Epiphany 2 2025

Text: “This, the first of His signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested His glory. And His disciples believed in Him.” (John 2:11)

First impressions matter. They shape how you understand a person, a place—sometimes even an entire story. You know how quickly that happens. Within moments, often without realizing it, you decide what something is really about and what it is really worth.

That is true not only of people, but also of how you think about God and His work.

John tells you that the wedding at Cana was the first sign Jesus performed. Not the first time His disciples met Him. Not the first time they followed Him. But the first sign by which He manifested His glory.

And where does He do it?

Not in the temple.

Not in Jerusalem.

Not in public debate or confrontation.

He reveals His glory at a small-town wedding.

The problem that arises is not dramatic or life-threatening. The wine runs out. No one is dying. No doctrine is under dispute. There is only embarrassment, quiet failure, and the looming sense that what should have been joyful is about to fall flat.

That detail matters.

Jesus does not step in to save a grand cause. He steps in to spare ordinary people from shame. And when He does, He does not merely provide enough wine to get them through the evening. He provides abundance beyond calculation. Stone jars meant for purification are filled to the brim, and the best wine appears last.

Yet most of the guests never know what happened.

The master of the feast praises the groom, not Jesus. The crowd celebrates without understanding. The glory is not announced. The miracle is not explained.

John tells you plainly who recognizes it:

the servants who obeyed,

and the disciples who believed.

Jesus reveals His glory in a way that requires faith to see it.

John does not present this sign as a standalone moment. From the beginning, it is meant to be read in light of where Jesus’ ministry is going.

This sign at Cana stands at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, revealing His glory quietly, through abundance and mercy. And at the end of His ministry stands the cross—the final and fullest revelation of that same glory.

What begins with overflowing wine ends with His life poured out.

What begins with joy preserved ends with wrath borne.

Cana is the opening note; the cross is the final, decisive chord.

At the wedding, His glory is revealed without spectacle, almost unnoticed. At the cross, His glory is revealed openly, before the world—not in triumph, but in self-giving love.

At the cross, Jesus does not merely sympathize with human failure. He takes responsibility for it. He does not simply repair what is embarrassing. He bears what is deadly.

He drinks the cup of God’s wrath poured full strength. He takes every last drop of judgment over your sin. Where you press God into the corners of your life—into what is convenient or manageable—He embraces His Father’s will in every way, even when that will leads Him to suffering and death.

And from that cross flows something far greater than wine.

From that cross flows forgiveness.

Cleansing.

Life.

Salvation.

The rites of purification no longer stand empty. As Scripture says, He has sanctified you, cleansed you by the washing of water with the Word, so that He might present you to Himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing (Ephesians 5:26–27).

Only now—after the cross—are you able to understand what Cana truly means.

That brings us back to our anniversary.

As we celebrate 150 years, the most important works of God among us will not be the easiest ones to list.

They will not be the ones that fit neatly on a timeline or plaque.

God’s glory has been revealed here

in sins confessed and forgiven when no one else knew,

in marriages sustained by forgiveness rather than ease,

in children baptized who later wandered, yet were not forgotten,

in saints buried in Christian hope when nothing else could be fixed,

in sermons preached to tired people who barely felt they were listening,

in prayers offered when nothing changed right away.

That is where the wine flowed.

That is where Christ was not a guest, but the Master of the feast.

And if you are honest, that is also where His glory has been revealed in your own life.

You are tempted to measure your life the same way you measure a congregation—by achievements, by productivity, by what worked, by what you can point to and say, “There. That proves it mattered.”

But much of what Christ does in you does not announce itself.

He forgives sins you barely knew how to confess.

He preserves faith when you feel distracted or weak.

He gives meaning to vocations that feel repetitive, ordinary, or even disappointing.

He remains present when joy is cut short and plans fall apart.

Like the guests at Cana, you often benefit from His work without realizing it.

That is why this is the Divine Service.

Jesus is not a guest here. He is the Master of the feast.

He does not come turning water into wine. But He does come in bread and wine. He still fills what is empty. He still gives the best gifts last.

And through those gifts, His grace continues to overflow into every corner of your life—into your marriage, your work, your suffering, your waiting, and even your dying.

This was the first of His signs, revealing His glory.

And His disciples believed in Him.

Behold that sign again.

Learn to recognize where His glory is revealed.

And believe.