… the head steward tasted the water that had been turned to wine, not knowing where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew) … (John 2:9)
Jesus changes me into wine. Not tasteless water, but heady, sweet wine—cranberry-red, party enlivening liquor.
Like the servants at the wedding in Cana, my job is to fill the jars with water. I pour in a few buckets of kind words, and whatever generous acts I can muster. I often spill and leave the jars half full. It’s nothing miraculous as I struggle to dump in faithfulness during trials. Mine are quite unremarkable contributions.
Then Jesus comes to the party. There are no flashes of supernatural light, no angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus, but he turns my water into wine. I can’t name the exact moment of transformation. At some point, he simply raises a brow, or bends a smile, and my haphazard obedience is changed into the effervescence of love. My countenance sparkles with robust joy, finished in peace, and with hints of generosity. Heaven applauds and angels want a taste.
Like the wedding servants, only I know where the wine comes from. I’m certain that it’s nothing but a watered-down belief that I pour into the jars. Jesus causes the transformation. I can no more claim authorship of the beauty in my life than the servants in Cana claimed to be winemasters. They knew that turning the water into wine was all Jesus’s doing. I know that turning my callus heart into one of loving kindness is all Jesus’s doing.
I still have a few containers of plain water—trials that plague me. My assignment is to top the jars with faithfulness—and wait. The day will surely come when those, too, will be distilled into glory.
Prayer: Blessed Lord Jesus, make me into wine.