504: Water to Wine | Dave Sloop

Introduction

Good morning everyone, so glad that you're here as we continue our series in the book of John. Today we've made it to chapter two, so you can go ahead and turn there if you have your Bible with you.

Before we jump in I wanted to ask a question: how many of you have ever had the experience of watching a movie and you're so engrossed in it and you think you're tracking, and then all of a sudden something happens at the end that just completely blows your mind—a surprise ending? And then as you reflect on the movie, you think, how did I miss that? If you watch it again, it’s so obvious you can't unsee what you just discovered. Anybody ever seen The Sixth Sense?

Okay, I actually thought to myself I wonder if I should even mention that movie from the pulpit. I don't know that I can recommend it; however, it is one of those experiences that I had where my mind was just blown with this shocking ending that reframed everything, and it was so obvious in hindsight. I sometimes wonder if this is the experience that the disciples had when they reflected back on three years, day in and day out, with Jesus.

He did so many things and said so many things that were confounding to them. They just did not understand—and we wouldn't have either—but then he died, and he rose again, and he came back and was with them for 40 days.

In fact, in Luke's Gospel, chapter 24, he meets some guys on the road to Emmaus, and they’re so distraught over Jesus' death. They don't recognize that it's the resurrected Christ walking with them. It says that Jesus, beginning with Moses and the prophets, began to show them how all of the scriptures pointed to him.

There must have been so many moments after he ascended into heaven where they thought, oh my gosh, do you remember when he said this or did that? He was pointing back to some Old Testament promise that he fulfilled or some future kingdom covenant blessing he meant to bring in glory. I bet they constantly had those moments.

You know, this miracle that we're going to look at today is his first miracle. It’s always been one of my favorites, especially as a young Life staff person. For about 20 years, my primary calling was to work with teenagers who were spiritually disinterested. I always found this miracle impactful to point to because, as Colossians 1:15 says, Jesus is the image of the invisible God.

So whenever we see him doing or saying something, what we're witnessing is a visual representation of who God is, what his character is like. And so I wonder, what does this miracle teach us about his character—especially for spiritually disinterested teenagers?

The Context of the Passage

Here we see Jesus showing up in Cana of Galilee at a wedding. In verse 10, we learn that these kinds of parties would go on for seven days—this was common in ancient Jewish weddings.

In verse 10, we also learn there was going to be excessive drinking, because there always was at these parties. Jesus shows up, and the wine runs out. You might think if you have this view of God—that he is a cosmic disciplinarian who just sits above his creation, looking down, disgruntled and frustrated at all the disobedience—that maybe he would be relieved at this point, wishing the wedding would end so they wouldn't keep making bad choices.

But instead, this Jesus—who is the image of the invisible God—makes more wine so the party can keep going. What is that all about? And I might say at this point to disinterested teenagers: I'm not suggesting to you, and I'm not suggesting to anyone here, that God advocates drunkenness. But what I am saying is that a God who primarily cared about rules probably wouldn't do something like this. Maybe he cares more about relationships than rules—which is a fine observation, and it’s true.

There may be some among us today who need to understand that Jesus, who represents God in the flesh, is not someone who's primarily out to control your behavior. He's after your heart. He wants a relationship.

But there is so much more going on under the surface of this miracle. In fact, for me, in my study over the last week, I had a bit of a sixth sense experience looking at this miracle.

I'm almost convinced that this is one of the miracles that John, who authored this gospel, thought, oh my gosh I never saw it. I didn't see it until now, but in verse 11, John says that this was not just a miracle; it was a sign, the first of his signs. A sign is more than a miracle. It points to something. It means to tell us something about who Christ is and what he came to be, and about the kingdom he intends to bring.

In verse 11, it says this is the first of his signs in which he manifested his glory. Those are big words. He revealed in this miracle his true identity.

At first glance, this miracle almost seems like Jesus was a begrudging participant. His mother says they're out of wine, and he responds, "Why do you involve me?" It’s almost like he doesn’t want to get involved. But John wants us to know that this—this sign—is the first in which he manifests his true identity.

What is it that John can't unsee that he wants you and me to see? Let's find out.

Let's look at John chapter 2. And, by the way, I need to warn you: I lost my glasses. I found these in the lost and found. I think they’re for women, and if they belong to you, you're welcome to claim them after the service.

Let's look at John chapter 2, starting in verse 1:

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.

On the third day—that phrase has significant biblical weight. You know, in Genesis chapter 2, it was on the third day that Abraham saw the place where he would sacrifice Isaac. In the book of Exodus, God's manifest presence descended on Mount Sinai on the third day. It was on the third day Jonah was spit out of the belly of the fish. Hosea 6:2 says:

On the second day he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up.

So this third day language points to divine revelation of God's glory or presence. It is a sign—like in Jonah—of ultimate deliverance. Of course, the most famous third day is Jesus' resurrection—his being raised from the dead.

I have no doubt that John is pointing forward and backward with this language—that something significant is happening on the third day.

But there’s something else, easy to miss. If you're like me, you've read this story hundreds of times and never noticed what I’m about to tell you.

Here's what it is: the third day is the completion of a sequence of days that began earlier in chapter one. Did you know this? John's gospel begins with these words:

In the beginning

which references Genesis and the creation.

In Genesis 1, it says:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Darkness was on the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. He saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. He called the light day, the darkness he called night. And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.

That phrase is repeated over and over again in Genesis. There was morning and evening on the second day, and so forth.

In John's gospel, a similar pattern emerges. The first day begins when John the Baptist appears on the scene, as in verse 6 of chapter 1:

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.

He bears witness to the light. He says, "I'm not the light, but I come to bear witness to the light." How does he characterize himself?

I am a voice crying out in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord.

This is the first day. Then, just like in Genesis, there is a repeated phrase: "The next day," "the next day," appearing multiple times—verse 29, verse 35, verse 43, for example.

This sequence takes us through seven days of what I will call a "recreation." A new beginning.

That's not where the similarities end.

In Genesis, after the seven days of creation, there's a marriage: Adam and Eve. Followed by a crisis—their shame and loss of joy. They experience shame, they lose joy, and then God pronounces judgment but also promises redemption.

Genesis 3:15 is key:

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.

Here, God promises a redeemer.

In John's gospel, this pattern repeats: a seven-day cycle of recreation, then a wedding at Cana, followed by a crisis—the shame and loss of joy.

But then, a conversation between Jesus and a woman named Mary—who speaks about restoring joy and covering shame.

This is no accident. John is deliberately using Edenic language. He’s showing we're redoing Eden here. Jesus, the one at the beginning, comes to create a new beginning. He's recreating, reversing the curse that started in Eden.

His primary function in this miracle—how we see his true identity—is to restore joy and to cover shame.

Application

Let’s focus on how we see those two themes happening in this miracle.

Starting at verse 9: the joy experienced by the master of the banquet upon tasting the wine Jesus provides.

It says:

When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine—and he did not know where it came from—though the servants who had drawn the water knew, the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine; but you have kept the good wine until now."

Notice first that the master experienced the wine without knowing its origin. He was aware of all the preparations, but now he's tasting something he was unaware of because it didn’t come from him. It came from somewhere else—that's the first thing about the joy Jesus brings: it comes from another place.

In the Bible, joy is often represented by wine. The absence of wine—removing wine—is a picture of judgment. For example, in the Old Testament, banishing wine was a sign of God's judgment.

This wedding has become a metaphor for human experience: our joy has run out, and we are under God's judgment. But Jesus provides a joy that originates from somewhere else.

The second point: Jesus' joy is better—sweeter than what was tasted before. He keeps the best wine until now.

Most people wait until everyone is drunk to serve the cheap wine, but Jesus provides the best—an even sweeter joy.

And I suggest to you all: you were created to experience lasting joy. When you don't, there's a sense that something is wrong. Every human being is pursuing joy, satisfaction, fulfillment. We seek it everywhere.

But the problem: we live in a world where the wine keeps running out—the wine of this world, which is fleeting. Yet, our bodies know we are meant for joy that lasts forever.

And that’s why Jesus came—to bring lasting joy.

When Mary approached Jesus, she seemed to believe he could usher in this season of lasting joy.

It makes you wonder—what did she know about her son? I think she understood he was the Messiah, even if she didn't understand everything.

A promise about the Messiah from Isaiah 25 says:

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well-refined; he will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death forever, and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces.

This future joy is promised.

And you know what? You have been waiting for this joy—whether you realize it or not. There's something in your heart that knows it’s longing for deep, lasting joy. That's what Jesus wants all of us to experience.

And I use that word intentionally—experience. It’s sensory. That’s why David in Psalm 63 says,

In your presence, there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

And Paul in the New Testament says:

Nothing compares to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

There is an experience of his joy that we are meant to taste: taste and see that the Lord is good. Our God is a God to be experienced.

What we are to experience is boundless joy. It’s coming in the future, but we can taste it now. The question is: why don't we taste it more?

Who is this joy offered to? The answer: only for those who understand why they’ve lost it.

This is the story of the Garden of Eden.

One of the clearest verses on this is Jeremiah 2:13:

My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters.

To forsake God—the fountain of living water—is to turn away from the only true source of lasting joy.

Adam and Eve in Eden were meant to experience unceasing delight in God. But they loved what was in the garden more than the One who put them there. When Eve saw that the fruit was pleasing to the eye and good for food, she wanted God's stuff more than God himself. Adam did too.

That’s the curse of sin: forsaking the fountain of living water.

It’s turning to other things for joy.

And it gets worse: Jeremiah 2:13 continues:

You have dug cisterns for yourselves, broken cisterns that do not hold water.

That’s what we do.

The setting of this miracle is a wedding. When I officiate weddings, I often say: we're here to celebrate the love between two people, but there's an even greater love we need to acknowledge first.

I'll say to the bride: That groom is not enough for you. And to the groom: As lovely as that bride is, she’s not enough for you.

Because we were made to be filled by the love of God. That’s our true source.

When we put anything else at the center of our lives, it becomes a broken cistern—without water—causing us to be empty and restless.

He comes to restore joy.

And he comes to cover shame.

Where do we see shame covered in this miracle?

Let's look again at John chapter 2, starting in verse 6:

Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” They filled them up to the brim. And he said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast.” So they took it.

What's going on here? Jesus restores joy and covers shame using the vessels—six stone jars used for purification.

The number six often refers to the day man was created—on the sixth day.

Could it symbolize that these jars represent man’s attempt to cleanse himself? This was part of God's law—the old covenant—man's effort to present himself as clean before God.

But we can't ever fully satisfy the law; we fall short. Romans 3:23 says:

All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

And the law was never meant to fully solve the problem. It shows our need for a savior.

What does Jesus do? He fills these jars to the brim.

His life—his fulfillment of the law—is perfect.

And how does his accomplishment—his fulfilling the law—get credited to us? How do we receive his righteousness?

Look back at Jesus' conversation with his mother, when she said they have no wine, and he responds in verse 4:

“Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.”

His mother then tells the servants:

Do whatever he tells you.

People wonder about Jesus' harsh reply—some translations say, “Dear woman,” to soften it. But in Greek, he simply says, Woman.

He then states: My hour has not yet come.

This phrase always refers to his death in the Gospels.

When Mary says, “They’re out of wine,” he looks toward his own death—his hour—and responds, “I'm not ready to die.”

Why? Because in chapter 3, we learn that Jesus, as the Messiah, is the true bridegroom.

One of the most common biblical metaphors for God’s relationship with his people is that of a bridegroom and bride.

God is the bridegroom; we are his bride.

Whenever an attribute of God is highlighted, it teaches us something about ourselves.

The fact that God is the bridegroom—and we are the bride—means he longs for us like a groom longs for his bride.

In Revelation 19, we read about the marriage supper of the Lamb—the great celebration of Christ’s bride, the church.

So, Jesus, sitting at this wedding, is thinking of his own wedding feast—and he knows that before that feast, he must die to provide the wine—his own blood—so that the joy can flow freely at the coming wedding.

And this links to how Jesus' first sign echoes the story of Moses in Egypt. Moses' first sign for Pharaoh was turning water into blood—a sign of judgment.

It pointed to death—and judgment—on Egypt.

But Jesus’ first sign also involves water—water turned into wine—but it points to his own death.

He is willing to be condemned.

The filling of the jars of the Old Covenant represented the law’s righteous requirements. But the law alone leads to death.

To be truly cleansed—truly covered—we need the blood of Jesus.

In the Old Testament, the blood turned water into blood (the Nile), and after the exodus, the people found no water to drink at Marah.

Moses threw a tree into the bitter water, and it became sweet—a foretelling of the cross.

The water of the old covenant only cleans the outside; the wine—the blood of the new covenant—cleans us from the inside out, producing lasting joy.

Have you tasted it? It’s available to all. The only way to receive his joy is to accept his righteousness, paid for at the cross.

Come to him.

Conclusion

Let's pray.

Father, thank you for your word that points to a better Adam who came to Eden to reverse the curse. Thank you that you have made a way in the wilderness, that you have come to us, provided a covering, so our joy might be restored.

I pray many today would begin to experience that joy for the first time, discovering your saving blood.

It’s in Jesus' name we pray. Amen.