Born Again: A New Start Over and Over Again

Every time we allow new information to shape how we see the world, we are born again in some way.

This beautiful image from Jesus, often misunderstood and sometimes even weaponized, has been on my heart lately. I’ve spoken about it before, and I was moved by how many of you reached out, telling me how healing it was to see it anew. So I wanted to revisit it—to unpack a bit more what I think Jesus meant when he said, "You must be born again."

One Conversation, One Invitation

The phrase "born again" appears just once in Jesus' words, in a late-night conversation with a man named Nicodemus. It later echoes in First Peter and Paul's letters, but Jesus himself uses it only once. And that matters. Because when we understand it in that singular, intimate context, something profound comes to light.

Nicodemus misinterprets Jesus, thinking he must physically re-enter his mother’s womb. But Jesus gently redirects him: he must be born anen. In Greek, this can mean "again," but more accurately, it means "from above."

Born from above. Born of spirit.

This isn't about switching sides or trading teams. It isn't about ditching one belief system for another. Nicodemus doesn't make any grand declarations that night. He just walks away quietly to reflect. But that night changes him. You see him again in John 7, advocating for Jesus. And by John 19, he's gently preparing Jesus' body for burial. The journey had already begun. He was born again in that moment of encounter.

Fresh Eyes for a New World

To be born again isn't to have it all figured out. It's to start fresh. Like a baby who has no grand ideas about the universe but is open to everything.

This is the invitation. See the world with fresh eyes. Reconsider what you've written off. Allow that newness to soften the old certainties. That's what Nicodemus did, and it's what we're invited to do, again and again.

We do it in faith, in education, in relationships. Every time we allow ourselves to truly see someone—or something—in a new light, that’s a kind of rebirth. It's not a once-and-for-all conversion; it's a daily decision.

Transcend and Include

Here's what I find most compelling: Jesus' image of being born from above doesn't erase what came before.

You don't throw out your first birth. You transcend it—and you include it. You add something new to your story without deleting the past.

When you meet Jesus, when you take in new insight, when your view of God shifts, you are born again. But you're still you. More you. A growing you. This is why I often say:

Look forward with hope. Look back with compassion.

Change is disorienting. It unsettles. But when we look ahead with anticipation and back with kindness, we honour every version of ourselves that brought us here.

The Ongoing Journey

Born again is not a singular moment of allegiance. It's a lifelong practice of openness. It’s daily deconstruction and reconstruction. It’s the spirit whispering, “What if there’s more to see?”

Nicodemus spent a lifetime encrusting his faith with habits and language that had meaning. Jesus didn’t ask him to throw it all away. He invited him to take it apart, and see what might emerge if he put it back together with new eyes.

This is our invitation too.

To see our faith not as a fortress, but as a field.

To stop asking, "Which side am I on?" and instead wonder, "What could I see differently today?"

To believe that God meets us not just once, but again and again. That every encounter, every moment of clarity or curiosity, every time the spirit moves us to compassion or insight, is a new birth.

Born again is not the end of your journey.

It is the sacred, recurring start.

So, look forward with hope. Look back with compassion.

And let yourself be born again—today, and tomorrow, and again after that.