The Wedding Feast

Wedding Feast

Epiphany Season is an opportunity to reflect on the glory our savior reveals to the world not only in the Incarnation at Christmas, but in His whole life and ministry. Each of our reading in this Epiphany season is about that same shining forth, the revelation of God’s glory in Christ.

Today’s gospel tells how Jesus turned water into wine at a wedding in Cana. John says, “Jesus did this the first of his signs in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory.” This wasn’t just a miracle of hospitality, it was a sign, a picture of who Jesus is and why He came.

The story shows us that God doesn’t just fix problems; He transforms them. He can take a difficult situation and bring something better out of it, so good, in fact, that we wouldn’t trade the outcome even if the problem had never happened. “The last wine is better than the first.”

When hardship strikes, we ask, “Why did God allow this?” It’s an honest question. But it can’t be answered unless we also remember this truth: God can turn even sorrow into joy. Whether in this life or the next, He will transform our sadness into gladness. The miracle at Cana is a picture of that promise. Wine in Scripture is a symbol of joy. Sometimes, though, we find that the wine, “the joy” of God’s presence is gone. We may still believe in God but find that the warmth, the sense of His presence, has faded. We’re out of wine.

That’s what happened at the wedding. And that’s when Mary said to Jesus, “They have no wine.” His reply sounds harsh: “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”

In Aramaic, “woman” isn’t as harsh as it sounds in English. But Jesus was making a distinction. He was showing that His miracles would not come through family privilege, but through faith. Mary’s appeal couldn’t rest on her being His mother; it had to rest on trust in who He was. She told the servants, “Do whatever He tells you.” That one sentence holds the key to the whole story, and to our faith.

When life feels empty and God seems silent, it’s easy to think, “God knows my trouble, why doesn’t He do something?” But faith doesn’t stop at complaint. Faith acts. Mary didn’t know what Jesus would do; she simply trusted that obeying Jesus would make room for His power.

Faith begins when we decide to do what Jesus asks, even when we can’t see how it will help. Getting lost in a forest is terrifying. You panic, shout for help, but if there is nothing, sooner or later, you have to choose a direction and keep going. Only then can you find your way out.

The same is true spiritually. When we’re lost in grief, guilt, or confusion, we may cry out for God to change everything, to remove the problem or the person. But the way forward usually begins with a quieter step: doing the next right thing we know Jesus would have us do.

It may not feel like progress at first. In fact, it may feel pointless, like filling jars with plain water when what we need is wine. But faith means doing what Jesus says, not waiting until we understand why.

Catherine Marshall once told a story from her own life that mirrors this truth. For seventeen years she took sleeping pills for insomnia. She disliked depending on them but feared giving them up.

One day she traveled and accidentally left them behind. She thought, perhaps God means for me to trust Him now. That night she prayed for sleep, but she couldn’t sleep at all. Back home, she threw out her pills anyway, promising God she would depend on Him. She took the first step of faith.

Then came eight sleepless nights. Exhausted and angry, she protested, “Lord, I obeyed You, and look where it’s gotten me!” But slowly, insight came: “When you obey, I do more than one little thing. You’ve been demanding instant sleep; I want to heal the whole person.”

Through those long nights, God was restoring more than her rest. She began to dream again, wild, emotional dreams that helped her face buried feelings that the pills had kept her from handling. As her heart healed, so did her sleep. In time, she slept peacefully and naturally. That’s what God’s transforming work looks like.

He begins when the wine runs out. He takes our small steps of obedience, the water, and turns them into something rich and new. The wine He gives is better than what we had before. This miracle at Cana reminds us that Jesus doesn’t simply restore what’s lost, He recreates. He makes all things new.