Chapter 31
John 2:1–11
There was a wedding in Cana — full of laughter, dancing, and joy — until someone noticed a problem: the wine had run out. In that culture, this wasn’t a small issue. Wine represented joy and blessing, and to run out was a public embarrassment. The celebration was about to collapse into shame. Mary saw it first. She turned to Jesus and said, “They have no more wine.” He hesitated, saying His time had not yet come. But she simply told the servants, “Do whatever He tells you.” Nearby were six large stone jars used for ceremonial washing. Jesus told the servants to fill them with water. They did, no flash of light, no sound from heaven, just obedience in the ordinary. Then, as the water was poured out, it became wine — and not just any wine, but the best of the night. The host was amazed. The party went on. Most guests never even knew a miracle had happened.
The miracle at Cana wasn’t loud or dramatic. It happened quietly, behind the scenes, before anyone knew there was a problem. It was just the quiet fix!
So much of God’s work in our lives looks the same way — quiet, unseen, and deeply faithful. Someone forgives. Someone prays. Someone gives when no one is watching. The jars get filled before the joy runs dry. It’s a reminder that the holiest work often looks like ordinary care. The world doesn’t hold together through grand gestures but through small, faithful acts of love. Sooner or later, the wine runs out again — not just at weddings, but in life. The energy fades. The joy drains away. Faith feels thin. We keep smiling, hoping no one notices how empty we feel inside. But the miracle at Cana tells us something beautiful: the jars had to be empty before they could be filled again. Renewal begins in the emptiness — when we stop pretending, admit the shortage, and bring it to Jesus. “There is no more wine” becomes the prayer that opens the door to transformation.
Every act of love, every quiet “yes” to God in hard seasons, is its own kind of miracle. Love runs out, and yet we keep showing up. Faith feels small, and yet we keep trusting. Somehow, God keeps refilling what we thought was empty.
That’s the promise of Cana — that Jesus still fills our jars.
Not always dramatically, not always instantly, but always faithfully.
And somewhere between the pouring and the tasting, the water becomes wine again.
If the quiet fix is often the best one, what empty jar are you willing to offer up for transformation this week?
And where in your own life might you be the “servant”—performing a small, ordinary act of obedience that leads to someone else’s unnoticed miracle?
Wishing you a good start to this new week 42 of 2025!
Philemon