When the Wine Runs Out

At Faith Baptist Church in Georgetown, Kentucky, I heard Pastor Bob Fox preach my aunt’s funeral service. He used the story of Jesus’s changing water into wine as a symbol of my aunt’s hope and growth after personal devastation in her own life.

So I am borrowing some from Bob, because we all want to have our water turned to wine.

The gospel of John doesn’t speak of miracles, preferring the word signs.  The actions of God’s power in the world through Jesus are not merely wonders, but signifiers that point to another reality.  And John, so that we don’t miss it, says that this first sign of Jesus manifests his glory.

In the funeral service, Bob talked about a pattern made up of a celebration, a grief, and then a better celebration.  In that pattern there is a manifestation of God’s glory.  God is present both in joy and in sorrow.  And in our sorrow, Jesus is working to bring us joy. 

For us, I would describe the pattern as the joy, the mundane, and then a better, renewed joy.  In that pattern too is the manifestation of the glory of God.  And like grief, our mundane times also are visited by God – He is present even then.  And in our mundane times, Jesus is at work to prepare us (in the words of Frank Lewis) for what He has prepared for us – renewal, service, a greater joy.

I don’t know exactly when the wine ran out for each of you reading this, and I don't know precisely how your life has manifested the symbolic lack of wine. For some, it has been disease or divorce or depression.  For others, it is a loss of enthusiasm for work or relationship or church.  For still others, it is simply the continuation of the same, the mundane.  And for all of us, it is our choice not to rely on the supernatural as we strive for our own independence, our own self-reliance.

 

To say that the wine has run out does not mean that you are dead, dying, living in sin, or ineffective.  Drinking water is perfectly acceptable – it can even be healthy.  Don't read this expecting a rehash of how you got to where you are now.  It does not matter. The point of the water-to-wine story is not the water; the points are the wine and the winemaker. 

The Problem – The wine has run out.

This is not just a problem for the drunks in the crowd.  It is not even just a minor social faux pas.  It is a big deal – the host at a wedding had an obligation to provide, and in that day, wine was required.  The host could actually be sued for a want of hospitality.

The Jewish rabbis had a saying, “Without wine there is no joy.” 

Of course, this is not just a story about a party.  It is not just a story about a wedding.  And it is not just a story about a lack of alcohol.

Our wine can run out too.   When we have no resources available, we tend to turn to diversion.

Note that John says “When the wine ran out…”  It is expected.  Our wine always, eventually, runs out.  We weary of doing good.  Note also that the wine ran out while Jesus was at the party. Just because Jesus is there does not mean the wine will not run out.

Frank Lewis has another favorite saying: “It is always too soon to quit.”  When the wine runs out, what do we do?

When the wine runs out, we turn to Jesus.

Mary could go shopping.  She could ask the neighbors to borrow wine.  She could start berating the help.  She does none of that.  She turns instead to the source.  She tells Jesus the problem, and then she manifests the great faith to say to those around her, “Do whatever He tells you.”

Mary does not know what Jesus will do, but she knows Jesus. 

Dr. Martin Luther King said, “When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds and our nights become darker that a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a great benign power in the universe whose name is God; and God is able to make a way out of no way, and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.”

Jesus does not just change things; He brings abundance.

Jesus does not get rid of the water. Nor does he always simply make the struggles and vexations of our lives vanish. Instead, He turns the water into wine, and they only know how sweet it is who have tasted it.

The response, “You have saved the best till now,” reminds us that the result is not just doctored water but changed substance.  Jesus does not mess around and redecorate.  Jesus transforms.

Tom Lane asks, “If Jesus could transform common water into wedding wine, spit and dirt into new sight, troubled sea into pathway, well water into living water…could Christ transform the waters of my life, shallow, murky, polluted, stagnant, sour, into a shower of blessing?”

Paul says, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”  Find that perfect will.  Feast on the abundant good wine.

One Overwhelming Thought after Boston and West

This has been a tough week. I write a week after the attack in Boston.  We have seen the explosions in West, Texas, a town through which I regularly drive, this week. 

The events in Boston and West have reminded us of intentional evil and accidental devastation. I write not about why God allows either.  I have written about that, and will again, but this blog is something different.

In response to Boston and West, there has been a seeming consensus, including in what I have heard and seen from many church leaders (thankfully, not from my own pastor): The heroism of bystanders in Boston who ran towards the explosions in order to save runners and the kindness of the citizens of West to families of victims have been praised as the only good to be seen, the only source of hope in the midst of these events. Social media has seemingly been filled with this quote attributed to Mr. Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always see people who are helping.’”


Do not get me wrong. I am in favor of kindness, heroism, and hospitality. I am glad there are helpers in the scary times. But these are not the greatest thing to see this week. Not every helper in Boston or first responder in West was a Christian. If kindness is all we Christians have to point to in a week like this, then we have nothing more than the rest of the world.

The greatest thing about this week is that Jesus offers life. If this week makes us forget that Christ is Lord, then we need to do some basic reexamination. Jesus knew we would have weeks like this when He said, “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Our hope does not spring from the kindness of strangers. Our hope comes from the One whom we worship, the One who sees our need and our despair and makes a miracle where there is none to be seen.

We are Easter people. In death, there is resurrection. In Christ, there is life. Even in terror and fertilizer explosions, there is hope through the One who has overcome the world.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blessed assurance control: That Christ has regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul.

It is well.

The Night Before Easter

‘Tis the night before Easter, and all through the town, not a creature is stirring.  No gladness is found.

Disciples each cower alone in their bed. They fear for tomorrow.  Their Master is dead.

And I, in my sorrow, my shame and despair, try now to forget what it was to be there.

I was there in the garden. I was there for the trial. I was there for betrayal.  I was there for denial.

I hid in the crowd as He toiled up the hill. I watched from afar as they closed in to kill.

Between other crosses, His rose in the sky, as though to allow me to look in His eye.

I heard Him cry “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And I turned away.

Disgraced, in retreat, from the Skull-place I ran. Still I heard hammers driving the nails in His hands.

So now, as my slumber by heartbreak is torn, the hour passes midnight and heads to the morn.

I hear, or I dream, that there is such a clatter that women are running to see what is the matter.

The dawn on the crest of the newly-bought tomb gives a luster of brightness dispersing the gloom.

Then Mary is startled by two men in white who stand there beside her and give her a fright.

They say, “He is risen, just as He said! Why look for the living among all the dead?”

I open my eyes: this cannot be real. This is an illusion that day will reveal

To be but a dream, science fiction, a lie. I surely must know, for I saw Him die.

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear but the face of the Master.  As I look, He comes near.

No door has He opened.  No window broke through.  Yet He stands right before me, the same Jesus who,
Spilling water and blood, was pierced with a spear.  He died just last Friday, yet now He is here.

His aura might cause me to ask who He is, but His voice, when He speaks, leaves no doubt: it is His.

His smile speaks forgiveness.  His arms open wide, as though I had never abandoned His side.

Why is this important?  What can it all mean?  His death on the cross is what washed us all clean.

But death could not cheat Him.  He’s fought, and He’s won.  His victory means our new life is begun.

 I follow His lead.  With His love I’m endowed.  I know I can trust Him, for he rose as He vowed. 

The grave cannot hold us.  Our souls will survive.  The world now is different, for Christ is alive!

How to Recruit Prospective College Students

Having just returned from taking my daughter Carolyn to visit six colleges this week, and having gone through eighteen official visits with my two older children so far, I fancy myself something of an expert on the subject.  In case you are interested in opening up your own university and trying to recruit students, here is the tried and true formula that is endorsed by every school we have seen:

First, you need a recent graduate of your school, preferably in his or her mid-20s, who cannot get a real job and so has hung around the old alma mater as an assistant admissions counselor, which means he or she reads a few thousand essays of 18-year-olds who want to come to this school and also that he or she gives the one-hour presentation about your school.  This assistant counselor should be good-looking but should make an obvious attempt to be just a little bit nerdy in order to appear academic - a sweater and glasses are required, and some other dweeby touch (like maybe a checked shirt with a striped tie) will complete the look.  One terribly corny joke is required.

Once you have this assistant admissions counselor picked out, you need to teach him/her the script:  "Here at ______ U, we are happy to welcome you and are glad you are taking the time to visit.  Let me say at the outset that if you are looking for a place that is just like all the others, then _________ U is not for you.  We are unique.  For example, we actually value undergraduate research, and we have set aside millions of dollars that is just waiting for you if you come to school here.  Our run-of-the-mill undergraduates have, in the last year or so, discovered the cure for fibromyalgia, redesigned Pringles cans, and developed prosthetic limbs for amphibians.  We know that our campus is where you will want to spend all your time, so naturally 100% of our students study abroad for a semester.  While we only have a few classes with over 300 students in them, we promise that every professor will know your name by the third minute of class.  Our campus is not too big but not too small, and it is located in the perfect rural/urban/suburban town/city, not too far from the action but not too close to distractions.  All our students were in the top 3% of their high school class, but we do not really think your high school grades are an important part of the admissions process.  Similarly, we do not overvalue standardized tests, and all of our students just happen to have made a 2300 on the SAT.  97% of our students are on need-blind, merit-based scholarships, but make sure to fill out the FAFSA and all financial aid information just in case."

Next, after this admissions counselor has finished, you next need very attractive and articulate undergraduates to lead campus tours.  There should be nothing remotely nerdy about these students, who should emit health and love for ___________ U in every breath.  Their script is also easy to learn:  "I love it here at __________ U.  I have to spend about 5 hours studying for every ten minutes in class, and that of course leaves time for my fraternity/sorority, my seven service organizations, my four intramural teams, the religious activity of my choice (which of course is completely optional but easily available here at ______ U), and my frequent dinners in the homes of my teachers.  The faculty here at _______ U have really been great to me, emailing me weekly just to check up on my grandmother's health, lending me a puppy when I am lonely, and giving me their spare household appliances.  Greek life at ___________ U is very unusual, since unlike most schools, we delay rush until the second semester and actually have friends who are in other clubs... at least, most people know people who are in other sororities, and I know of two people who spoke to unaffiliated sophomores last year.  We are a very safe campus, but just in case, we have emergency phones every fifteen feet on campus, and our university police force is made up entirely of Navy SEALs.  We offer a ride service on weekend nights for students who are... ahem... too sleepy to get themselves home.  Now, as we tour campus, I think those are academic buildings over there, but let me take you to each of our nineteen dining facilities, our all-you-can-eat Chick Fil-A, all three Starbucks, and our smoothie counter.  Fortunately, we have a great workout center that is larger than the administration building and library put together.  Here at ____________ U, we really focus on our studies."

Make sure that you have dozens of glossy fliers in plastic bags to hand out to the students.  They all say the same thing, so don't worry too much about which ones you give to which students. 

After so many meetings, I am glad my kids have such clear decisions to make.

Going Home Again

I don't care what they say - you can go home again, at least for a little while.

I moved to Nashville when I was eight years old.  I graduated high school here.  After law school and marriage, Gena and I came back here to live for thirteen years.  So I have lived here for 22 or 23 years of my life.  We have been back periodically over the last ten years since we left, and I always feel that I am coming home again.

I do not mean to disparage my current home town.  We have a good life where we are, with friends, good jobs, and a church family.

Still. if you ask me where "home" is, I will always say Nashville.

Staying with good friends.  Driving around the city.  Going to church.  It is home.

But home really is people.  Some people are out of town this weekend.  We haven't seen them all.  But we have seen plenty.  I will change the names here, since I have not asked permission, but my friends will recognize themselves.

Craig and Lisa shared all about their kids who are now in college.  I was in their wedding in a different state, and I have known him for many years.  There is nothing to "catch up on" when we get back together.  There is nothing discernable that has been missed.  We simply pick back up.

Greg and Norma immediately dive into conversation with us.  We have traveled together, raised kids together, gone through heartache together.  And now we sit and talk once again.

Peter knows me in ways nobody else does.  I don't exactly know why, except that he and I are cut from the same cloth.  We understand each other with nothing more than an exchange of looks across a room.

Leslie does not change.  I have known her since I was in high school and she was just out of college, and she and her husband Bob have always been something of role models for Gena and me.  She never changes.

I sat in the congreagation and looked up into the choir loft, where I had my place for years.  I saw dozens of faces, some new but mostly of folks with whom I sang and communed and grew and shared and lived.

We went to the hospital this afternoon.  It happens that while we are home, our friend Sharon has just had surgery, so we dropped in to see her and her husband Mike.  Another friend of a couple of dozen years, Rob, was there as well.

Lunch with several families.  Conversations.  Just seeing some faces.  Sam and Angie.  Stan and Mary.  Melissa.

The buildings are nice.  The streets are largely the same.  The scenery brings back memories.

But when I see and talk with and love on the people, I know that I have come home again.

Not-So-Deep Thoughts on a Saturday Morning

I sat down at the computer with grand thoughts of what I would write.  I have not blogged in a while, and it is time.  I am home alone this morning.  And I have been inspired by several different things.

My first thought was to write about character.  My impetus was the number of "cheats" one can find on the internet to help you win games like Words With Friends on the iPhone.  Character may be what we do in the dark or what we do when we are alone, but I am convinced that it is also what we do to win a silly game when our opponent is in another room or building or city and cannot see how we arrive at our next play.

But I did not really want to preach this morning, so that idea kind of petered out.

My next thought was to write about "Flash Mob Theology."  I was entertained and maybe even a little moved several times over the last few days by the video of the flash mob in the cafeteria at Belmont University singing "One Day More" from "Les Miserables."  Their musical theatre department is getting ready to put on the show, and as a means of advertising, I suppose, they put on this performance in the school cafeteria.  The video is not of the best quality (I suppose a cafeteria during lunch is a pretty technically challenging mixing task), but it is nonetheless inspiring in the earnestness of the students, in the reaction of the audience, and - to be sure - in the music itself.  (This song continues to be the high point - OK, one of several high points - of the stage musical.  I thought it was not nearly as moving in the movie, but others disagree with me on that, and that is not really the point of this blog.)

I think the beauty of the flash mob movement is not really the surprise factor or the "gee, other people will really like this kind of music if we do it well" shtick.  I think the real essence of the flash mob is doing something by yourself amongst an apparently unreceptive audience and finding like-minded believers who will join you in your song.  It is what we Christians discover again and again when we are just willing to start singing, literally and figuratively.

But I just don't have that much theological energy this Saturday morning.

I next thought I would write about why college kids leave the church.  I have one child in college and two more who will be there soon.  I read this very interesting blog on that subject this morning.  These are interesting thoughts, and I am sure all ten are true somewhere.  For churches like mine, however, the list gets less relevant the longer it goes. I am moved particularly by 8, 7, and 6 - we have to be teaching our kids the faith and we have to do it as a church. I hope, just because the rest of the blog doesn't appear to apply to us - because our pastor does not try to be hip and we don't quote Joel Osteen an we don't play U2 in the worship service, that we do not therefore assume the kids are all right and we don't need to change anything. I fear that churches like ours can easily compare ourselves to "those shallow contemporary mega-churches" rather than to a divine standard.

Our kids need to know the Bible better than they do.  They need to be free to ask hard questions within the church walls and have leaders who both are willing to answer and actually know how to answer.  We parents have to be willing and able to prepare our children for the world.

But again, that is getting both preachy and theologically deep, and as I said earlier, I am just not there this morning.

Instead, I sit in my pajamas at the computer with my dachshund in my lap.  She followed me up the stairs and asked as clearly as possible to be picked up.  (As I have written before, I never knew I was a dog person, but I am.) 

I have great kids and a 22-years-and-counting marriage and a satisfying job.  I write a blog that at least three of you read.  Life is good.

And that leaves me with this thought for a Saturday morning:  I do not always have to share Deep Thoughts, whether it is in teaching my Sunday School class or raising my kids or writing this blog.  If God gives me great things to say, I am happy to be the conduit, but sometimes my role is just to remind that life is good, that satisfaction is real, that gratitude is important. 

So enjoy your Saturday.  Pet your dog or hug your kids or tell your wife you love her.  Be thankful to God for giving you a mind to think Deep Thoughts and a life to enjoy.

And don't cheat at Words With Friends.

Seeing the Cross in the Star

It has been there for seven years.  It has actually been there for longer than that, I am sure, but I have just finished my seventh Advent in Broadway Baptist Church, so this is the seventh year for me to see the beautiful Moravian star that hangs over the choir loft in our sanctuary throughout Advent.

It is an unusal Christmas decoration, this Moravian star, and it never fails to catch my eye.  Yet it took seven years for me to notice the cross superimposed on this star.  Perhaps these phots taken with the relatively poor camera on my smartphone do not do it justice, but once you see it, you cannot miss it.  It is definitely there.  The star, for all its wonder and light, carries an unmistakable image of the cross.

You can see some of the outlines, but these pictures really are not very good.  If you are in the sanctuary, you can see the edges of each individual ray of the star, and so instead of just seeing the exterior perimeter, you can see the intersections that form, from certain angles, that undeniable cross.

It is a good message to take with us into the new year.  Christmas is beauty and wonder.  The star is a miraculous guide for those from far away to come and worship.  The times of Advent and Epiphany are pungent reminders of entry of God into the world... of Emmanuel, God with us.

But we cannot forget that this child was born to die.  We need to be reminded that perhaps the same forest whose wood was used for a manger may also have been plundered for the beams that were set at right angles to create a means of execution.  We remember what we know, that the fulfillment of the prophecy that He would save His people from their sins required the fulfillment of another prophecy: that without the shedding of blood there is no remission.

Through the beauty of Christmas, there always is the reminder of the purpose for His coming.  You always need to see the cross in the star.