Passage 📖: John 2:1–11

📺 Want to watch the full teaching on YouTube? Click here to view the January 17th, 2026 Lesson.

🎧 Want to listen to the full teaching on Spotify? Click here to hear the January 17th, 2026 Lesson.

👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson

Most of us expect God to show up in moments that feel holy, dramatic, or urgent. We imagine miracles happening in temples, not at dinner tables. In crises, not celebrations. With thunder, not whispers. But the first miracle of Jesus happens somewhere unexpected—at a wedding, in a moment of quiet lack that almost no one notices. No sermon. No spotlight. Just a problem, a request, and a choice to trust. And that’s what makes this story so compelling. Because it forces us to ask a question we don’t usually ask: What if God also deeply cares and works in all the ordinary places of our lives, and not just the dramatic ones?
This moment in John’s Gospel invites us to lean in, pay attention, and reconsider how the Kingdom actually breaks into the world.

Let’s Dive In

Last week, we explored how faith begins — not with certainty or credentials, but with a willingness to respond. In John 1:35–51, Jesus’ first invitation is simple: “Come and see.” The first disciples don’t have answers, clarity, or confidence — just desire. We saw that discipleship starts with proximity, that Jesus gives identity before achievement, and that honest doubt is not a barrier to faith when it’s willing to step toward Him. The Kingdom doesn’t move forward through people who have it all figured out, but through people willing to follow, stay close, and discover who Jesus is through encounter.

Missed the teaching? Click here to read or watch the full lesson.

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And 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. When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and 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.” This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.

This moment takes place three days after the calling of the first disciples (John 1:35–51), in a small village called Cana of Galilee, roughly 8–9 miles north of Nazareth.

Jesus has just begun gathering followers.

No miracles yet.

No public ministry yet.

No crowds yet.

Only a handful of disciples who have responded to a simple invitation:

“Come and see.”

And the very next place Jesus goes is not a synagogue…

not the Temple…

not a teaching hall…

It’s a wedding.

In first-century Jewish culture, weddings were among the most important social events in a community. They often lasted several days, sometimes up to a week. The entire village would be involved. Hospitality was everything. To run out of wine was not a minor inconvenience — it was a public failure. A lasting shame. A mark on the family’s reputation that could follow them for years. So when the wine runs out, this isn’t just a logistics problem. It’s a crisis. And it happens quietly. No announcement. No warning. Just a growing sense that something has gone wrong.

Mary, Jesus’ mother, becomes aware of the shortage. She doesn’t tell the host. She doesn’t panic. She brings it to Jesus. “They have no wine.” She doesn’t tell Him what to do. She simply names the lack. This is important: Mary brings the problem to Jesus before anyone else sees it — and before anyone asks Him to fix it.

Jesus responds in a way that feels almost distant: “My hour has not yet come.” In John’s Gospel, “the hour” always points forward — to the cross, the resurrection, and full revelation of His glory. Yet despite saying this, Jesus acts. Not publicly. Not dramatically. Not for recognition. Quietly. Through servants. Behind the scenes. This tells us something essential about how Jesus works: Even before the “hour” arrives, grace is already moving.

John gives us a specific detail: six stone water jars, used for Jewish purification rituals. These jars represent: Religious washing

External cleansing

Ritual obligation

They are not empty by accident. They are part of the old order. Jesus instructs the servants to fill them — to the brim. And without prayer recorded… without spectacle… without announcement… Water becomes wine. Not just wine — the best wine. ✨ The First Sign John ends the story with intentional clarity: “This was the first of His signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and revealed His glory.” This is not a random miracle. It is a sign — a window into who Jesus is and what His Kingdom brings. What’s striking is how the glory is revealed: Not through power over enemies

Not through judgment

Not through dominance

But through: Abundance replacing lack

Joy replacing shame

Transformation happening quietly

Grace exceeding expectation

And only a few people even know it happened: The servants. The disciples. Mary. The crowd enjoys the result — but misses the revelation.

When the wine runs out, Mary does something quietly powerful. She doesn’t panic. She doesn’t shame the hosts. She doesn’t criticize the servants. She doesn’t try to fix the problem herself. She brings the lack to Jesus. Notice what she doesn’t do: She doesn’t tell Him how to solve it. She doesn’t manage the outcome. She doesn’t explain the urgency. She simply names the need: “They have no wine.” And then she turns to the servants and says one of the most important lines in Scripture: “Do whatever He tells you.” This is profound. Mary recognizes two things at once: Jesus alone can address the lack — and obedience is required for the miracle to unfold. She doesn’t rush past the problem. She doesn’t spiritualize it away. She brings it honestly to Jesus — and then prepares everyone involved to respond in trust. This teaches us something essential about faith. So often, when we experience lack, we either try to control the solution or we avoid bringing it to God altogether. We want relief without surrender. Provision without obedience. Change without trust. But Mary shows us a better way: Bring Jesus the need — not the strategy. Bring Him the problem — not the plan. Bring Him the lack — and then stay ready. Because the miracle doesn’t come from identifying the problem. It comes from trusting the One who can meet it. And the same invitation stands for us today. Bring Him: the shortage you can’t fix, the tension you can’t resolve, the burden you’re tired of carrying, the place where you’ve run out. But don’t stop there. Be willing to do whatever He asks — even if it feels ordinary, even if it feels inconvenient, even if it doesn’t look like the solution you imagined. Because in the Kingdom of God, miracles don’t begin with control. They begin with surrender. Mary shows us the posture that makes space for transformation: Bring the lack to Jesus. Release the outcome. And be ready to obey. That is where provision begins. That is where the Kingdom breaks in.

The instructions Jesus gives at the wedding are undeniably strange. Fill six massive stone jars with water. Not wine. Not grapes. Not even a prayer. Water. Then, draw some out — and take it straight to the master of the feast. Imagine being one of those servants. They know the problem: the wine is gone. They know the risk: if this goes wrong, they’ll be blamed. And Jesus’ instructions don’t solve the problem in any obvious way. This is the tension we often feel with God. We expect His direction to make sense before we follow it. We want clarity, explanation, and assurance. But Jesus offers none of that here. He does not explain Himself. He does not justify the process. He simply gives an instruction and waits to see if it will be trusted. And this is where John’s Gospel quietly teaches us something essential: God does not ask for our understanding before our obedience. He asks for our trust. In John’s Gospel, there is a repeated invitation: “Come and see.” Not “Understand and then follow.” Not “Figure it out and then commit.” But follow first — and sight will come later. The servants don’t see the miracle when the jars are filled. They see it only after they act. Only after they obey. Only after they carry water where wine is expected. This is the order of the Kingdom: Obedience precedes understanding. Faithfulness opens the door to revelation. Courage to follow comes before clarity to see. So often we tell God: “If You show me, I’ll follow.” But Jesus keeps saying: “Follow Me — and I’ll show you.” You may not understand why God is asking what He’s asking. You may not see how this step helps. You may be carrying something that still looks like water — while everyone else is expecting wine. But this passage reminds us: Miracles are not explained into existence. They are obeyed into being. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is not to wait for certainty, but to take the next faithful step — trusting that understanding will meet you on the other side of obedience. Because in the Kingdom of God, you don’t see and then follow. You follow — and then you see.

When Jesus responds to the lack at the wedding, He doesn’t do the minimum. He doesn’t produce just enough wine to get them through the night. He doesn’t quietly fix the problem and move on. He doesn’t meet the need at the lowest possible level. He gives the best wine. The master of the feast is stunned: “Everyone serves the good wine first… but you have kept the best until now.” This matters, because it reveals something deep about the heart of God. When the problem is brought to Jesus and His instructions are obeyed, the outcome is not merely relief — it is transformation. Water becomes wine. And not ordinary wine — but wine so good it surprises everyone who tastes it. This shows us that God is not only concerned with fixing what’s broken. He is committed to renewing it. Elevating it. Restoring it beyond what we thought possible. So often, we come to God hoping for survival: “Just get me through this.” “Just take the edge off.” “Just make it bearable.” But Jesus is not a God of barely enough. When we trust Him with our lack and follow Him in obedience, He doesn’t just cover the loss — He brings something better in its place. Not always immediately. Not always how we expect. But always more deeply than we imagine. This is the pattern of the Kingdom: Obedience opens the door. Trust invites transformation. And God gives more than we asked for. So if you’re standing in a place of lack right now — don’t assume God’s goal is simply to return you to where you were. He may be preparing something richer. Deeper. Stronger. More joyful. Not just enough. Not just wine. The best wine. And it comes when we bring Him the problem and trust Him with the process.

The first miracle of Jesus doesn’t happen in a moment of desperation shouted from the rooftops. It happens quietly—at a wedding, behind the scenes, through servants willing to trust instructions they don’t understand. That matters. Because it tells us what kind of God we’re dealing with. Not a God who waits for perfection. Not a God who only works when everything is explained. Not a God who offers just enough to survive. This is a God who steps into human lack without shaming it. A God who invites obedience before clarity. A God who transforms ordinary faithfulness into extraordinary grace. At Cana, no one asks Jesus for a miracle. Mary simply brings Him the problem. The servants simply do what He says. And somewhere between water poured and obedience carried out, joy is restored—and it’s better than before. That’s the invitation for us. Bring Jesus your lack, not your strategy. Trust Him with the process, even when it doesn’t make sense. Take the next faithful step, even if all you’re holding looks like water when the world expects wine. Because the Kingdom doesn’t break in through control or certainty. It breaks in through surrender and trust. And when Jesus meets obedience like that, He doesn’t just fix what’s missing. He reveals His glory. He replaces shame with joy. He gives not just enough—but something better. So if you’ve run out… If you’re tired of carrying what you can’t fix… If you’re standing in a place of lack right now… Don’t assume God’s goal is simply to return things to how they were. He may be preparing something richer than you imagined. Not just wine. The best wine. And it begins the same way it always has— with bringing Him what you have, and trusting Him with the rest.

Blessings,

Michael

The world feels chaotic, but your news source doesn’t have to.

You can hide under a rock or spiral into the chaos… or you can subscribe to The Pour Over and get the news you need to know and the peace you crave.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, The Pour Over sends quick news summaries that are actually fun to read. Plus, each newsletter includes short biblical reminders to help you stay focused on Christ and eternity. Instead of fueling outrage or anxiety, the news becomes another prompt to rest in God and respond in faith.

Over 1.5 million Christians have ditched the doomscroll and found a better way to stay informed––Christ-first, anger-free, and (even kinda) funny.

Try it for free and check out their welcome email that’ll make you glad you did!

Sign up for free today!