What's Up With Jesus' First Miracle?

Last night I listened to a message by Timothy Keller in which he gave a fascinating exposition on Jesus' first miracle: turning water in wine at the wedding in Cana. 

You should really listen to the whole thing, but I want to share two points from his talk that were especially interesting.

First of all, this miracle of Jesus buttresses the authenticity of the the Gospel account.  Consider: if you were an author charged with the publicizing of a powerful figure and fabrication of that person's biography, "you would never invent for your inaugural sign a miraculous solution to a mere social embarrassment [the master of the banquet did not plan well enough and ran out of wine]."  The only logical conclusion is that this event must have happened.

Second, Keller does what I consider to be a deft and accurate handling of the question: why this miracle?  I'm withholding a thorough explanation because I want you to listen to the whole message, but I will share one thought, in which Keller quotes another minister.

"Jesus Christ is sitting in the midst of all this joy, sipping the coming sorrow.  Why? Because there is no way that Jesus Christ can think about what it will take to give His bride the cup of joy and gladness without thinking about the cup He was going to drink."

The miracle of turning water into wine at that wedding feast was a profound foreshadowing of the excruciating passion that must occur before the joyful consummation of the Son of Man united with His Bride. 

Jump here to listen to Lord of the Wine by Timothy Keller

Three years ago, my oldest son (then almost 12) and I took a father-son trip to Colorado. We went to the Holy Cross Wilderness area near Minturn and hiked up Notch Mountain for a spectacular view of Mount of the Holy Cross. The real purpose of the journey, however, was to create something special for my son. At the top of Notch Mountain there is a small shelter house built from the surrounding stone. After a pretty strenuous hike all morning, I presented my son with three things: A journal, a knife, and a stone.

The journal contained transcribed letters from some important men in his life: grandfathers, uncles, friends. There were also a few pages from me. We wrote to him about the meaning of manhood and the priority of a God centered life.

The blade of the bone-handled knife was inscribed in Latin on both sides. One side read: Ego et rex meus (I and my God). The other side read: Contra mundum (against the world).

The stone had a very special significance. The previous year, I had taken a solo motorcycle trip to Utah and while I was there I gathered five water-smoothed stones from a stream up in the mountains. Now it just so happens that I have five sons. In my prayers for them, I have often thought of them as the five smooth stones David collected from the stream before facing Goliath. I imagine he intended each one to deliver a death blow to some nasty giant. Kind of in the same way, I pray that God would use each of my boys to scatter bad guys like doubt, compromise, fear, deception and darkness in people's lives. I told my son how that stone represented God's desire to use him to slay giants.

That evening, off the mountain, we had prime rib in Leadville and celebrated the day. The whole trip was hugely meaningful for both of us. I think it has contributed much to the way we communicate and relate to each other even to this day.

Which brings me to this: Within a few weeks, I will be taking my second oldest son on the same trip. I can't wait!

The longer I live and the more people I observe, the more I am convinced of the absolute importance of fathers to sons. Not just that they have one, but that they have one who pays attention to who they are and how they're growing, what they're good at and how they think, what their strengths are and where they're weak. I'm learning also how much I need these boys. They are teaching me so much, or perhaps God is teaching me through them. Either way, I would hate to go through life without them.

(N.B. - Since this post was written 7/26/08, it's 3 sons down, 2 to go!)

Great Grandpa John ~ A Repost

This is my great-grandpa John. I like this picture of him for a couple of reasons. First, it's kind of fun to imagine him standing there in the grass, waiting for this photo to be taken, little knowing that he'd have a great-grandson one day who would cherish the resulting picture. Second, this shot gives a great view of great-grandpa John's long arms and big hands. And that's cool because I'm built the same way.


I remember as a kid riding around in my grandpa George's (John's son) Chevy truck. Grandpa always drove below the speed limit, so I had plenty of time to observe things, and oddly enough, the thing that sticks in my mind is the way his hands held the steering wheel. This wasn't really a big deal until one day much later in life when I was driving and I happened to cast a glance at my hands on the steering wheel, looking exactly like grandpa George's. John, George and Blaine - the same hands.

So DNA has built into me reflections of my ancestors. I think our spiritual formation happens in much the same way. In fact, it's encouraged:

" Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me - put it into practice." Philippians 4:9and...

"Remember your leaders, who spoke the Word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith." Hebrews 13:7

I can very easily name for you the people that have passed on to me their "spiritual DNA." The ones I've watched since I was a child; the ones I've imitated and patterned my life after. Some of me came from part of them. These are the people that taught me how to pray, how to be honest, how to love God in every moment, how to be thankful, how to be devoted, how to be joyful, and how to love my wife. Role models are hugely important, but even more important is the responsibility to be one. The duty and obligation is mine to live circumspectly and wisely because I have sons to raise and other young people that are watching me very closely. Someday, they'll be driving along life's road and glance down at themselves and recognize something that they once saw in me. Hopefully, what they see will be a reflection of Christ.

Godly Parenting (Or Not) ~ Repost

I don't know how many times I've found myself praying that God would help me to be the kind of father He is. I mean, if I'm going to be a great dad (and with five sons I need to be), I must exhibit patience, wisdom, compassion, strength and offer protection, discipline, shelter and assurance.

I've read books on parenting, watched the videos, listened to the sermons. Most of it was pretty good stuff, but nothing has taught me more about being "dad" than paying attention to the Heavenly Father. I guess it's the whole "grace" thing. I'm convinced that one of the chief purposes of grace is to keep us appropriately humble. Further, Paul tells Titus that it's grace that teaches us to say "no" to ungodliness. Probably because through grace we realize how totally depraved we are (and therefore undeserving) and how precious it is to be called to salvation. So, it follows that as we say "no" to rotten parenting, grace can also teach us to say "yes" to parenting the way our Father does.

If any Christian would take a minute and observe the actions of the Heavenly Father in their life, it would quickly become apparent that God is GOOD at being a Father: He's always there for me when I need to talk, He's involved in my daily life, He's interested in what I'm doing, I can't hide anything from Him, He doesn't let any rotten behavior slide by without discipline, He's patient when I'm learning, He endures my fits and He is utterly dependable.

As humans, we'll never be perfect parents. As Christians, we have a perfect Parent. There could be no more appropriate prayer than, "God, help me to be a father like you are."

When Fathers Cry

My uncle passed away a little over a week ago.  He was my dad's little brother.  My dad asked me if I would do the memorial service, and I was pleased to do it.  I've actually done quite a few memorial services and funerals for my relatives - it's an amazing opportunity to preach the hope of Jesus to a captive audience of my loved ones!

The thing that was different about this weekend's service, though, was that part way through I lost my composure.  As a pastor/teacher I spend a lot of time in front of people using my finely honed (like a rusty pocketknife) public speaking skills and I've never had a problem "keeping it together."  Oh, sure, I've wept while talking, had to stop and take a breath when emotions were high, but never, never have I been stopped in my tracks by tears. 

The surprise came when I was reading through the things my dad had written for and about his brother.  It was so sweet, and I had almost gotten to the end of it when I glanced out at the faces assembled in the room and I saw my dad crying his eyes out.  And that was that.  I stumbled, teared up, tried to read some more, cracked, stopped, breathed long and low, and finally mustered up enough composure to just simply tell everyone how I didn't realize "how hard this was going to be."

What I saw in my dad in that moment was a tenderness I had rarely seen growing up.  He wasn't a hard man, just distant emotionally (at least from my vantage point).  I think I'm quite a bit like him. He's been an amazing grandpa: the best, really. And as we've both grown older I've learned a lot about my dad.  I've discovered what a huge heart he really has, and a sensitive one at that.  I've learned he's actually a very decent writer (don't tell anyone!).  I've learned that he loves people A LOT.  When I saw him crying strong, manly tears for his brother, I felt his sorrow and it crushed me.  I also learned, in that brief instant, more about being a man than he could ever tell me in words.

Acetaminophen & Anti-depressants & Jesus

I'm looking for feedback.

When I have a headache, I take acetaminophen because I don't really like that kind of pain.  When I'm uncomfortably sore from a workout, I might take ibuprofen or aspirin.  I know plenty of folks who live with chronic physical pain and manage it with meds. 

There are also many people who live with chronic psychological maladies.  Not the I-feel-compelled-to-run-around-lighting-buildings-on-fire kind of maladies, but (for example) legitimate depressive tendencies that can be managed by medications.  Oh, and I happen to be one of them.

My opinion has become that since our entire being (body and soul) as humans is corrupted by The Curse, we suffer not only physically but psychologically.  I'm pretty sure that when Jesus saved me, he didn't take away my headaches or my torn biceps tendon.  Makes sense, then, that if believers aren't delivered from physical infirmities (for the most part - but of course I concede that God indeed still heals and delivers in a miraculous sense when He chooses to), that many of us will still suffer from illnesses affecting the mind.  So I make the point that if a person suffers from chronic back pain, they should seek treatment to ease that pain.  Additionally, if a person suffers from legitimate mental depression, they should also seek treatment.  I am effectively lumping both mental and physical ailments in the same category, as far as the necessity of ongoing treatment is concerned.

In this space, I'm not looking for a discussion about misdiagnoses or diagnoses that are handed out too easily and quickly in the case of psychological handicaps.  I don't want to discuss addiction either, although that is a problem for some. Just looking for feedback on the few thoughts I've shared above.

Pain in our body that is not managed can become a handicap and a hindrance.  I contend that the same is true for properly diagnosed psychological illness.

Post Script - I should add that I recommend prayer no matter what the condition...:)

Rejoice & Lament

So many things stirring in my heart this week, yet so difficult to coalesce any two of them into anything that resembles unified thought. There has been death and grieving and failure and discomfort in relationships and hard work and hot weather. Therefore, I resort to music once again to point at something that the Lord is teaching and revealing to me.





Learn this lesson well, my friend 
There’s a time to rejoice and lament 
Every season will find an end 
All will fade and be made new again 

Standing on the rocks of the railroad tracks 
Feet calloused, eyes open, sun beats on my back 
As I gaze upon the unseen winds 
And they are wandering, whispering 
Wisdom that’s eternal 
From the heart to the mind 
To the hand to the journal 
Now the kernel of the seeds in the cleft of the rock 
And it’s watered by the winds 
Having power to unlock and 
Stop the clock of chronological logic 
With its homogenized systems 
That are dead and can’t dodge it 
Being deaf to the voice of the Almighty One 
Spirit illumines the dark like a fire 
Revealing the way that was hidden but is higher 
Now we must travel on the wings 
That will never grow tired 
Of searching the mysteries of God 
I said Father the feathers of my wax wings 
Fall away by the rising of the sun 
And I have descended when I was undone 
And I will ascend when your Spirit comes 
Because what’s been done and overcome 
Cannot be stopped by the power of any human 
Like the number of sand we will stand 
And we will fall, all 
In the face of an eternal call 
But those who call on His name 
In the midst of the pain 
In the guilt and the shame 
And the world full of blame 
And all the bloody stains 
From the unjust gains 
I learned all men suffer the same 
Because we’re wayward sons 
And all our jokes betray 
Our foolish hearts and our selfish ways 
But if we would turn to the Father’s grace 
We would never be the same 
This is an unseen land of a devastated soul 
That’s prepared in contemplative silence 
For the mighty working hand of an unseen Lord 
To come restore this land from its violence 
I said walk another mile 
Stare across the fields of grain 
This is how the prophets train 

Learn this lesson well my friend 
There’s a time to rejoice and lament 
Every season will find an end 
All will fade and be made new again