Do Whatever He Says

“Do Whatever He Says”

John 2:1-11

Preacher: Rev. Mark Bartsch

Kobe Union Church

July 13, 2025

Today’s passage from the Gospel of John—the story of the wedding at Cana—is one of my favorite moments in Jesus’ ministry. It’s a beautiful, mysterious event, full of joy and rich symbolism. While it's set in the context of a wedding celebration, this story is about much more than just marriage. It speaks to something deeper—something every one of us wrestles with: how do we truly connect with God and trust Him? Not just with the life-shaking events, but with the small, everyday things that make up our lives.

Many of us, when faced with everyday, mundane problems, try everything under the sun, exhausting all human effort before finally turning to Jesus in prayer. Often, it’s only when we've tried every option and our backs are truly against the wall that we finally turn to God.

I think of a student at my school who was struggling to pass the Eiken 2nd-grade level test. He'd passed the Pre-2 test in his first year of high school but then failed the 2nd-grade test six times—a test he desperately needed to get into university. He was beyond discouraged. Now in his third year, with only one more chance, failing again meant he wouldn't get into his desired university. That's when he came to me and said, "Mr. Bartsch, please pray for me. Not the prayer you prayed last time to do my best. Pray that I will pass the test." Which I did. The Lord was good, and he passed by one point—one question changed his future. Of course, he thanked me, but I quickly told him, "Let's thank God." As motivated as he was to pray before the test, he was less so after he passed. Still, I hope that a seed of faith has been firmly planted in his life.

Prayer Isn't Just for Red Sea Moments

This passage isn't one of those "back up against the Red Sea with Egypt’s army bearing down on you" types of stories. Throughout the Gospels, we often see Jesus show up in people’s most desperate situations—moments of sickness, grief, demonic oppression, and fear. People cry out to Him when their child is dying, when they are blind or bleeding, or spiritually tormented. And in those life-and-death situations, Jesus responds with compassion and power. We know to go to Him when our world is falling apart, whether for ourselves or someone we love. But today’s passage is different.

There’s no medical emergency. No demon to cast out. No desperate cry for healing. It’s a wedding. A joyous party. A celebration! And the problem? They ran out of wine. Not so earth-shaking a problem.

To us, that might sound like a minor problem—an awkward hiccup in an otherwise happy day. We might think, "So what? Just serve something else instead. Maybe now they won't wake up with hangovers! It's not like they ran out of cake; that would be a panic!" But in the culture of the time, running out of wine at a wedding was a serious social failure. It wasn't just a party mistake; it brought public shame on the groom’s family and could cast a long shadow over the future of the young couple. Weddings were fundamentally about hospitality and honor, and wine was central to the celebration, much like wine is central to the Seder feast at Passover. Running out meant you hadn’t prepared properly. It could mark the beginning of a marriage with disgrace and profound embarrassment.

And into that moment of quiet, social embarrassment—not crisis, not tragedy—Jesus steps in. What He does next, turning water into wine, is not just a miracle of provision. It's a revelation of who He is. A sign. A quiet, powerful invitation to trust Him—not only in the storms of life, but in the ordinary, seemingly small disappointments as well.

Jesus' Quiet Power

But here’s what really grabs me about this story: this is where Jesus chooses to perform His first public miracle. And yet, it's not truly public, is it? Only His disciples, servants, and mother knew about it. It’s not in a synagogue, not during a raging storm, not at a funeral with a dramatic resurrection. Instead, it's at a wedding reception... to quietly save a family from shame and embarrassment. And Jesus never takes credit for it because that would shift the spotlight from the married couple to Him. And it was their day.

Why does He do it? Because He cares. He cares even about the small things, the quiet embarrassments, the needs that feel too minor or trivial to bring to God. And because this story isn't just about wine—it’s about trust. It's about how we bring our needs or concerns to Jesus and then step back and let Him be Lord.

Mary's Model of Trust

Mary’s Model of Trust. Mary, Jesus' mother (and yes, there are a lot of Marys in the New Testament!), models this trust so beautifully. She doesn't rush Jesus. She doesn’t dictate a plan or suggest a solution. She simply brings the concern to Him and then steps back: "They have no more wine." A natural question arises: how did Mary even know they had run out of wine? Many surmise she was closely connected to the groom's family, perhaps a best friend or relative of the mother of the groom, as it was the groom’s family’s responsibility to host the traditional six-day party that followed the year-long engagement. Regardless, Mary cares deeply about what happens to this family, and she knows exactly where to go with her concerns.

"They have no more wine." That’s it. Not a request or even a question, just a statement of fact. That’s all she says. No pleading. No micromanaging.

Remember, it's very likely that Mary and Joseph never received the full blessing of the community for their own wedding, having to rush off to Bethlehem and then to Egypt. When some people don't receive something important in their lives—like the blessing of a parent or affirmation from key figures—they can become bitter. Even if they don't say it, they might act as if no one else should receive the blessings they missed out on. But then there are those, like Mary, who, despite not receiving a key blessing themselves, work tirelessly so that others can receive that blessing. It goes without saying: Be like Mary. Be like Mary.

And even when Jesus seems to brush her off, saying, "Woman, why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come"—she doesn’t argue with Him. She doesn’t say, "You don't know what I had to give up so you could be here!" No! She doesn’t demand or try to guilt Him into it. Instead, she simply turns to the servants and says, "Do whatever He tells you." How can Mary say this with such certainty? It's because she trusts. She knows Jesus is going to do what is best for the couple, even without knowing exactly what He's going to do. Remember, she never even asked Jesus to do anything specific.

That’s faith. It’s not just believing Jesus can act—it’s trusting how and when He chooses to act. It’s letting Him be Lord, even when His ways don’t make immediate sense to us. In this, Mary echoes the kind of trust we see in the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. Hannah pours out her grief to God in prayer, asking for a child. She’s so distraught before God that the Priest Eli thinks she’s drunk and reprimands her. After clearing up the misunderstanding and getting Eli’s blessing, she goes in peace, trusting that what the Lord wants to do, the Lord will do. As Hebrews 11:1 reminds us: "Faith is being sure of the things we hope for and certain of the things unseen." I’m not asking you to have faith like Mary or Hannah, two of the greats. Only to have faith as small as a mustard seed and to see how Jesus can work with that level of faith.

From Ritual to Rejoicing

Then comes the miracle—quiet, understated, and profoundly symbolic. Jesus tells the servants to fill six large stone water jars, each holding 20 to 30 gallons. These jars were not just containers. John notes they were used "for ceremonial washing," part of the Jewish purification system laid out in the Law (see Exodus 30:17–21 and Leviticus 11:32–36). These jars were tools for external cleansing, washing hands, dishes, and feet before meals.

Crucially, these specific stone jars were chosen for purity rituals precisely because, unlike pottery, stone was considered impervious to ritual impurity. While clay vessels could become unclean and had to be broken, stone vessels remained pure, making them ideal for the frequent and rigorous washings required by Jewish custom. Their presence in this home speaks to the devoutness and adherence to the Law of the family hosting the wedding.

But now Jesus repurposes them. If you allow Him, Jesus can repurpose you as well, just like He repurposed Saul and turned him into the great evangelist Paul. Jesus doesn’t discard them or criticize the Law. He transforms them, just as He came not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it (Matthew 5:17). Just as Isaiah had foretold of the Messiah: "Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:19). These jars—once symbols of ritual—are now vessels of celebration. Water becomes wine. The ordinary becomes extraordinary. The old is fulfilled and made new. And this isn't just any wine—it's the best wine, as the master of the banquet declares. That too echoes the promises of the Old Testament: "On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine—the best of meats and the finest of wines." — Isaiah 25:6

Jesus is giving a clear sign that the Messianic banquet has begun. He is the fulfillment of God’s promises. He’s the One who brings the new wine, signaling a new era of God's presence and blessing. This also connects to the biblical principle that you cannot put new wine into old wineskins. For us, that means to truly receive the new wine Jesus has for you, you must be born again—a transformation of your very being to embrace His new covenant.

And notice how quietly Jesus does all of this. He doesn’t draw attention to Himself. He doesn’t step onto a stage. He doesn’t make a speech. Only a few people even knew what happened—Mary, the servants, and His disciples.

Why? Because Jesus came to bless, not to boast. He honors the joy of the bride and groom by allowing it to be their day. He doesn’t shift the spotlight to Himself. And in doing so, He reflects the heart of the God we see in Zephaniah: "The Lord your God is with you… He will take great delight in you; in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." — Zephaniah 3:17. What a picture of gentleness! The same God who parted the Red Sea also rejoices quietly over a wedding. The same God who thundered from Mount Sinai is now present at a small-town celebration, turning water into wine.

What Does This Mean for Us?

So what does this mean for us today? It means we can trust Jesus not only in our Red Sea moments—the desperate, dramatic situations—but also in our small needs, our quiet shames, our behind-the-scenes burdens.

It means we can bring our lack to Him—like the widow who poured out her last oil in 2 Kings 4, trusting the prophet Elisha's word—and let Jesus multiply it into something beautiful and abundant.

It means that when we offer Jesus our empty jars—our failed plans, our missed expectations, our worn-out routines—He can fill them with something new, something vibrant, something far better than we could imagine.

And crucially, it means that trusting Jesus means releasing the outcome. Letting Him choose the time. Letting Him choose the method. Letting Him be Lord of every detail, rather than trying to micromanage His miracles.

So let’s follow Mary’s example. Bring your concern to Jesus. Lay it before Him, whatever it is—big or small. Then step back and say, "Do whatever He tells you." Don’t micromanage the miracle. Don’t rush the timing. Don’t limit His power to your expectations or your preconceived notions of how He should act. Let Him take the empty places in your life—your old stone jars, your limitations, your unfulfilled desires—and fill them with something new, something extraordinary. Let Him be the Lord who meets not only your greatest needs, but also your hidden ones. Let Him transform what seems ordinary into extraordinary. He still turns water into wine. He still works miracles in quiet ways. He still saves the day—one jar at a time. Are you willing to trust Him with your "empty jars" today? 

Let’s pray.

Possible Questions.

1. Why do you think Jesus chose a small, quiet event like a wedding to perform His first public miracle?

2. 
   

Follow-up: What does this tell us about God's character and how He works in our everyday lives?

2. What do Mary’s words—“Do whatever He tells you”—teach us about trust and obedience?

3. 
   

Follow-up: How can we apply Mary’s example when we face situations where we don’t know what God will do?

3. What are some “ordinary water jars” in your own life—areas that seem mundane or unimportant—that God might want to transform?

Follow-up: What would it look like to offer those to Jesus in faith?

4. How do we typically respond to minor disappointments or quiet embarrassments?

Follow-up: Why is it sometimes harder to bring those small things to God than the big crises?