When you think of the time Jesus turned water to wine at a wedding in Cana, what’s your first thought? “I know the story. I’ve read it many times and heard many teachings about it. I don’t need to hear it again.” Or perhaps you thought, “I’m familiar with the story. I’m open to hearing about it but I don’t think I’ll hear anything new.” Or maybe you’re anticipating what the Spirit might say to you through the story? Is your reaction blasé, indifferent, tolerant, excited? Hold that thought.
This is the first of seven miracles recorded in John’s Gospel which was written to convince people that Jesus is the Messiah and Savior of the world. We could talk about the embarrassment of the newlyweds should they fail to provide adequate hospitality at their wedding. We could talk about this miracle showing the difference between life in the Old Covenant vs. life in the New. We could talk about Jesus being the life of the party and our source of joy. But I want to talk about Mary’s exhortation, the simplicity of Jesus’ instructions, and our awe of God.
Mary, Jesus’ mother, became aware of the newlyweds near social blunder and called for Jesus to do something about it. We’re not told why she appealed to Jesus, perhaps she wanted to reveal His true identity to vindicate her unwed pregnancy? Maybe she hoped He’d begin His conquest to overthrow Rome? We don’t know. But she sought His help. But Jesus made it clear, ‘It wasn’t yet time for His reveal.’
Mary’s Exhortation
But something He said, perhaps in His tone or the way He said it, suggested He’d do something. Because Mary responded to the servants with an encouragement (v5), “Do whatever He tells you to do,” there was no room for reasoning or discussion here: ‘What if He tells me to do something awkward or difficult? What if He tells me to do something beyond my ability? Or something insignificant or pointless?“ ’Do whatever He tells you to do, no matter what it is. Just do it.’
Some people think that doing something for God should be some great feat or grandiose gesture. “God wants me to sell my house and give the proceeds” or “Move overseas for the gospel’s sake.” To a lesser degree, doing something for God might be giving a donation, hosting a Bible study, or going door to door with fliers and Bible tracts. You get the idea. People usually think doing something for God involves a tangible action specifically for the gospel: “I’m doing this thing for the sake of the gospel.” There’s nothing wrong with that line of thought. But we seldom think everyday activities might be a consecrated work for God. Or that doing something completely unrelated to the need at hand might be a task ordained by God. Mary revealed a need to Jesus, then commanded the servants to obey Jesus no matter what. Watch what God tasked them with …
Jesus’ Simple Instructions
Jesus showed the servants six large waterpots, each big enough to hold 20-30 gallons of water, and told them to fill them with water (v7). Now these pots were used for purification rituals, but Jesus planned to repurpose them to hold wine. But no one knew it. Now when the servants heard the command to fill them with water, they might have thought Jesus was planning to introduce a purification ritual into the wedding festivities as an attempt to divert attention from the lack of wine? Or maybe they thought it was a plan to dilute wine with water to make it last? “Why does He want us to fill these jars with water?” It’s doubtful they suspected Jesus would do the miraculous. At any rate, they filled the jars to the brim. They did what Jesus told them to do, to the fullest extent. Mary said, “Do whatever He says.” ‘This is what He asked. We’ve done all we can do.’
Sometimes Jesus asks us to cook four potatoes instead of two, buy two chickens instead of one, go to this store instead of that one, ask that person instead of this one … or to fill the purification jars with water when we need wine for the wedding. Have you ever felt the prompting of the Spirit to do something that didn’t make sense? Maybe you already have one, why do you need another? Maybe you already went there, why go again? And because you don’t see a need or understand why the Spirit would prompt you to do this, you justify not needing to do it. ‘Why does He want us to put water in these jars? What’s the point? We don’t need water. We need wine. Doesn’t He understand our need?’ Jesus certainly understands our needs, just as He knew their need. But He meets our needs in ways that cause us to acknowledge the awesome power of God. He meets our needs in ways that leads us to glorify Him.
Jesus then told the servants to draw from the waterpot and deliver it to the master of the feast. When he was given a glass of water turned to wine, he admonished the bridegroom. And because Jesus manifested His glory, His disciples believed in Him (v11). It was a simple task they were asked to do, seemingly insignificant and unrelated. But after they did what He asked, God did the miraculous. They drew water which God turned to wine. God takes what we bring and transforms it into something that glorifies Him. What He asks us to bring might seem insignificant and unrelated, everyday things we don’t classify as ‘unto the Lord’ or ‘for the sake of the gospel.’ Like an extra meal, a trip to the store, a glass of water, or being hospitable. But God takes this insignificant thing and uses it for something glorious. We often overlook the social or civil tasks of a daily routine and seldom give a second thought that these things might be useful to God. And so we take them for granted. Which causes us to be less aware of God at work in our lives and lose our sense of awe of God since we’re no longer surprised by God in the minutia of our daily routine.
In Awe of God
In F.W. Boreham’s book, Faces in the Fire, he wrote an essay titled, “The Baby among the Bombshells.” It’s an intriguing title suggesting the innocence and curiosity of babies and the unexpected surprises of bombshells. The two themes are joined by the curiosity of a small child leading to a life filled with surprises and bombshells of discovery. Notice the picture he paints:
“As I sit here writing, a baby crawls upon the floor. It is good fun watching him. He plays with the paper band that fell from a packet of envelopes. He puts it round his wrist like a bracelet. He tears it, and lo, the bracelet of a moment ago is a long ribbon of coloured paper. He is astounded. His wide-open eyes are a picture.
The telephone rings. He looks up with approval. Anything that rings or rattles is very much to his taste. I go over to his new-found toy (the phone) and begin talking into it. He is dumbfounded. My altercation with the telephone completely bewilders him.
Whilst I am thus occupied, he moves towards my vacant chair. He tries to pull himself up by it, but pulls it over on to himself. The savagery of the thing appals him; he never dreamed of an attack from such a source. In what a world of wonder is he living! Bombs are bursting all around him all day long. A baby’s life must be a thrillingly sensational affair. But the pity of it is that he will grow out of it.”
Boreham, Faces in the Fire, pg. 17
What a picture! A child is astonished by the things we take no notice of. O that we would be astonished by the daily minutia of God. “Look at the birds,” Jesus said, “for they neither sow, nor reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable to God than them” (Matt 6:26)? “Consider the lilies of the field,” said Jesus. “Consider how they grow, they neither toil or spin … even king Solomon wasn’t as exquisite as they are, and yet God causes them to grow ”(Matt 6:28-30). When was the last time you paused to contemplate God’s provision for the birds? When did you last look at the lilies and flowers of the field and rejoice in God’s faithfulness? Jesus told us to pause and look at the daily minutia of God’s beauty and faithfulness, to be in awe of God … that your faith would be built up, so as not to worry or grow anxious.
Could it be that our senses have dulled and we’re no longer impressed by what God does through the daily occurrences of life? Why is that? Listen again to Boreham:
“I visited the other day the ruins of an old prison. I saw among other things the dark cells in which prisoners languished in solitary confinement. Various writers have told us how, in those black holes, convicts adopted all kinds of ingenious ideas to secure themselves against losing their reason in the desolate darkness. They tossed buttons about and groped after them; they tore up their clothes and counted the pieces; they did a thousand other things but went mad in spite of all their pains. Now what is this horror of the darkness? Let us analyse it. Wherein does it differ from blindness? Why did insanity overtake these solitary men? The horror of the darkness was not fear. A child dreads the dark because he thinks that wolves and hobgoblins infest it. But these men had no such terrors.
The thing that unbalanced them was the maddening monotony of the darkness. Nothing happened. In the light, something happens every second. A thousand impressions are made upon the mind in the course of every minute. Each sensation, though it be of no more importance than the buzz of a fly at the window-pane, the flutter of a paper to the floor, or the sound of a footfall on the street, represents a surprise. It is a mental jolt.
It transfers the attention from one object to an entirely different one. We pass in less than a second from the buzz of the fly to the flutter of the paper, and again from the flutter of the paper to the sound of the footfall. Any man who could count the separate objects that occupied his attention in the course of a single moment would be astonished at their variety and multiplicity. But in the dark cell there are no sensations. The eye cannot see; the ear cannot hear. Not one of the senses is appealed to.
The mind is accustomed to flit from sensation to sensation like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, but infinitely faster. But in this dark cell it languishes like a captive butterfly in a cardboard box. If you hold me under water I shall die, because my lungs can no longer do the work they have always been accustomed to do. In the dark cell the mind finds itself in the same predicament. It is drowned in the pitch-black air. The mind lives on sensations; but here there are no sensations. And if the world gets shorn of its surprise-power, it will become a maddening place to live in. We only exist by being continually startled. We are kept alive by the everlasting bursting of bombshells.”
Boreham, Faces in the Fire, pg. 14-16
Boreham is saying that not only is there surprise power in the daily things of life, but we find comfort in knowing God allows big surprises, challenges, trials and tribulations to remind us of His presence and faithfulness … to bring us back to the place of child-like faith, where all we can do is trust God and then stand in awe of His amazing power, to bring us back to seeing God in the daily minutia. To help us remember God, He’s provided the wonder of creation. But it requires discipline to pause and contemplate the stars, to watch the birds and see how they play, to look at the intricate details of flowers and lilies. It requires discipline to pause and marvel at God’s creative handiwork. We’re too often hurried by the cares of this life, distracted by the pressing needs upon us, and discouraged by the engulfing darkness of this world.
I’m reminded of the threats against Hezekiah and Judah (Isa 36-37). King Sennacherib of Assyria had been discrediting Hezekiah, calling him a liar and deceiver, and threatening to conquer Judah. When Hezekiah received the final letter from the Assyrian king, he surrendered it to God and prayed for salvation. Through Isaiah, God assured Hezekiah that He would defend Judah and that the Assyrians would fall. Then God sent an angel of the Lord and struck down 185,000 Assyrians. With a Word, God defended Judah and gave them the victory. With a Word God did that! With a Word God made our universe. With a Word God held back hungry lions from devouring Daniel. With a Word God paid Peter’s taxes with money from a fish’s mouth. With a Word, God calls to you and draws you to Himself, to speak to you, anoint you, and send you out … with a Word.
And that Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14). The Word became flesh so we can know God, hear His voice, understand His will, and walk in His ways … with Him. Never discount filling waterpots when Jesus tells you to fill them, because your ordinary task may be used for something extraordinary … for the Word that created the world is the same Word speaking to you.
