Clearing the Way

Sometimes I have trouble seeing the forest for the trees. Especially when it comes to "Bible stories" I've heard since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Especially when it comes to stories about things like wine and wedding banquets --not exactly part of my daily train of thought. So, I often pray for the Holy Spirit to show me what He wants me to notice in a passage, and to remove my know-it-all-ism (which is really that rebellious, self-indulgent idea I've read this stuff a thousand times and there couldn't possibly be anything new for me to glean). He mercifully --instead of zapping me into oblivion, which is closer to what I deserve --moves all those familiar facts to the side and grants me the privilege of the Word of Life, the truth that will free me in spite of myself. This morning, it was a glimpse into the significance of the wedding at Cana.

In John 2:1-12, God, through the Apostle John, tells us of Jesus' "first miracle" as He was beginning His public ministry. You may know the events in detail. Jesus attends a wedding with His mother and disciples. The banquet runs out of wine. Jesus' mother comes to Him and urges Him to do something. Jesus calls for water pots to be filled and transforms the water into wine of greater quality than what was previously served.

Here's where the trees parted for me this morning --verse 6 (Complete Jewish Bible):

Now six stone water-jars were standing there for the Jewish ceremonial washings,

These pots were used for ritual cleansing water, the water of cleansing under the Law, a temporary means of atonement; a means that, quite frankly, the religious teachers had adopted as being the end-all-to beat-all rather than a foreshadowing of what God would do. They had burdened the people with additional shoulds, and excluded people who, through no fault of their own were unclean and in need of compassion. They upheld the letter of God's Torah and despised the spirit of it. Jesus' first miracle, the beginning of His ministry checks that attitude: He takes the water of ceremony, a foreshadow, and transforms it into what would be --what is to us at our Communion tables today --a representation of the purification to come at the cross through His blood! Many Jews had put their faith in ablution as a means of acceptance, rather than faith in the work of God through the means given them. At a wedding on a Tuesday in Cana, Jesus shows them there is a better way; faith in Him and His future work at the cross, the remission of sin through His blood. Pots once standing prepared for cleansing in accordance with Torah now stood full of wine, representative of the blood that cleanses once for all!

And look at the words of the banquet master when he has tasted the wine; he seeks out the bridegroom and exclaims:

Everyone else serves the good wine first and the poorer wine after people have drunk freely. But you have kept the good wine until now!

The good wine! The Greek word translated good can mean "genuine, precious, approved." Not simply delicious, but of superior purity and quality. It had been kept back (or so he thought), through all the bottles of good but hardly the best wine, until the time the bridegroom had given the signal, until this moment.

The water always pointed to the blood. Through all the shadows, through all the symbols, until such a time as was appointed, the water served. But now, we place our faith in the genuine, the precious, the approved One who shed His blood for us, whose sacrifice we commemorate with the wine each time we celebrate the Lord's Supper; our thoughts and hearts turned toward the blood. The wedding at Cana, pointing forward, Law to grace; the Communion table pointing back, grace to faith. But lest we fall into the same trap as the teachers of Jesus' day, let us hold fast to the assurance the Communion table points forward as well, to another wedding, the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, which all the members of the Body will attend; the Bride of Christ. We will partake in our Bridegroom fully, and shadows will be no more. We shall know as we are known, the superficial and semantic pulled back to reveal greater truth, deeper significance, the better wine of our Savior.

 

Midweek: Step Twelve

Within the course of a week, a friend had been grabbed --an attempted abduction or rape? --and hit by a car. Praise God, neither incident left her much more than rattled. Why? she asked. Why did God allow these things to happen? She wasn't at all angry with Him; she didn't feel betrayed by the upset. She, like many of us, was merely trying to make sense of it all: believing "everything happens for a reason," we want to discover the reason. Is God correcting me in some way? Was there an opportunity for me to share the reason for my trust in Him with another? Did the resulting hospital visit reveal a larger medical issue that needed to be addressed? Did He provide me with a newer vehicle than the one that was totaled? Am I learning compassion for others in the same situation? Is my faith being tested? Have I met someone during this ordeal who needs prayer? If we've been in the faith any length of time, we go through our Rolodex of possible explanations --things we've learned from experience or the experiences of others, things we've learned from Scripture --and we seek to put some sort of meaning or objective to it all.

Amy Carmichael, Christian missionary to India, labored fearlessly and passionately to rescue children from India's caste and Hinduism's cultic systems. In her book, Gold Cord, Carmicheal writes:

We should have been as others who see without seeing, and never dream of what is being done out of sight, if it had not been for what was caused to happen on March 6, 1901.

What happened was Carmichael encountered a young girl who, because of poverty, had been given to the temple to be "married to a god." The little girl told the missionary the horrors of what Carmichael calls "a great secret traffic in the souls and bodies of young children." The missionary and her associates could in no way dismiss the account of the girl and searched for others who had experienced the evils of this "temple trade." They developed ways to rescue the tiny victims and minister to their broken hearts. Dohnavur Fellowship, a safe home and Christian family, was begun, and continues today --all because of what some might call "a chance meeting." But Carmicheal was determined to seek purpose. By her own admission, had it not been for such a meeting, they would have continued on with eyes blinded and hearts oblivious to the goings-on with regard to these vulnerable children. 

Step Twelve, the last step of Walking the Twelve Steps with Jesus Christ, attaches purpose to pain:

Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I try to carry this message to others with addiction and to practice these principles in all my affairs.

Call it "giving back" or "paying it forward;" whatever you may call it, this step gives purpose to all we have been through. It is redemption, to the extent we are able, of our bad habits, our past offenses, our failures, our pain, and our shortcomings so that others might be rescued. We cannot do the rescuing, of course, but we can introduce them to the One who can; we can set them on the course to cooperate with Him in transforming their lives as He has transformed ours. We can decide to disallow the enemy of our souls any further victory in our lives. We can draw the line and say, "This seems to not be a good thing, on the surface; but I know that 'All things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.' (Rom. 8:28) I will keep watch for the good and cooperate when He calls me." Even our powerlessness, the unmanageability of our lives, the wrongs of our past and the harm we have done can be used by a Mighty God to bring Him glory and give us a greater purpose as we continue to walk this path into eternity with Him.

The God Who Sees

The most recognized quote attributed to Andy Warhol is "In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes." Or something to that effect. Sadly, and quite ominously, I think, right now, we are only scratching the surface of what that fifteen minutes will look like. Our world is smaller through technology, and fame is more easily attained in that sense. The bar has been lowered as to what counts for being worthy of worldwide acclaim. Humanity is less averse to doing stupid or nefarious things to gain that recognition. And our attention spans are notably shorter. 

Isn't being seen important to who we are, though? From the womb, we seek to be attended to; some studies have shown that the cry of a child is perfectly tuned to some pitch or frequency that will provoke Mother to action. Some children naturally "perform" when told they are having their picture taken. From athletes to academics, we reward excellence with trophies and inductions and scholarships. At the very least, we depend on those who call us "friend" or "brother" to notice when something has gone a little off kilter with us in hopes they will help us in remediation. Not until Adam gives his wife a name do we learn his name (Gen. 3:20). Our identity depends on the presence of another.

El Roi, is the name of God with which we are first presented in Genesis 16:13:

Then she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, You-Are-the-God-Who-Sees; for she said, “Have I also here seen Him who sees me?”

The God Who sees. I'd heard the name years ago, and it always brought a special feeling of comfort to me each time I thought of it. I am not alone. God sees the pain in my heart. God recognizes my need. But where was the response? Where was Mother, swooping in to comfort me or the scholarship committee to reward me for my endurance in adversity? The name gave me hope, but response did not seem to be an immediate reality. 

God's notice of us is eternal, and with that, it has an eternal perspective. Like the mother who sees her baby struggling to roll over --grunting, fists balled, face red --and she does nothing; Baby must figure this out on his own. Or the scholarship awarded to another deserving recipient --a high school senior --when the remaining applicants are still in their junior year. When the brother or sister does not overtly come alongside us in our struggle, but prays, fasts, and quietly creates opportunities for transformation to occur. It is not that we are not seen, but there is much more at stake than instant relief or gratification. God is working in those He loves something much more eternal, of greater quality. As in the account of Hagar, when she encounters El Roi, she is not told her cruel mistress will be dealt with. The Angel of the Lord does not tell this poor slave girl (and pawn in Sarai and Abram's rebellious scheme) that she has every right to flee and He will protect her. He says instead, Return to your mistress, and submit yourself under her hand (Gen. 16:9). Return. Return to your current, difficult situation. Return to the place where I see you, but you are going to have to trust Me. Return to a place of submission to your mistress, yes, but submission, most of all to My plan, My timing. Return to a place of waiting and trust that I see you. God's promise to Hagar is for the future. Eternal notice; future response.

Look at where all of this "struggling to be seen" has gotten us. Look at the foolishness that is celebrated; the flurry of opinion, debate, vitriol, discontent, threats, and out-and-out brain rot that floods our devices by the second. This is man's effort to be relevant, to be noticed, to be "somebody." But our Creator God, the One who longs to call us "sons and daughters" and has made a way through Jesus Christ that it might be so, He sees us! He is El Roi! How much greater is that than chasing clicks on social media, or forever being known in pop culture as "Catch Me Outside Girl", or dying from a butterfly injection? God's response may not be visible, it may not be immediate, it may not be in accordance with human logic (thankfully!), but it is trustworthy. He is not cruel toward His children or inattentive. For those whose identity is in Christ Jesus, we are seen by the only One whose perfect estimation really counts, who will never slumber or sleep, and will do all He has promised. His vision is without defect.