You Matter to Jesus

 

You Matter to Jesus

The next day there was a wedding celebration in the village of Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. The wine supply ran out during the festivities, so Jesus’ mother told him, “They have no more wine.” “Dear woman, that’s not our problem,” Jesus replied. “My time has not yet come.” But his mother told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Standing nearby were six stone water jars, used for Jewish ceremonial washing. Each could hold twenty to thirty gallons. 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!”

This miraculous sign at Cana in Galilee was the first time Jesus revealed his glory. And his disciples believed in him. (John 2:1-11)

You never get a second chance to make a first impression. And our first impression of Jesus’ glory leaves some of us wondering whether he may have missed the mark by not going big. You know, “Go big, or go home”? Like raising the dead or vacating an entire cemetery for that matter. First impressions are crucial, and this was Jesus’ first miracle; it was supposed to be a harbinger of things to come. And changing water to wine? Well, it just seems like a kind of nifty chemistry experiment.

The plot is almost too simple. Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding. The host runs out of wine. The local Cana Walmart is closed, so Jesus, at his mother’s encouragement, transforms six jugs of water into six jugs of wine. That’s it. That’s the opening act. Pretty low key, it seems. Certainly doesn’t have the punch of calling a person back from the dead, or the panache of straightening a crippled leg. Or does it? It was the equivalent of producing some 600 to 900 bottles, or 75 cases, or about 3 tons of grapes made into wine instantly with no aging required; a veritable Ramona boutique winery. But the content and the quantity of the miracle is not the key. So, maybe there’s more to it than first meets the eye.

You see, a wedding in the day of Christ was no small event. It usually began with a Wednesday sundown ceremony at the synagogue. People would then leave the church and begin a long, candlelight procession through the city, winding their way through the soft evening sunlight of the city streets. The couple would be escorted past as many homes as possible so that everyone could wish them well. But after the processional, the couple didn’t go on a honeymoon; the honeymoon came to them.

The new couple came home to a party. And for several days there would be gift-giving, speechmaking, food-eating and, yes, wine drinking. Food and wine were taken very seriously. The host honored the guests by keeping their plates full and their cups overflowing. It was considered an insult to the guests if the host ran out of food or wine. In fact, hospitality at a wedding was a sacred duty. So serious were these customs that, if not properly observed, the host could get sued. “Without wine,” said the rabbis, “there is no joy.”

So, wine was crucial. Not for drunkenness (which was considered a disgrace), but for what it demonstrated. The presence of wine acknowledged that this was a special day, and that all of the guests were special guests. The absence of wine, then, was a social embarrassment and reflected poorly not only on the host but on the newlyweds, too. You know. The ones who were to be celebrated?

Mary, Jesus’ mother, is one of the first, if not the first to notice that the wine’s run out. So, she goes to her son and points out the problem: “They have no more wine.” And Jesus’ response? “Dear woman, that’s not our problem. My time has not yet come.” (John 2:4) It’s almost as though Mary said, “Jesus, they’re out of wine, and we really need to do something,” to which Jesus responds, “What do you mean ‘we,’ mom”? Kind of like the time when an entire tribe of Indians surrounded the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Turning to his Indian companion, the Lone Ranger says, “Houston, we have a problem.” Tonto looks quizzically back at the Lone Ranger and responds, “What do you mean, ‘Houston’? And perhaps more importantly, what do you mean by ‘we,’ Kemosabe?” Now was not the time for Jesus’ first miracle. And Jesus was very conscious of time, and he spoke of it often throughout his ministry.

“The right time for me has not yet come.” (John 7:6) “The time has come for the Son of Man to receive his glory.” (John 12:23) “The chosen time is near.” (Matt. 26:18) “The time has come for the Son of Man to be handed over to sinful people.” (Mark 14:41) “He looked toward heaven and prayed, ‘Father, the time has come….’” (John 17:1) These phrases imply that Jesus had a schedule; a certain order and time for specified events. The mission of Christ had been carefully thought out and planned. So, he had a time and a place for his first miracle, and this wasn’t the time because the time wasn’t right. (John 2:4)

Jesus knew the plan, and this was neither the time nor the place for implementing that plan. And it appears that he was going to stick with the plan. But as he hears his mother and looks into the faces of the wedding party, he reconsiders. The significance of the plan is slowly eclipsed by his concern for the people. Timing’s important, of course, but people are even more so. So, Jesus changes his plan to meet the needs of his friends. Heaven’s schedule is altered so some friends won’t be embarrassed. The inaugural miracle is motivated not by tragedy or moral collapse, but out of concern for some friends who were in a bind.

And those of us who’re concerned with making good first impressions are left a little bewildered, maybe even a little bothered, because everything about this event seems wrong. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong crowd. Wrong miracle. We want Jesus to stick to his schedule because this isn’t the way it had been planned. But then again, if you’ve ever been embarrassed, or in a jam then you like this story a lot because this miracle tells you that what matters to you matters to God.

And we may think that’s true when it comes to the big stuff. When it comes to the major-league difficulties like death, disease, sin, and disaster — we know that God cares. But what about the smaller things? What about grouchy bosses, or flat tires or a lost cat or dog? What about broken dishes, late flights, toothaches, or a crashed hard drive? Do these matter to God? Because we know that God’s got a universe to run, planets to keep in balance, wars with which to be concerned and famines to fix. So, who am I to tell God about my ingrown toenail? Fortunately, God has already answered that question.

You are an heir of God, and a co-heir with Christ. (Rom. 8:17) You’re eternal, like an angel. (Luke 20:36) You’re a holy priest (1 Pet. 2:5), a treasured possession. (Ex. 19:5) You were chosen before the creation of the world. (Eph. 1:4) You are destined for “praise, fame, and honor, and you will be a holy people to the Lord your God.” (Deut. 26:19) But more than any of these — more significant than any title or position — is the simple fact that you are God’s child. “The Father has loved us so much that we are called children of God. And we really are his children.” (1 John 3:1)

I like that last phrase, “We really are his children.” It’s as if John knew some of us would shake our heads and say, “Naw, not me. Mother Teresa, maybe. Billy Graham, perhaps. But me? Not so much.” If those are your feelings, then John, through inspiration, added that phrase just for you. “We really are his children.” In other words, if something’s important to you, it’s important to God. And if you’re a parent, you already know that.

Imagine if you noticed an infected sore on the hand of your seven-year-old. You ask him what’s wrong, and he says that it’s a splinter. You then ask him when it happened, and he says last week. So, you ask him why he didn’t tell you sooner, and he says, “I didn’t want to bother you. I knew you had all those things to do around the house and at work, and I didn’t want to get in your way.” Get in my way? I’m your dad, and you’re my child. My job is to help you. When you hurt, I hurt.” Similarly, because you are God’s child, if it’s important to you, it’s important to God.

So, why did Jesus change the water to wine? To impress the crowd? No, they didn’t even know he did it. To get the wedding’s master of ceremonies’ attention? No, he thought the groom was being generous. So, why did Jesus do it? Why’d he change his plan? What motivated his first miracle? His friends were at risk of being embarrassed, and what bothered them bothered him. In other words, if it hurts the child, it hurts the father.

So, tell God what hurts. Talk to him. He won’t turn you away. He won’t think it’s silly. “For our high priest is able to understand our weaknesses. When he lived on earth, he was tempted in every way that we are, but he did not sin. Let us, then, feel very sure that we can come before God’s throne where there is grace.” (Heb. 4:15-16)

Does God care about the little things in our lives? Yes, he does – because you matter to Jesus. A lot. So much so that he died to call you his own.

Grace,

Randy