Read: John 2
Jesus told the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” When the jars had been filled, he said, “Now dip some out, and take it to the master of ceremonies.” So the servants followed his instructions. When the master of ceremonies tasted the water that was now wine, not knowing where it had come from (though, of course, the servants knew), he called the bridegroom over. “A host always serves the best wine first,” he said. “Then, when everyone has had a lot to drink, he brings out the less expensive wine. But you have kept the best until now!” (John 2:7-10, NLT)
It was his first recorded miracle—and even then, Jesus was reluctant to perform it. It was not yet time to launch his public ministry as Messiah of Israel, but he was at a wedding with his family and the wine was running low. The event planner was in a panic, so Jesus’ mother said, “No worries, my son will take care of it.” Thanks, mom! So Jesus turned water that was being stored in several thirty-gallon jars nearby into the best wine the world has ever tasted, before and since.
Of the many things that could be discussed from this water-into-wine miracle, one of the facets that stands out the most to me is how understated Jesus was in performing this miracle. When the great tasting wine was discovered, neither the master-of-ceremonies nor the happy party goers knew where it came from. Only those who brought the water jugs to Jesus knew that he had transformed the liquid. And Jesus wanted it that way.
In fact, that seemed to be the way Jesus performed most of his miracles. He never made a big deal out of them, other than to draw praise to his Father. He never made a spectacle of his divine powers. He never showcased the miracles’ recipient like a zoo exhibit. Jesus’ miracles, you might say, were under the radar.
Yet there is no way to keep an authentic miracle under wraps—not for very long anyway. Sooner or later, the power of God breaks containment, and word gets out. Maybe that is why Jesus handled miracles the way he did—he let the miracles do the talking.
Unfortunately, too many spiritual leaders today who have been used in the miraculous don’t follow Jesus’ lead. The bigger the miracle, the quicker the press conference or the book deal or the fund-raising letter! Now to be fair, if I turned water-into-wine, or raised someone from the dead, or performed some other sensational miracle, I’m afraid I, too, would head right to the local Christian network to tout what God had done through me. That is too bad! God doesn’t get all the glory when we do that.
Maybe we would see more supernatural displays of God’s power in our culture if we would commit to allowing the miracles to speak for themselves—and to fiercely make sure that all the glory goes to God when he graces us with one.
“That is what gives Him the greatest glory – the achieving of great things through the weakest and most improbable means.” ~Thomas Merton
What If God Took Over?
In The Way of the Heart, Henri Nouwen wrote, “To live and work for the glory of God cannot remain an idea about which we think once in a while. It must become an interior, unceasing doxology.” Spend some time today—and make it a practice every day—thinking of how to give God glory through your life.
After some time, Jesus speaks and says to those who want her executed, “Ok, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” And with that bombshell, one-by-one, from oldest to youngest, they walked away, leaving only Jesus and this sinful woman face-to-face. What now? Would Jesus give her a good moral tongue lashing. No, he just gently asks, “Where are your accusers? Has no one judged you guilty?”
Not bad advice! Wouldn’t we save ourselves a whole lot of wasted energy by just minding our own spiritual business? I know that’s true for me. The time and emotional drain I spend worrying whether someone else is walking with Jesus the way I think they should takes away from the spiritual energy that could be focused on growing me up in Christ.
Peter’s spiritual pushiness is what endeared him to Jesus. His personal deficiencies are well documented, of course; the entire world knows of them thanks to the Gospel writers. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John pulled no punches in their accounts of this braggadocios, foot-in-mouth, leap-before-you-look, speak-before you think disciple. Yet is was Peter’s reckless abandon when it came to spiritual expectancy that led Jesus to declare, “Peter, on your kind of faith, I am going to build this small team of disciples into a world-wide force called ‘the church’ that will take back Planet Earth from Satan and return it to its Rightful Owner.” (Matthew 16:18)
In the awful light of what Jesus had been through, and what he knew he was about to go through, what an amazing statement of not only understanding the sovereign will of God, but of complete trust and submission to it. That was the reason Jesus could so calmly and resolutely traverse the terrible way of the cross. And that is the reason you can walk through the difficulties of your life as well—even if your path takes you through the valley of the shadow of death. As King David said, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4, KJV)
Have you ever wondered why John took this small, seemingly insignificant detail and tucked it away within the more obvious storyline of Jesus’ arrest? Perhaps he wanted us to see what was plain to Jesus’ disciples: That even the Son of God carved out the time and made room and even found a physical place in his life for regular communion with his Father. Furthermore, Jesus had purposely included his disciples in his private times with God to leave an example for them to show that if he, the very Son of God, needed quiet time, so did they.
As the class time came to a close, she began to relax. She asked the class to join her in their usual closing ceremony. “Let’s make our churches,” she said. “Here’s the church and here’s the steeple, open the doors and there’s…” Then the awful reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks—the one armed boy couldn’t make a church with his hands. The very thing she’d feared the kids would do, she’d done. As she stood there speechless, however, the little girl sitting next to the boy reached over with her left hand and placed it up to his right hand and said, “Hey Davey, let’s make the church together”