“Water into Wine” (John 2:1-11)

Turning Water into Wine

George Gordon Byron, simply known as Lord Byron, is considered as one of the greatest English poets, one of the leading figures of the Romantic movement in the 19^th century. The following is the story when the young Lord Byron was taking an important exam in religious studies at Oxford University. The examination question for this day was to write about the religious and spiritual meaning in the miracle of Christ turning water into wine. For two hours all the other students were busy with filling their pages with long essays, to show their understanding. But the young Lord Byron just sat, contemplating and looking out the window. The exam time was almost over, and he had not written a single word. The proctor finally came over to him and insisted that he had to write something before turning in the paper. The young Lord Byron simply picked up his hand and penned the following line: “The water met its Master, and blushed.”

Life without Wine  

Today’s passage is a story about a wedding banquet. The Apostle John led by the Holy Spirit carefully chose this particular episode as the first story of Jesus’ official ministry. Today’s story goes like this: one day Jesus and his disciples were invited to the wedding as guests. In Jesus’ time the wedding celebration was considered to be the pinnacle of life. Instead of a honeymoon, the bride and groom had open house for a week. They were considered to be king and queen. Oftentimes all the people in town were invited to celebrate together. It was the whole town celebration. At the wedding banquet wine was essential. At that time to the Jewish mind, wine was a symbol for joy. So “without wine, there is no joy.” But in today’s passage something happened. The wine ran out. “They have no more wine!” the mother of Jesus said. Running out of wine during the wedding celebration brought shame to the family. But even more than that, it meant joy had run out.

A life without wine means life without joy – a joyless life. Of course, everyone wants to live a happy, fulfilling, joy-filled life. The question is, “How can we have this joy-filled life?” “How can we have joy?” Some people think that if we make a nice bucket list and cross things off the list one-by-one as we finish them, that would give us joy. Creating and completing the bucket list might give us a sense of achievement. But the thing is that joy doesn’t last long. That joy runs out.

Have you seen the film, “The Bucket List”? Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman starred in this film. Both of them are announced they have lung cancer. They decide to do everything on their bucket list before they die. They go skydiving together. They drive a Shelby Mustang together. They ride motorcycles on the Great Wall of China together. They attend a lion safari in Africa together, and so on. They do lots of fun and interesting things together. But at the end the time comes. Although they did everything they wanted, they didn’t find lasting joy. They didn’t have free, full life that they were looking for. Eventually, Morgan Freeman dies on the operating tables, and Jack Nicholson dies at the age of 81 in the film. This film is entertaining. It relieves our fear about death on some level. But it never solved anything. Nothing changed. Doing what I want to do is like drinking seawater. The more we do what we want to do, the more thirsty we become.

Life with Wine

If you are searching for joy, or if you feel like joy is running out in your life, today’s story is for you. Many of us in this room already invited Jesus into our hearts, but oftentimes we treat him as our guest, perhaps a special guest at best, but not as the Master. There is a clear limit and boundary for guests. They are not allowed to get involved in our private matters – such as our family matters and finances. In today’s story at first Jesus was invited as a guest. So at the beginning he couldn’t do any work there, even though he was the Son of God Almighty (cf. Mk 6:5). But later, we see some people who believed in Jesus and treated him as their Master. For example, look at the servants. At the wedding banquet there were six stone water jars, altogether holding up to 180 gallons of water. When Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water,” they filled them up, not to half, but to the brim (v. 7). They showed complete obedience. Then Jesus said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the master of the banquet.” And they did. They showed immediate obedience. You see there is no logical connection between turning water into wine and filling the jars with water and taking it to the host. But the key is to trust and obey. When we trust Jesus as our Master and obey him, he turns our water into wine. He turns our tasteless, insipid, sparkless life into rich, fulfilling, joy-filled life.

I had to admit that although I always grew up in the church and was so familiar with the Bible and God, Jesus was a guest in my life for a long time, for more than 20 years. I didn’t take Jesus seriously. I was the one who planed ahead – whether it was about school, work, or travel. I was the one who made important decisions in life. I prayed, but deep in my heart I had already what I wanted. I didn’t seek his guidance. I didn’t listen to him first. I didn’t wait at his feet. I did what I wanted first, and then I asked God’s blessings later. I wished my decision was God’s will. I was always wandering and searching for joy, but I never had it. But Jesus was so merciful, gracious, and patient. He rescued me out of many dangers, broken relationships, fatal illnesses. And eventually, I came to my senses and invited him to be my Master. Then, everything began to change one by one. I began to have a sense of purpose, direction, and goal in life. I began to have a sense of being at home, a sense of wholeness. Most of all, I found joy that never runs out.

Joy, Joy, Joy

At the wedding banquet Jesus turned water into wine at Cana. Jesus still turns water into wine today. Let me share the story of one man whose life turned from a life like “insipid” water to a joy-filled life – a life with wine. His experience is very personal and unique, but at the same time, somehow it is a universal experience for every Christian.

His name is Blaise Pascal. He was perhaps the most brilliant mind of his generation. At the age of 19 he invented the world’s first mechanical calculator. He achieved both wealth and honor at a very young age, but for some reason at the pinnacle he felt miserable. He felt something was missing. There was no joy, no peace. Though he considered himself a Christian, to him Jesus was only a guest. On November 23, 1654 he got a major horse carriage accident, but miraculously he was saved. He saw this as a warning directly from God. That night he humbly surrendered his life to Christ and encountered him in his room. In his journal Pascal said:

FIRE. God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, not of philosophers and scholars. Certitude, heartfelt joy, peace. God of Jesus Christ. God of Jesus Christ. "My God and your God." . . . Joy, Joy, Joy, tears of joy. . . Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. May I never be separated from him!

That night to Pascal, Jesus became his Master. Since Jesus came into his life as the Master, he always carried this note in his coat until he died. Since that day, in everything Pascal put Jesus in the center of his life. He listened to the Master and obeyed him day by day.

So how can we have joy? How can we turn our life like “insipid” water to a joy-filled life? “The water met its Master, and blushed.” It is not until we meet the Master that we can have joy everlasting. As we ring out the Old Year and ring in the New, may we commit and recommit ourselves to Christ and put him in the center of our lives. Let me close with the prayer of Missionary C. T. Studd:

Give me Father, a purpose deep,

In joy or sorrow Thy word to keep;

Faithful and true what e’er the strife,

Pleasing Thee in my daily life;

Only one life, ‘twill soon be past,

Only what’s done for Christ will last.

“The Wounded Healer” (Isaiah 53:4-12)

God’s Method

How would you describe the year 2021 in one word? Perhaps words such as “alienation,” “separation,” “isolation,” and “loneliness” might come to your mind. During this pandemic many churches and Christian organizations are constantly on a stretch to devise new methods, new plans, new task forces, to overcome loneliness and make the gospel relevant. But God’s method is always the person much more than anything else. E. M. Bounds rightly said, “The Church is looking for better methods; God is looking for better men.”[1] “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John” (John 1:6). It was the person John who broke the silence of the 450-year intertestamental period and prepared the way of the Lord.

“Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa 9:6). As Israel was going through the darkest hour, God promised that he would bring his salvation through the person – the Christ Child. Psalm 2 also proclaims the same eternal truth. When the nations, the kings, the rulers conspire and plot against God, saying, “Let us break their chains and throw off their fetters.” But the One enthroned in heaven laughs and says to his anointed, “I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill. You are my Son; today I have begotten you” (vv. 6-7). In turbulent times the world’s salvation comes out of the Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.  

Jesus, God’s Wounded Healer

So we are eagerly waiting for the coming of the Messiah. We are anxiously waiting for the Day when he will give justice to his people and make it right. Our image of the Messiah is often more like a charismatic king, or an invincible general. But in today’s scripture, God’s Messiah is described as a totally unexpected figure, and he saves his people in an unexpected way. So what was the Messiah like? The Bible says, “He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering (sorrows), and familiar with pain” (v. 3).  Then, how did he bring salvation to his people? “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed” (v. 5). By taking up our pain and carrying our suffering. That’s how God’s Messiah brings salvation to his people.

When John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” Then Jesus, who had no sin, received the baptism of repentance by John. Gordon MacDonald invites us to imagine the scene of Jesus’ baptism if it took place in the twenty-first century. Gordon was a well-known, promising, beloved pastor at Grace Chapel in Lexington, MA for 12 years. In 1987 he admitted to an adulterous affair. He publicly repented. He experienced forgiveness of sin in a very personal way. In that context Gordon asks us to imagine John’s baptism occurs in our lifetimes, so we go out to be baptized by John. Imagine someone decided to get organized, so they set up a registration table, handing out nametags for each person who wants to be baptized by John. When a person registered for baptism, the person working the registration would ask, "What’s your name? And what sins do you need to repent of?" You’d say, "My name is Gordon and I’m an adulterer." So each person to be baptized would have a nametag with their name and their sin written on it. My nametag would say, "Victor" and then underneath would be words like “hypocrisy,” "pride," and "judgmental spirit." Then comes Jesus who doesn’t need a nametag, and he asks each of us to take off our nametags. As Jesus prepares for his baptism, he puts all our nametags on himself, mine and yours, my name and your name, my sins and your sins. And then Jesus goes into the waters of baptism, identifying himself with our sins. That’s why Jesus was baptized by John. Jesus became our sin, and we became his righteousness (2 Co 5:21).

What would you have on your nametag? Perhaps your nametag would have “unforgiving spirit” or "premarital sex" or “adultery” or “guilt of abortion” or “scars from divorce.” Whatever we have on our nametags, Jesus takes off ours and gives us a new nametag, on which is written, “God’s Beloved” (cf. Matt 3:17). All we need to do is to confess our sins and to trust in the Lamb of God who takes away our guilt and shame, sin and sadness. By his wounds we are healed.

 Called

Although God takes away our sin, he leaves us with scars – healed wounds – as a constant reminder of God’s grace, and as a source of healing for others. We are then called to be wounded healers. There is a world of difference between “open” wounds and “healed” wounds. Open wounds say, “Don’t worry because I suffer from the same depression, confusion, and anxiety as you do.” But it is of no help to anyone. Open wounds stink and do not heal. But healed wounds say, “I have been there. And I still see my pain and suffering from deep within today. But God has been gracious to me. I feel your pain.” Recently, Joyce has suffered from impotence in her estranged relationship with someone she loved. She tried to mend the relationship. But it was no use. She felt powerless, hopeless, depressed. Then, one day in an unexpected time and place Joyce had a chance to meet one Christian woman who shared her story. How Jesus healed her, how he lifted her out of the pit of despair, pulled her from deep, messy mud, how he stood her up on a solid ground. As Joyce was listening, she wept and wept. All of sudden, she began to see a ray of hope that says “With God all things are possible.” When we share our healed wounds with others, they become a source of healing.

But, when we share our wounds with others, it has to be done out of humility. It has to be beggar to beggar, patient to patient. In order to cultivate humility, we need to have a constant willingness to face our own pain and brokenness. Let me give you an illustration from one of the Talmud stories. Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi came upon Elijah the prophet while he was standing at the entrance of Rabbi Simeron ben Yohai’s cave … He asked Elijah, “When will the Messiah come?” Elijah replied, “Go and ask him yourself.” “Where is he?” “Sitting at the gates of the city.” “How shall I know him?” “He is sitting among the poor covered with wounds. The others unbind all their wounds at the same time and then bind them up again. But he unbinds one at a time and binds it up again, saying to himself, ‘Perhaps I shall be needed: if so I must always be ready so as not to delay for a moment.’[2]

In this story the Messiah, the Wounded Healer, is sitting among the poor, binding his wounds one at a time, so he can look after his own pain and suffering, and at the same time, he can be prepared to heal the wounds of others, while the others are preoccupied with their own wounds and problems. We too are called to be wounded healers. If we don’t see and bind our own wounds, those untreated wounds will stink. If we only see our wounds, we will burden others with our pain. But when we bind our wounds one at a time, we will see our own brokenness and stay humble, and with humility we will make room for others to be themselves and to come to us on their own terms.

Life as a Wounded Healer

We cannot save anyone. We cannot heal anyone. Our life, as a wounded healer, is simply to invite people to the Light where their wounds can be seen and healed. It’s to guide wounded people to the Healer, as we humbly share our pain, our brokenness, our hope with them. 

In his book The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen says that the message of the wounded healer is here and now: “The master [the Liberator] is coming – not tomorrow, but today, not next year, but this year, not after all our misery is passed, but in the middle of it, not in another place but right here where we are standing.” [3]

Whatever you are going through, wherever you are, today is the day of liberation. The Messiah is coming. The Wounded Healer is coming. Come, let us adore him. Come, let us be healed and help others heal. Amen.

 

---

[1] E. M. Bounds, Power through Prayer (Christian Classics Remix), 1.

[2] Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, (The Crown Publishing Group), 81-2.

[3] Ibid., 95. 

“The Prodigal Father, the Prodigal Sons” (Luke 15:11-32)

Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son

Rembrandt van Rijn is considered as one of the greatest painters of all time. Known as the “painter of light,” he had a profound knowledge of the human heart and a deep faith to express profound emotions and eternal truths. Biblical stories inspired Rembrandt throughout his life. Today’s scripture, Luke 15:11-32, is one that perhaps inspired him most and became his last great painting, The Return of the Prodigal Son. This painting is more than 8½ feet tall, and the figures are life-sized. At first sight, the spotlighted prodigal son immediately draws our attention – his bare feet, ragged clothes and shaven head. But then, the light swells and ascends to the father’s illuminated face, across his brow, and then shoots like an arrow across the picture to the face of the other son – the elder son, who remained at home. The more we listen to this parable told by Jesus Christ our Lord, the more we realize that the prodigal person is not just one, but three: the younger son, the elder son, and the father.

The Younger Son

First, the younger son. One day he said to his father, “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me” (v. 12), then he packed all his belongings and left for a distant country. Let us take a pause, and think about the implications of a son’s request for his inheritance while the father is still living. Has anyone of you made such a request in your life? Never! Why? Because the request means, “Father, I want you to die,” or “Father, I cannot wait for you to die.” And the son’s leaving to the distant country is an act of rebellion.  

When Adam was created, from the beginning he could hear the voice that says, “You are my Beloved. I am well pleased with you.” But Adam wanted to be a god himself and chose to rebel against God and moved to a distant country. Adam’s rebellion. God said to Israel, “You are my Beloved. You will be my people, and I will be your God.” But the Israelites were not satisfied in God and constantly ran after other gods to satisfy their desires. And God said to them, “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns that cannot hold water” (Jer 2:13). Israel’s rebellion. If we really pay attention, we can hear the voice say, “You are my Beloved. You are my joy.” But we too constantly seek our security and happiness in a distant country – in someone or something other than God. “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.”

But God’s grace is greater than our sin, stronger than our rebellious heart. In Rembrandt’s painting the younger son is dispossessed of everything, except for one thing, his sword – the short sword hanging from his hips. This is the symbol of his sonship, the sign of God’s grace. Although he became a drunkard, beggar, outcast, the sword was a constant reminder that says, “Remember, who you are! You are still the beloved son.” Then, finally he came to his senses and resolved to turn back. That’s the power of God’s grace.

The Elder Son

Then, there is the elder son. When he heard the news that his younger brother was back, and his father has killed the fattened calf to celebrate, he became angry and refused to go in (v. 28). Outwardly, the elder son was faultless. He did all the right things. He was obedient, dutiful, and hardworking. People respected him, admired him, and praised him. But inwardly, he was lost as much as his younger brother. All of sudden, it became so obvious that he was resentful, unkind, harsh, judgmental, self-righteous. This elder son is also the prodigal son.

When Jesus was sharing this parable, there were two types of audience groups. Luke 15 begins this way: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them” (vv. 1-2). The younger son symbolizes the lost (the tax collectors and sinners), and the elder son represents the self-righteous (the Pharisees and the scribes). In this context Jesus tells three parables in a row: the parable of the lost sheep, the parable of the lost coin, and the parable of the prodigal son. All these three parables have the same message, that is in verse 10, “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

But the elder son refuses to join and celebrate together. Instead of rejoicing over the father’s mercy and generosity, he grumbles, compares, and is jealous. He doesn’t know his father’s non-comparing love. In God’s household, all people are uniquely and perfectly loved. But the elder son believes, “If my younger brother has favor from the father, then he must be more loved by the father than I.” I don’t know about you, but for me, I see myself in the elder son. When I hear the news that another church is thriving, it’s hard for me to rejoice with them. When another colleague does a wonderful job and gets acknowledged, I easily feel excluded and resentful. But Jesus says, “In the house of my father there are many places to live” (John 14:2). The mark of the Father’s sons and daughters is joy. It is to go in and rejoice with the Father, with our brothers and sisters – especially with the undeserved siblings.

The Father

Lastly, the Father. In this parable we see how deep the Father’s love is through his two distinctive actions: one is waiting, and the other is running. The Father waits. As Father, he wants his children to stay safely at home and to enjoy his presence. But as Father, he also wants his children to be free, free to love. That freedom includes the possibility of their leaving home and going to a distant county. But when they did, the Father is always waiting, always hoping, never giving up on them. A friend of mine once shared her spiritual homecoming. She always grew up in the church, but then she drifted away from God in her teenage years. She was wandering. In college she attended a prayer meeting by her friend’s invitation. During the prayer time, she wept. After a while, she saw a vision. Right in front of her, Jesus was standing with outstretched arms. She asked, “Where were you when I cried out for help?” Jesus replied, “My daughter, I have been waiting for you with outstretched arms for 20 years.” The Father is always waiting and looking for his children with outstretched arms.

Not only does the Father wait, but also he runs to his homecoming children. While the younger son was still far off, his father saw him and ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. In Jesus’ time, however, a Middle Eastern man never ran. If he were to run, he would have to hitch up his tunic so he would not trip. If he did this, it would show his bare legs. In that culture, it was humiliating and shameful for a man to show his bare legs. The question is what motivated the Father to shame himself? Kenneth Bailey, author of The Cross & the Prodigal, explains that if a Jewish son lost his inheritance among Gentiles, and then returned home, the community would perform a ceremony, called the kezazah. They would break a large pot in front of him and yell, “You are now cut off from your people!” The community would totally reject him. So probably the Father ran in order to get to his son before he entered the village, before the community gets to him, so that his son would not be humiliated and rejected. The Father had taken the full shame.[1] He loved his son lavishly and extravagantly.

The Father’s love goes out to both sons. When the elder son refuses to go in, the Father stops the party and comes out to him and gently pleads with him. He does not defend himself or even criticize the elder son’s behavior. He simply invites his son with great affection, “Son” (teknon, “an affectionate form of address”), you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”

Love Came Down

This story is open ended. Both – the rebellious younger son and the resentful elder son – needed to come home. Both needed forgiveness and reconciliation. Without reserve, the Father brought out the best robe and killed the best calf to celebrate. And both were invited to the party.

Today we too are invited – whether we are the younger son, or the elder son, or both. Our Father throws a party for us with the best garment and with the lamb who is slain. “If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will separate us from the love of Christ? … Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:32, 35, 38-39).

Love came down at Christmas. Jesus still comes to us today, waiting for us with outstretched arms, running out to us to find us and bring us home. Sisters and brothers in Christ, let us come home running.

 

---

[1] Mary Gregory, “Is Rembrandt’s ‘Return of the Prodigal Son’ the greatest painting of all time?” Catholic Digest (March 28, 2019) https://www.catholicdigest.com/amp/from-the-magazine/way-of-beauty/is-rembrandts-prodigal-son-the-greatest-painting-of-all-time/