(5) Celebrate Good Times Series

Introduction: Seven Signs, One God Revealed

I heard about a man who was driving across the country with his wife. They pulled off the interstate to stop for gas, and while he was filling the tank, his wife went inside the convenience store. When she came back out, she was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

She said, “I asked the clerk how to get to the next town, and he said, ‘Lady, you can’t get there from here!’”

Now, that sounds a little too much like life sometimes, doesn’t it? You know where you want to go. You know what you’re hoping for. But the road signs around you don’t make sense. You wonder if you can even get there from here.

That’s why I love the Gospel of John. John doesn’t just give us a travel map — he gives us seven big signs. Not roadside markers with arrows, but miracles that point us to God Himself. Each one says: This is who He is. This is where He’s leading you. Yes, you can get there from here — because He is the way.

Seven signs. Seven revelations of the person of God.

And where does John begin? Not in a temple. Not in Caesar’s court. Not on a battlefield. But in a village wedding in Cana of Galilee. A family gathering. A weeklong celebration. A moment where joy and shame hung in the balance.

And it is there — in that ordinary, noisy, crowded wedding — that Jesus reveals His glory for the very first time.

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Part 1 — God Enters Our Ordinary

Weddings in first-century Galilee were community events. Archaeologists estimate Cana may have had just a few hundred people. Everyone knew each other. Most were kin somehow. When a wedding happened, the whole village came. And not just for one evening reception. Weddings were week-long festivals. Guests lodged with relatives, food was prepared in borrowed courtyards, laughter spilled into narrow lanes.

Now think about it: God’s Son, the eternal Word, decides to reveal His glory not at a temple altar, not in Caesar’s court, not on a battlefield — but in a backyard wedding.

That reveals something: God is not aloof from our ordinary lives. He is not waiting for the big stage or the big moment to show up. He chooses to enter kitchens, dining rooms, family courtyards. He delights to be present in our celebrations and crises alike.

Have you ever thought your life was too ordinary for God to notice? Too small for Him to care? The Cana sign shouts otherwise. He chose ordinary. He stepped into a small-town wedding. He is not embarrassed to show up in your kitchen, in your workplace, in your hospital room, in your cubicle.

I remember visiting homes in Armenia where hospitality was almost a sacred duty. The family would set the table with what little they had, and they insisted you eat — even if it meant they themselves went with less that week. I never forgot that. Hospitality isn’t just etiquette; it’s identity. And Jesus is the God who comes under our roofs. Ordinary homes. Ordinary families. Ordinary settings. That’s where His glory shows.

God enters our ordinary.

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Part 2 — God Cares About Our Shame

The crisis comes. The wine runs out.

Now in our culture, that’s inconvenient. Embarrassing, maybe. You send someone to the store. But in that culture, it was a catastrophe. Weddings were a family’s greatest public moment. To run out of wine was to bring disgrace on the bride and groom for years. Neighbors would whisper. Business partners would remember. Honor lost was nearly impossible to regain.

That’s why Mary’s words are so brief but so heavy: “They have no wine.”

Why does she know? Likely because she was helping behind the scenes. In a small village, everyone pitched in. Mary wasn’t just sitting at a guest table. She was part of the family circle, helping in the kitchen, keeping an eye on supplies. And when she sees the crisis coming, she doesn’t wring her hands or start gossiping. She goes straight to Jesus.

Think of it: The first miracle request Jesus receives isn’t about conquering Rome. It isn’t about curing leprosy. It’s about saving a family from embarrassment.

That tells us something about God: He cares about our shame. Even the “small” things we think He wouldn’t notice. He is not just the God of empires and armies. He is the God who steps into the quiet crises of honor and dignity.

We live in a culture where shame still crushes. Maybe you’ve carried shame that whispers, “You’re not enough. You failed. You don’t belong.” And you think God only cares about “big sins.” No — He cares about the shame you hide in your private heart. He redeems dignity. He restores what embarrassment tried to destroy.