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.
God lifts our shame.
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Part 3 — God Works on His Terms
Jesus answers Mary: “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.”
At first it sounds harsh. But in that culture “woman” was respectful — like saying “ma’am.” And His “hour” always points to the cross. He is saying: the full revealing of My glory will come later, in the shadow of Calvary.
Mary doesn’t argue. She simply turns to the servants: “Do whatever He tells you.” That’s trust. She doesn’t know how He will act. She doesn’t set the terms. She simply trusts His wisdom and timing.
That’s what faith looks like. We bring our need, but we don’t dictate the method. We say, “Lord, I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I trust You.”
This is hard for us. We want God on our timetable. We want Him to fix things now. But Cana teaches us that faith is not about control; it’s about surrender.
God works on His terms, not ours.
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Part 4 — God Provides Abundantly
Six stone jars stood nearby, used for ritual washing. Each held twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus said, “Fill them with water.” The servants filled them to the brim. And then, somewhere between the jar and the steward’s lips, water turned into wine.
But notice: not just enough wine. 120–180 gallons. More than the entire village could drink in a week. And not just average wine — the best anyone had tasted.
That is God’s signature. He never just barely provides. He feeds 5,000 and leaves baskets left over. He fills fishermen’s nets until boats almost sink. He pours His Spirit not in drops but in floods.
God’s heart is generous. He is not stingy with grace. He doesn’t ration forgiveness. He doesn’t measure joy with teaspoons. He floods it.
I’ve seen this in my own life. Times when I prayed for enough strength for the day, and God gave me peace for the week. Times when I prayed for one open door, and He opened three. Times when His answer was pressed down, shaken together, running over.
God provides abundantly.
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Part 5 — God Makes All Things New
Why stone jars? Why water? Because they symbolized the old covenant. They were used for ritual washings — repeated endlessly, never enough, always incomplete.
And there were six. In Scripture, six is the number of incompleteness. Creation was finished on the seventh day. Seven means completion, fullness. Six means it’s not there yet.
Jesus takes those six incomplete jars and fills them with new wine. He is saying: The old is not enough. I bring the new. I am the seventh. I am the fulfillment.
This ties back to the prophets. Amos said the mountains would drip with new wine. Isaiah saw a feast with the best of wines. The Messianic age would be marked by abundance and joy.
Cana announces: that age has begun. The old is passing. The new has come.
God makes all things new through Christ.
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Part 6 — God Reveals Glory
Who knew about the miracle? The steward didn’t. Most guests didn’t. Only Mary, the servants, and the disciples.
That’s how God works. His glory is not always flashing lights and thunder. Sometimes it is hidden in the ordinary, revealed only to those who are paying attention.
Isn’t that true in your life? God’s fingerprints show up in quiet ways — in a conversation at just the right time, in an unexpected provision, in peace that doesn’t make sense. His glory isn’t forced on the unwilling. It’s revealed to the humble.
That’s why John says: “And His disciples believed in Him.” The sign wasn’t about impressing the crowd. It was about growing faith in the few.
God reveals His glory quietly, to those willing to see.
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Part 7 — God’s Covenant Love
Finally, don’t miss the setting. A wedding. That’s no accident. Throughout Scripture, marriage is God’s picture of covenant love. “As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you” (Isa. 62:5). The prophets spoke of God’s people as His bride. Revelation ends with the marriage supper of the Lamb.
So where does Jesus begin His ministry? At a wedding. He is signaling: My whole mission is about covenant love. At Cana, the covenant is announced. At Calvary, it is secured with blood. At the Kingdom feast, it will be consummated with joy.
This is why Jesus later said, “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” The sign at Cana points forward — to the cross, and to the banquet of the Lamb.
God’s love is covenant-faithful, like a bridegroom’s joy for His bride.
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Final Appeal: Let Him Fill Your Jars
So what does Cana reveal?
God enters our ordinary.
God cares about our shame.
God works on His terms.
God provides abundantly.
God makes all things new.
God reveals glory quietly.
God loves covenant-faithfully.
That’s the God revealed at Cana.
And that’s the God who stands ready today to fill your jars. Whatever is empty, whatever is shameful, whatever feels unfinished — He can transform it. Not halfway, not barely enough, but to the brim.
So the appeal is simple: Lift your cup. Offer Him your jar. Let Him transform your water into wine. Let Him fill your ordinary with His extraordinary. Let Him cover your shame with His abundance. Let Him whisper His quiet glory into your life.
And as we pray, let these words be our closing song and prayer:
“Fill my cup, Lord. I lift it up, Lord. Come and quench this thirsting of my soul. Bread of heaven, feed me till I want no more. Fill my cup — fill it up — and make me whole.”
