Our wedding was a blur.

Months of planning, and the whole thing was over in a flash. It's so hard to remember all of the wonderful details.

You know what I do remember? Who was there.

Family. Friends. Some of them driving hours just to stand in a room with us on one particular afternoon. Most didn't really do anything. But they came. And that memory has lasted almost 20 years.

I think that's part of why the wedding at Cana gets me (John 2).

Because Jesus is there. At a party, with his mom and his disciples, where surely somebody did the Cupid Shuffle. He isn't off in a cave somewhere meditating. He showed up.

And then the wine runs out.

That sounds minor to us. It wasn't. Weddings ran for days, wine meant joy and blessing, and running dry was a public embarrassment the family would hear about for years.

So Mary tells Jesus. And Jesus does something I have never quite gotten over.

He points at six stone jars and says fill them with water.

Twenty to thirty gallons each. A bathtub holds about forty. So picture five bathtubs, and somebody hauling water until every one of them is full to the brim.

Then the master of the banquet tastes it and says: everybody serves the good wine first and brings out the cheap stuff later. You saved the best till now.

This is amazing.

Nobody was going to die over this. It was an embarrassment, not an emergency. And Jesus stepped in anyway.

Somewhere along the way I think we decide God only handles the big stuff. The diagnosis. The job. The marriage. And the rest of it, the low grade stuff we carry around all day, we figure we ought to be able to manage on our own.

That's not what happens at Cana.

He cares about that embarrassing thing. Or the thing that isn't a crisis but still sits on your chest at 2am.

And he doesn't do the minimum. He doesn't produce one pitcher to get them through the toast. He makes a hundred and eighty gallons of the best wine anybody there had ever tasted.

So whatever you are carrying into this week that feels too small to bring up: bring it up.

The best wine wasn't behind them. It was still coming.

With you in the journey,
Josh