, he simply says, "No thank you. I’d like to stay in the middle." He is so overwhelmed by the atmosphere that he doesn't even get a chance to ask about the sauce.

The order makes its way back to the head chef of this Michelin-starred restaurant. He picks up the ticket and looks at it carefully. Instead of "Medium" or "Well-done," it simply reads: Do your best. No sides. No sauce. Nothing. At first, he wonders what kind of order this is. But then, something stirs in his heart. He thinks, "No sides? No sauce? They are leaving everything up to me? They want my absolute best?"

Suddenly, the chef is inspired. He decides to pour his entire soul into this one dish. It is no longer just about satisfying a customer; it is about fulfilling his own definition of the perfect steak. By stripping away the extras, the customer has challenged the chef to let the meat speak for itself. He selects the finest cuts and prepares them with total precision. From the perfect sear to the exact timing of the resting, every detail is a work of art.

Finally, he brings the plates out himself, almost prayerfully. He looks at the couple with solemn pride and says, "Sir, you told me to do my best. I have poured my entire being into this for you. Please, taste the essence of my work."

The husband looks up and says, "Oh, Chef, it looks incredible. Truly. But could I get some soy sauce with fresh chilies on the side? Oh, and I was wondering if I could have a bowl of steamed rice, please?"

The chef did his absolute best that night. He really did. But the end of that story was nothing like what he expected.

Let us step into a different night. We meet a man who gave his absolute best to his faith. His name was Nicodemus. He was a Pharisee, a leader of the Jews. In the kitchen of his life, he tried to be the master chef. He spent his whole life trying to grill the perfect life for God. He kept the Law at the right temperature, seared his days with morality, and poured on the sauce of religious zeal.

He comes to Jesus under the cover of darkness and says, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him." He is polite, respectful, and evaluates Jesus with his own best judgment.

But deep down, he is thirsty for something his own effort cannot fix. He has spent his life following the recipe perfectly, yet his soul is still hungry. Nicodemus is a man meeting the limits of his own zeal. He expects a better recipe. He thinks Jesus will hand him a new cooking tip for his soul—perhaps a stricter law or a higher standard of practice. He is ready to do his best with a new set of instructions.

But Jesus does not even examine his best. Instead, He points to a totally new way. He tells him, "Nicodemus, this is not about how well you cook. No matter how carefully you grill a steak, it will never become a living cow. Life is not something you cook; life is something you are born into."

Jesus explains that being born again is like the wind. You do not tell the wind where to go or when to blow. The wind always blows first. When it brushes against your cheek, you simply feel it. When you see the leaves trembling, you realize the wind is here.

It is simple but profound: You do not have the initiative. God does. No matter how hard you wait for the wind, you cannot make it move. Only the zeal of God moves the wind. Eternal life, salvation, and truth are all things that the zeal of God creates, not us.

This brings us to an important question: Do we believe so that we can be born again, or are we born again so that we can finally believe? The answer is about His initiative and His will. Let us look at John 3:16 with new eyes: "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."

We often treat this verse like a contract. We think, "If I do my part and believe, then God will do His part and give me life." It begins to sound like a deal. We fixate on the word "perish," and fear fills our hearts. In doing so, we miss the beauty of the One speaking to us.

John 3:16 is not a threat hanging over our heads; it is a promise beating with life. It is born from His relentless love and His untiring care for our souls. God did not merely look at the world. He loved the world. And because He loved, He gave His Son. His passion did not hesitate. He gave His absolute best, walking all the way to the Cross.

This is the mystery. This is the zeal of God that we could never reach through our own effort. The Gospel does not say, "If you love Me first, then I will give you My Son." It does not say, "Prove how hard you are working, and then I will consider giving you eternal life."

It begins and ends with four words: "For God so loved."

Before we ever knew Him, He already loved us. Before Nicodemus stepped into the night searching for truth, God had already stepped into the world searching for him. This is a love that outruns every human effort. No matter how far you run, His love reaches further. No matter how deep the shadow, His light finds you.

What should we be doing during this Lenten season? Yes, we practice fasting and spiritual discipline. These things matter. But I pray that these efforts do not become another display of our own zeal. Lent is not a stage where we perform our devotion or a competition to prove how serious we are.

It is time to shift our focus from our zeal to God’s zeal. Are we still standing in the kitchen of our lives, gripping the tongs, trying to grill that steak with our own hands? Or are we finally ready to trust Him completely?

Our prayer should be: "Lord, I need You to do Your best." And God responds: "My child, I have already given My absolute best. I have given My all for you."

We do not have to cook our own salvation through our own labor. We just need to step out of the door, stand in the breeze, and catch the wind of His grace. We can never be more passionate about our lives than God is. We can never out-work or out-love the Creator who is pursuing us.

Life is hard. We face trials and carry heavy pain. In those moments, we are left with many questions that seem to go unanswered. We feel like our own fire has gone out and our own zeal has run dry. But even in those dark valleys, God’s zeal is not resting. He is not watching from a distance. He is faithfully helping us, guiding us, and passionately holding onto us.

Our disappointment is not the end of the story, because God’s "I will" is still in motion. This love does not merely comfort us; it is a promise driven by the unwavering zeal of God. His zeal carried Jesus to the Cross and leads us toward our eternal home.

As we move forward, let us remember that our lives are not about how we did our best. It is about remembering how God has done His best among us. Turn away from your weary effort and look toward His victorious declaration: "I gave My best." Trust His zeal. Step out of the kitchen of your own striving and stand in the wind of His grace.

Amen.