Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

More than 30 years had passed in the waiting. Three decades of anticipation. It felt like a lifetime. In the 40 weeks of gestation, there had been a lot of time to think. Wonder. Dream. Consider what it would be like to raise the Son of God. Would a glowing halo settle around His head at birth? Would He be the smartest, fastest, most advanced child in the neighborhood? Would He perform miracles as an adolescent? Become a religious leader in His late teens? His identity must be revealed eventually, but Mary had no idea how it would occur. Nor did she have anyone to ask. The only people who knew were her and Joseph, and no one would believe them even if they spread their story far and wide. 

For years, she kept the secret diligently. Partly for self-preservation. She had no need for the entire community to believe she’d lost her mind. No desire to be ostracized. No love of being fodder for the gossip mill. Also, Gabrial hadn’t given her permission to tell anyone. Not even Joseph. The angel of God had done that very task himself. Even her cousin Elizabeth had known without her saying. There was no one to tell. No one to share her life of suspense. No one else was waiting for her Son to publicly reveal His identity. No one but Mary. Mary was waiting. Had been waiting, wondering, watching for 30 years. It’s a long time to wait for something. (Luke 1:26-45; Matthew 1:18-25)

A long time to keep a secret. A long time to foster hope. Plenty of time to decide whether you misunderstood, misheard, were mistaken. Time to stop hoping. Time to quit believing. Time for doubt to take root and grow strong. Not for Mary. Her faith never faltered. Her hope never hedged. For more than 30 years she’d believed. She’d been watching Him carefully for signs of omnipotence since the day He was born. Not once had He done anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t walk early. Didn’t speak prematurely. Didn’t bring wooden animals to life. Didn’t touch and instantly heal the sick as a teen. Didn’t fill her cupboards at the snap of His divine fingers or clean her house with the wave of His hand. There hadn’t been even one indication that He was God’s Son. Although Mary believed without seeing, she knew others weren’t. The order of the day was and always has been sight before faith. No one would believe her account unless there was physical proof to back it up. And Mary was exhausted in the waiting. 

She was done with this. Finished. Her patience had taken flight. He was a full-grown man now and she certainly wasn’t getting any younger. She wanted to be there when His divinity overtook His humanity. She wanted to see His power displayed. She wanted to see Him take His rightful place among His people. She wanted everyone to know her Son was the Messiah. God in the flesh. Right now. Today. She’d push for it if only the opportunity would present itself. And then it did. 

Flitting in and out of the crowd at the wedding in Cana, Mary serendipitously overheard the frantic whispers of the servants. A catastrophe had occurred. The bridegroom would be enormously embarrassed, publicly humiliated, socially shamed. He hadn’t planned properly. Hadn’t counted the RSVP’s correctly. Hadn’t given the accurate number to the sommelier. The wine was gone. Completely. There was nothing left. No old bottles in the cellar. No new bottles in the kitchen. Not even a drop of champagne to toast the newly married couple. Things really couldn’t get much worse than this. And someone had to go tell him. 

There was an argument over who should do that task. The most comely female? The strongest male? The oldest? The wisest? The most trusted? No one wanted the job. It would surely deflate the host’s joviality. As they stood hashing it out, Mary saw her moment. Ignoring His protests, Mary grabbed Jesus’ hand and pulled him over to the arguing crew, determination evident in every step. Pushing between the two closest servants, she shoved Jesus into the deep end and gave Him the opportunity to show the people who He really was. Owning their attention by her presence alone, Mary simply said, “Whatever my Son tells you to do. Don’t argue. Just do it.” And they did. 

Working as quickly as possible they carried gallon after gallon of water to fill the six stone water jars. They weren’t small jars. It wasn’t a small task. It was huge. It was urgent. Muscles burning and chests heaving from the hurried exertion, they finally finished and stood before Jesus, awaiting His next command. Yet no one moved when He gave it. They weren’t sure they had heard Him correctly. They knew what they had just done. Poured water into jars. Plain water. Unfiltered. Unflavored. Unadulterated. Boring water. Washing water. And Jesus had just told them to draw out a cup and take it to the master of the banquet. Did He know what He was asking? Did He know the result of handing the host a glass of water in place of wine? Was He serious? Was He sure?

The look on Jesus’ face must have said it all. He was absolutely serious. He couldn’t have been more certain of anything. Gathering their wits about them, they collected a glass of water, selected a martyr, and stoically sent him off to deliver the drink. Every servant held their breath. Their stomachs churned. Their hearts quaked. The women squeezed one another’s hands. The men clenched theirs into fists. The master picked up the glass and took a tentative sniff. Then he sipped. Then he drank in earnest. A broad smile broke across his face. An excited light lit his eyes. The wine was fabulous! Where had they found it? Why hadn’t they served this first? He needed to go talk to the groom. And the servants, their exhalations audible, went back to work, but not without the knowledge they had been in contact with a power greater than that of any they had ever seen. And the disciples, those who Jesus had already called to travel with Him, those who tentatively believed already, believed in Him completely. (John 2:1-11)

Standing by the wall, watching the goings on, Mary must surely have had a twinkle in her eye. Her heart overflowed. What she had known and believed for three decades had finally been put into action for all to see. When she’d been tempted to doubt, tempted to fear, tempted to question her own experience with Gabriel and God, she’d pushed herself to keep believing. She’d been as patient as she could make herself be. She’d waited when she didn’t want to. Believed when her faith was whisper thin. Hoped when trust in God’s promise seemed futile. She had kept believing even when she didn’t immediately see action. And, at just the right time, in just the right way, Jesus had shown Himself and revealed the glory of God to those whose hearts were prepared to believe. 

It’s a space we have all occupied. The waiting space. Time and again. Maybe you’re there right now. Falling on your knees, praying and begging and crying, asking God to move. Act. Do something, anything. Now. Please. Sometimes He does. Immediately. Sometimes. Not always. Some requests appear to go unanswered. Days turn into weeks. Weeks become months. Months stretch into years. You are tempted to give up. Quit praying. Stop hoping. Give in to doubt. But you haven’t. You have kept praying. You still believe God will keep His promises. With your faith as threadbare as the knees of your prayer-worn jeans, you choose to hit the carpet in prayer one more time. You have chosen to trust. You have chosen to believe. Because you know that God is God. Always. Forever. From eternity to eternity. Today. Tomorrow. Next month. Next year. In every circumstance. In every moment. In the blind faith. In the clear sight. Even in the middle of the waiting. (Hebrews 13:8; Isaiah 43:13; Lamentations 3:25; Psalm 33:20-22) 

I don’t know what you are waiting for today. I don’t know how long you’ve been asking, begging, pleading. I don’t know how thin you’ve worn your faith, if your trust is wavering, if your hope is nearly exhausted. I do know, with absolute surety, that God hears you. Even when He doesn’t visibly act the very second you ask. Even when you don’t see a change in your circumstances. Even when things seem to get worse instead of better. God hears you. And the God, your God, who knows the end from the beginning and everything in between, is waiting for the exact right moment to bless you with the best possible answer. For you. For your circumstance. For the friend who needs Him. For your child who’s lost. For the situation that seems beyond hope. For the relationship that appears beyond repair. God is hearing the cries of your heart and prayers of your lips. He is planning. He is working. God will move. So keep the faith. Don’t quit believing. Don’t grow impatient. Be diligent in your intercession. Keep asking. Keep seeking. Keep knocking. In His time, in His way, God will show up, revealing His glory, fulfilling His promise, to those who believe. (I Kings 8:56; Proverbs 15:29; John 9:31; Romans 12:12; Psalm 18:6; Luke 11:9; I Corinthians 1:9)