When the Law Grows Old, the Spirit Speaks

Nicodemus, the Garden of Hesperides, and the Voice you've heard before

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Those who stand on tiptoes do not stand firmly,

Those who rush ahead, don’t get very far,

Those who try to outshine others, dim their own light. Chuang Tzu

Nicodemus had it all. “A ruler of the Jews” (John 3:1), a prominent member of the Sanhedrin, a teacher of Israel, he was affluent, influential, esteemed. He was an expert in the Law, and yet he knew something was missing. When all you have in life is the Law, eventually you begin to suspect there must be more to life—if you’re honest with yourself.

You strive to reach the top—you stand on your tiptoes, you stretch and strain—but you still can’t have what you truly want. Slowly, it dawns on you that all your efforts are in vain. The Law, after all, is only “a shadow of the things to come.” When you place your hope in shadows, emptiness becomes your constant companion. You grow spiritually famished. Worshiping shadows comes at a cost. You start to feel old.

Jesus begins his conversation with Nicodemus with the famous phrase: “You must be born again.” When you feel old and empty, you start craving renewal—the return of youth. The feeling of being alive again. You want to re-experience the fire of being young. But how?

“Can a man enter his mother’s womb a second time and be born?” This was Nicodemus’ lingering question for years. He longed for renewal. Jesus redirects his gaze from the physical to the spiritual: “You must be born again—of the Spirit.” Youth is not merely a physical phenomenon. It is spiritual Fire. Spiritual youth is the result of communing with the Spirit—being reborn from within.

In fact, the only way to reverse time is to hear the voice of the Spirit.

The Spirit breathes on whom He willeth, and thou hearest His voice.

You have been wearing the straightjacket of the Law—so tight that it doesn’t allow the wind of the Spirit to enter. That’s why it feels so stifling in there. And yet, you know the Voice. You have heard it before. The Spirit burns with Imperishable Fire—the fire of eternal youth. Living in shadowlands makes one old. Living in the Spirit makes one young. It’s like being born again.

What you really long for is an encounter with Fire. This is why you came under the cover of night. You want to see someone embodying the Fire of eternal Youth. I am here, Eternal Renewal, sent from heaven. I am the Fire. You don’t need to enter your mother’s womb a second time if you experience the womb of God.

“You are the teacher of Israel, and yet you do not know nor understand these things?

The Hebrew word “rachamim” (רָחַם), used in Exodus 34:6-7, is often translated as “compassion” or “mercy,” but its literal meaning is “womb.” In the Torah, rachamim expresses how God feels about us—like a mother feels about a baby in her womb.

How could you have missed it, Nicodemus?

Eternal youth comes every time you experience rachamim, the womb of God. Let the Law point you to reality. Don’t get stuck midway, in the world of shadows. The sacred golden apples from the Garden of Hesperides are before your eyes. Take them and eat them, and you will feel young and alive—always.

To feel forever young, you don’t need to enter your mother’s womb a second time; you can enter God’s womb—and dwell there. In rachamim, the Law is transcended; shadows part, and we see—as we are seen.