“When The Timing Feels Wrong” 17 January 2010

Pastor Shelley Cunningham John 2:1-11

I was all set to get up here today and talk to you about the chaos my life is in. I was going to tell you about how out of control my house is … so many boxes everywhere. I was going to make some poignant observations about how to decide what’s worth keeping when you’re sorting through years of accumulated stuff. I was going to share an amusing story about how I discovered it’s important to stir 10-year-old paint really, really well before trying to touch up nicks on the wall. And I was going to talk about how times of transition, while painful, can be helpful in that they give us a chance to take stock, make changes and grow. 

I was going to do all these things today.

And then Wednesday morning, an earthquake decimated the biggest city in Haiti, and tens of thousands of people lost their lives, and a hundred times that lost their homes, and people who were already some of the poorest, most desperate people on the face of our planet are left to try and pick up the pieces. 

All of a sudden my amusing anecdotes and wry observations didn't seem quite so important any more. So instead I want to talk about what happens when the timing seems wrong. Because that’s what this text feels like to me.

It feels wrong because when CNN shows women keening over their dead husbands and children we shouldn’t be thinking about people dancing. It feels wrong because when we hear about projected shortages of food and water the thought of bathtubs upon bathtubs of fine wine for guests who are already three sheets to the wind seems obscenely extravagant. Yes, God’s timing feels wrong this week.

But that’s the text we have for today. That’s the good news, the gospel word for this morning, and I believe that somehow God has a message we need to hear in it. So here goes:

There’s this wedding going on, see. People are celebrating. They’re dressed up in their finest clothes. The tables are laden with stuffed grape leaves and tabbouleh, with spits of roasted lamb and platters of olives and figs. Young men and women make eyes at each other while children weave in and out of tables and grandmothers wave their skirts and tell them to slow down. Everything is going according to plan; everyone is having a good time. But somewhere amid the dancing and the toasts, the wine gives out. This is a social faux pas. It’s a sign of bad planning, an embarrassing show of poor hospitality. Once the word gets out the guests will start heading home; perhaps whispers have already started to make their way through the banquet hall. The word gets to the bridegroom, whose stomach drops. This miscalculation could severely damage his reputation – and in Israelite society, reputation was everything.

But then an unusual thing happens. Off in a corner, a slight Jewish woman pulls her son aside and tells him to do something. He shakes his head. It’s not his problem. But she persists, and the man finally goes to one of the waiters. With a few words, the crisis is resolved. The party is saved. And the guests go on celebrating without having a clue that the world is on its way to being changed forever.

There’s only one good reason for Jesus to do something at this wedding. It isn’t because he wants to impress his friends. It isn’t because he’s having a ton of fun and doesn’t want to go home. It isn’t because he wants to make his mother happy (though children, if you’re listening, that’s always a good reason to do something). The only reason Jesus intervenes was this: the wine gave out. The wine gave out. There was a need, and Jesus came and met it. There was a moment of crisis, and Jesus was there. There was an emptiness that needed to be filled. There was timing that seemed all wrong, and Jesus came to make it right.

John calls this story of the wedding at Cana the ‘first of Jesus’ signs.’ Whenever John says something is a sign, it’s like a big red arrow pointing straight at the kingdom of God. God is here, he’s saying, pay attention. God is right here, in this backwater town, at this anonymous wedding, in the form of a run-of-the-mill carpenter who still lives with his mother. Now the sign in this story isn’t obvious to everyone -- nobody at the wedding even knows what happens except for a couple of servants and a few friends. And, of course, his mother. Mothers know everything. – But John takes the time to tell this story, to include this sign in his book so that we might sit up and say, hey! God is here. God shows up in a time of crisis, when the timing doesn’t feel right, when we’re at risk of losing everything or maybe when it feels like we already have. God shows up because that’s what God does. God gets up close and personal in our lives so that we can find the strength to persevere until that moment is past.

You know, that’s a good thing. Because sometimes we need that strength in a hurry. Sometimes the crisis comes out of the blue: when you get the call that your teenager has been arrested at an out-of-control party. Or when the boss pulls you aside and says sorry, but your position is being eliminated. Or when the routine check-up reveals a fast-growing cancer. Days come and days go, most of them completely unremarkable, but then one day a bridge falls down or a plane crashes into a building or a natural disaster hits and all of a sudden life feels uncertain and fragile and out-of-control. And you find you need Jesus more than ever because the wine has run out.

God gets up close and personal in our lives so that we can find the strength to persevere until that moment is past. And it’s a good thing, because sometimes we need that strength for the long haul. The road ahead can seem exhausting: when you’re starting the process of cleaning up and rebuilding after a tornado hits. Or when you’re caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s disease. Or when you’re moving to a new city and starting over making friends. Or entering a time of transition as you search for a new pastor. And you know that one day things will be better but right now you can’t possibly see when. And you find you need Jesus more than ever because the wine has run out.

For everything there is a season, the Bible reminds us, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to be born and a time to die. There are seasons where the wine runs out, and seasons where the jars are full to the brim. And unfortunately life doesn’t follow neat, orderly seasons. On days when earthquakes happen and jobs are cut, babies continue to be born and couples still give their hearts to one another in marriage. Joy and sorrow are commingled and really, only one thing remains constant: that you and I and this whole world need Jesus.

The thing is, through it all, God is there. God is there with us during times of crisis and times of change. God is even there during times when it seems nothing is really happening at all. You know how I know? I can see the signs. The sun continues to rise and set. After the fiercest storms rainbows bloom in the sky. People of different color and class come together to help earthquake victims. Disciples grow at places like Christ the King. Water may not turn into wine, but wine and bread turn into Jesus’ love. And through them God keeps on feeding us, so we will have strength for the journey. I guess there is good news for today after all.

Thank you for the privilege of being your pastor, my friends. Keep watching for the signs. Share your faith. Stay strong together. And may God’s peace be with you always. Amen.

GUIDED BY THE GOSPEL: GATHERING • GROWING • GIVING