“An Unexpected Time” was preached at
First Presbyterian Church in Sterling, Colorado on Sunday, January 17, 2016. Inspirations
for this sermon included scripture, confession & forgiveness, class
discussions, and an article written by Christian singer/songwriter Derek Webb.
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John 2:1-11
1 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee,
and the mother of Jesus was there. 2 Jesus and his disciples had also been
invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to
him, “They have no wine.” 4 And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that
to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” 5 His mother said to the servants,
“Do whatever he tells you.” 6 Now standing there were six stone water jars for
the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7
Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the
brim. 8 He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.”
So they took it. 9 When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and
did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water
knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, “Everyone serves
the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become
drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 11 Jesus did this, the first
of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples
believed in him.
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This past fall I took one of my
favorite courses during my time at seminary. The class was titled, “Preaching
Paul,” – a course dedicated to exactly that – Preaching from the Pauline
Epistles. While I’m not doing that today as the reading comes from the gospel
of John instead of one of Paul’s letters, it had me thinking about a focus of
one of our discussions. One of the weeks – probably about a third of the way
into the semester – we spent a three-hour class period discussing the authority
of preachers and the rights of what they can preach. For example, because I’m
male, can I preach on a text that says “Women submit to your husbands” or
because I’m white, can I preach on a text that says, “Slaves obey your
masters”? We spent hours going back and forth on this idea, and I won’t speak
for the rest of my class, but I made the conclusion preachers do have the right
and authority to preach upon passages foreign to them only if they are
considerate to their own personal identity and to the context and audience in
which they are preaching. I also made the conclusion sermons that are best
received are ones where the preacher stays true and authentic to themselves
while also staying true and authentic to the audience. If I were to preach a
sermon on God’s abundant grace, I must actually believe in God’s abundant grace
and live my life in a way that best displays that. Truly, it’s the epitome of
practicing what you preach. This could be easier said than done sometimes.
Especially if the text is hard to swallow or if the text reveals some sort of
weakness in humankind.
Which brings us to our lesson today,
Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana. When I first read this
passage, two images instantly stood out in the text: weddings and wine.
Unfortunately, these are two images I’m just not okay to preach about each for
their own reason. First, I’m not married nor do I plan on being married anytime
soon, so I’ve never experienced my own wedding. I’ve never even helped prepare
for someone else’s wedding or the reception for that matter. I’ve never had to
worry about how much food to order or how much wine to get. I’ve just been someone
in the audience witnessing the celebration. So there from this perspective, if
I’m staying true and authentic to myself as a preacher, the best message I can
give you is not about a wedding. Second, while I do enjoy a glass of wine every
now and then, the unfortunate truth is, wine gives me heartburn. The worst
heartburn. One of the best things about preaching to my home congregation is
that you all can check my facts, go straight to the source. Ask my parents how
many times I complained about having heartburn this break. The number is
astounding, and I swear it gets worse and worse every time. So while I enjoy
the taste of wine, it’s usually not a good experience for me. Even the thought
of Jesus turning six jars of water, each holding thirty gallons, into wine
gives me heartburn. So again from this perspective, if I am to stay true and
authentic, I cannot preach a message about overflowing jars of wine. So where
does that leave us? A passage about weddings and wine, and this sermon doesn’t
focus on either of them.
This is where we begin to dig and
explore. If we remove the images of weddings and wine from a passage about
weddings and wine, we see at its very core, this text is a model of what
humankind failed to do and Christ’s reaction to it. See, the hosts of the
wedding ran out of wine. They weren’t prepared. They weren’t ready. They fell
short. They made a mistake. The hosts ran out of wine. They failed. A task so
small and simple, and they failed. In addition to that, Jesus lets them fail.
He lets them run out of wine, and when his own mother lets him know that the
wine gave out, he replies with a question blunt and straight to the point,
“Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?” This question hits hard, and it
hits home. A mistake was made but mistake was not Jesus’. The hosts failed.
Jesus didn’t. This was not his moment to take the blame as Jesus says, “My hour
has not yet come,” as he alludes to the moment where he will take the blame and
die by crucifixion on the cross. But here – here in this moment – here in this
one, small moment perhaps even for a few minutes – he’ll let the hosts take the
blame. Jesus will let the hosts know that they’re human, and it’s only human to
make mistakes. Failure and the mistakes we make are a part of human life.
But it’s also in this moment – a moment
so trivial such as running out of wine at a wedding – that Jesus does one of
his greatest acts. It’s in this moment where Jesus performs the first of his
seven signs as portrayed in the gospel of John. The first of his seven
miracles. And honestly, it seems the smallest of his miracles in comparison.
It’s not the feeding of the 5000 or Jesus walking on water. It’s not the
healing of the royal official’s son, the paralytic, or the blind man. And it’s
definitely not Jesus raising a man from the dead. It’s just water into wine.
Jesus turning water into wine. But I love this sign because again, if we look
at the very core of this text, this passage is about how humankind failed to do
something – how they made just a tiny mistake – and how Jesus reacted to
it. And it was a reaction of wonder and
glory and magnificence. Jesus transformed six jars of water, holding twenty to
thirty gallons each, into the best wine, overflowing and ever pouring. Wine so
great and so delicious that all at the wedding noticed. This is how Jesus
started his career in ministry. It was here in an unexpected time in an
unexpected place that Jesus revealed his glory, so that all might believe in
him. This is the God we have. This is the God we worship. A God that reveals
Godself when we fall short. A God where no mistake is too small or a failure
too great that it could ever separate us from God’s love.
We are now in the third Sunday in
January, and it’s roughly about this time when the New Year resolutions we’ve
set for ourselves start to falter and fail. Are you still going to the gym?
Have you been snacking less? Have you started that book you finally wanted to
sit down and read? Are you spending more time with your family? Have you tried
something new or stepped out of your comfort zone? Are you a better person?
Will 2016 still be your year? Whatever you’ve set yourself to do, are you still
doing it? How are your resolutions going? Whatever your answers may be, it’s
okay. If you’re still going strong, great! Push yourself! Keep working at it!
But if your resolutions have failed or you’ve let them go, that’s also okay.
You tried! You gave it an effort! You challenged yourself! Now I personally
don’t set resolutions for myself because I can’t handle the failure it brings.
Last time I set New Year resolutions was back in 2011, where I set twelve goals
for myself to be completed on a monthly basis. I only accomplished five that
year, and five out of twelve on any test or exam would be considered failing.
But maybe that’s the point from this text. That it’s okay to fail. It’s okay to
make mistakes. That your failures or your mistakes aren’t the end. What weighs
you down now won’t weigh you down forever. There is this sign of Jesus turning
the water into wine.
When the New Year came this year, I saw
an article written by Derek Webb, a well-known Christian singer-songwriter.
While I never have listened to any of his music, I was captivated by the title
of the post. Webb titled his post, “On Failure, Liturgy, and New Years.” I’m
not sure part drew me in, was it my love of liturgy or was it the idea of
reflecting on one’s failures during the New Year? So I went ahead and read the
post. It was about Webb’s divorce from his wife, and how it was caused by a
mistake he made – or rather, a series of mistakes he made, the largest
involving having an affair. Webb spent an entire year trying to fix these
mistakes before he finally wrote this post as a moment of confession. A year
after his divorce and now he was working on moving on. He acknowledged his
mistakes – he wasn’t ignoring them; he was embracing them for what they were.
He put them up front and let them hang out there for the world to see. Webb
ended his article with honest words of confession as he was trying to believe
them for himself, “I’ve said recently that my songs feel like my personal
liturgy, things I don’t necessarily or always believe but I show up to recite
again and again in hopes of believing them. If I'm honest, most of the time, I
don't believe the words in my songs. I have a hard time believing in a God that
could make, let alone love a man who could do such things. So I’ll go on
reciting and adding to my liturgy in hopes of believing the words, because I
wish to. More than ever, I wish to.”
This is Webb’s moment of practicing
what he preaches. Webb was seeking forgiveness that he wasn’t even sure that he
deserved. But again, that’s the God we
serve. A God that breathes forgiveness into us. No matter the mistakes we make
or the failures we endure. God is there, changing the water into wine. You are forgiven.
You got to say it; you got to say it again and again. Hopefully you will start
to believe it. You will know you are forgiven. You will accept that you are
forgiven. You will give thanks for you are forgiven. You’ll believe God is
there, revealing Godself to you. You’ll make mistakes here and you’ll fail
there, but that’s human nature. It’s not the end. You will never be the mistake
of all your mistakes, and you will never be the failure of your greatest
failure.
So this New Year, reflect where you’re
going and reflect where you’ve been. Let it be a model of epiphany. Be your
true and authentic self. Acknowledge what you’ve done and what you haven’t
done. It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to fail. It means you tried. It
means you’re human. But when you make a mistake, when you fail, when the wine
runs outs, keep going. Live and learn. Challenge yourself. Grow into someone
better. Let your jars overflow with the best wine. A wine so rich and great
that all take notice. It’s never too late to try to fix something broken or to
become a better person.
The transformation of water into wine
has already taken place, and it continues to take place inside of you. Maybe
the water was the place where you’ve been. Your baptism. The confession. And
maybe the wine is the place you’re going. The resurrection promised in communion.
The blood shed for your forgiveness. This was how Jesus started his career in
ministry. This was the first of his miracles. A sign to show humankind that
their mistakes will be replenished and their failures forgiven. It was an
unexpected time. It was an unexpected place. Christ transformed the water into
wine. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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Christ, Savior of the World, we have
sinned against you, but our greatest sin is that we have believed our sins have
separated us from your love. Remind us that nothing in creation will separate
us from you. We give thanks for the transformation of water into wine, the
first of your signs to reveal your glory. Let it be a model of how we should
live our lives. Be with present with us, eternal God, from this day to the end
of days. In your name we pray. Amen.
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