Note: this sermon was written for January 20, but since we got snowed out, it was preached on January 27.
Epiphany 2C
January 20, 2019
John 2:1-11
INTRODUCTION
The
lectionary today takes us for just one week into the Gospel of John, so I
wanted to contextualize the story for you, so you know where we are landing.
The first chapter of John provides a lot of set-up: on Christmas Eve, we heard
the prologue of the Gospel, where John identifies Jesus as “the word made
flesh,” God incarnate, God here, concrete, among us. Then John the Baptist comes
along and points him out, and people start following, and inviting others to
“come and see” God among them. Today’s story, in which Jesus
famously turns water into wine, is Jesus’ first public act of ministry. John
will call it his first “sign.” So before we get too far along, let me ask you:
why does John call it a “sign”? What is a sign, like, a street sign, and what
does it do? … Just like a sign on the road directs you or points you toward
something, Jesus’ “signs” in John point us toward something. What is that
something? … God! Always pointing toward God. Today’s is the first of seven
such signs. Some of the signs are miracles, like today’s, but the most
important thing is that they point us toward some truth about God. They help us
to see and understand something about God – which makes them perfect to think
about during Epiphany, during a season when we talk a lot about how God is “made
visible.”
As
you listen, think about what this story, and really all of our readings today,
have to show us about who God is for us.
[READ]
Grace to you and
peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Six and a half
years ago, I was dating this great guy, Michael, and we were talking about
getting married. But then one of the worst things that could happen, did: I was
diagnosed with cancer. Since I suddenly found myself in a position where I was
making all kinds of life-changing decisions about my health, I told my
then-boyfriend that any conversation about marriage had to be put on hold,
because I couldn’t make any more big decisions at this time. Lucky for me, he
didn’t listen to me. And so it was that, on a windy day in September, we were
in the car driving out to Genesee Valley Country Museum, and I was chatting away
about a recent visit to see my best friend and how beautiful her wedding ring
was, and Michael blurted out, “Was it as beautiful as this?” and held out the
ring he had already purchased. My response was… not great. “What are you
thinking??” I said. “Put that away! We’re in the car! Why are you doing this –
I told you not to do this!” But then I saw the ring, which was, by the way,
more beautiful than my friend’s (no bias), and I said fine, yes, I would marry
him. Then I asked him to ask me again later, and properly, so that I could
behave in a way more befitting of an ecstatic bride-to-be. He did, and I said
yes, and then we flew a kite to celebrate.
Timing is
everything, isn’t it? Asking me to marry him in the car was not the perfect
time (though he will tell you that I gave him the perfect opening and he had to
take it), nor was that particular time of my life ideal. But, planning that
wedding, and celebrating it even in the midst of enduring two back-to-back
cancer diagnoses, gave me life and hope and a constant reason to focus on the
many tomorrows of my life. Timing was
everything!
Speaking of
weddings – apparently mine wasn’t the only one with some meaningful timing to
it. Along with interpreters throughout the centuries, I’ve always found this
exchange between Jesus and his mother very strange. In her mother-knows-best
way, Mary tells Jesus, “Hey, Jesus, the wine has run out,” implying that he
really ought to do something about it. And Jesus responds curtly, “Woman, what
is it to you and me? My hour has not yet
come.” But then, turns out, his hour had
come, because after Mary tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them, he
goes ahead and takes care of the situation, in excessive fashion, quietly
providing some 120 gallons of fine wine. And with that, God himself is revealed
as a God of abundance, grace, and life.
This week I’ve
been really lingering on that line, “My hour has not yet come.” Because timing
really is everything, for better or
worse. How much of our lives do we spend worrying about timing? Is it the right
time to get married, or have a baby, or buy a house? Is it the right time to
leave this job and find another? Is it the right time to open up that difficult
conversation with a loved one? Is it the right time to give up my driver’s
license and car, or move to assisted living, or move closer to my grown kids so
they can care for me in my old age? Is it time to let go of a loved one whose
health is failing? Is it the right time? Has the hour come?
And if you are
like me, then you like to have a clearly laid out plan for your life, in which
you know when things are going to happen, and in what order! But then God says,
“My hour, my time, has not yet come.” Like that Woody Allen quote, “If you
want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Sometimes plans are thrown off by
an accident or diagnosis, as happened with me, sometimes by meeting just the
right person, sometimes even by something as small as a word or a smile or a
phone call at just the right time… and suddenly all those plans we had laid out for ourselves make God
laugh and slap his knee and say, “Nope, sorry, not what I had in mind. My hour has not yet come.”
In my
conversations with you over the past month, I have heard a lot of anxiety and
fatigue around the question of God’s timing. “Two and a half years,” I keep
hearing, “two and a half years without a pastor! Two and a half years without
consistent leadership. It’s been a long haul!” I think it’s fair to say that if
anyone in this congregation had been in charge of arranging the timing, then
you would have had a new pastor long ago, right? But I’ve gotta say, I’m glad
you weren’t in charge, because I was not ready to be your pastor, even one and
half years ago. I was interested, when I saw this call was available, but I
wasn’t ready (and didn’t even know, then, that I wasn’t ready!). I had some learning
and maturing and growing to do, growth that will make me a much better pastor
for you. I had some things to finish, things that left my previous churches in
a much stronger position. And when I first got a call from the synod office
asking if I would consider being one of three candidates for St. Paul’s, I
thought, “Really, God? Right now? This isn’t good timing!” But as I went along
through the process, I realized that while my view of the timing wasn’t great,
God’s timing was spot on – at least it was for me, and I hope that we will
find, as we continue our journey together, that it was for you, too!
No, I don’t
just hope that. I know that. Because
God has shown again and again that God’s timing brings about life – even if it
isn’t the way we thought life would look. The Israelites spent 40 years
wandering in the wilderness – time that they needed to reset, and learn to
depend upon and trust God. Israel then spent 70 years in exile, time they
needed, to hear God’s word proclaimed to them through the prophets, to get them
back on track after having strayed from God’s law. And when they finally
returned to Jerusalem, I won’t sugar coat it – life was not all hunky-dory.
They still had their struggles and challenges. But life was new. This experience and time period ushered
in a new phase of their life of faith.
And we see this
also in our Gospel reading today. “My hour has not yet come,” Jesus says, but
then he realizes that it very much is the hour. And so, on this third day of the wedding, Jesus performs
his first sign. Did you happen to catch the detail? On the third day? Anything
else you can think of that happened on the third day? … “On the third day, he
rose again.” The resurrection! The ultimate in God’s timing, the very
expression of new life, the very moment when we were assured that death has no
power over God: on the third day he rose
again.
And so we, too,
can be sure that with God’s timing guiding our lives, we will rise again – rise from the dust of all those things that
hold us captive, whether fear, or uncertainty, or even our own sin. We, too,
will find new life, and gracious abundance. In God’s time, sisters and brothers
in Christ, in God’s hour, we will live into God’s abundant and extravagant hope
for us – as individuals, as St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, and as the whole Church
on earth. God’s time will tell – and I can’t wait to see!
Let us pray… Abundant God of grace, we so long to have
control over our lives and do things in our own time. Help us to trust your
timing, and give us confidence that when we trust you, you will lead us into
life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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