TURN water into wine
I’m not at a wedding. In fact, this feels more like a divorce. Every time I think about the way you betrayed me, my heart breaks a little more.
I trusted you. I confided in you. I told you my deepest secrets and you turned around and carelessly scattered them. Like a flower girl’s rose petals? No, there’s no wedding here. No possibility of reconciliation.
A confidante tells me that God binds up the brokenhearted. Restores relationships. She says our friendship will survive — be made stronger. Maybe even be purified. It’s too painful to think about trusting you again, but something within me sparks at this idea. Disappointment turned to something holy. Water into wine.
No, this is no wedding, but that’s where Jesus was when he blessed those six jugs of plain old H2O and made them something more befitting the occasion. Jesus saw possibility where others saw only limitation. He saw hope where all seemed lost.
I think of the Christ-spirit that turned the water to wine, the impossible into the sacred. This feels impossible. Forgiveness, trust, love — these feel utterly impossible to my broken, wretched heart.
But I try. Christ impels me to try. Christ empties my heart of disappointments and tenderly fills it with something miraculous. Something unexpected. Something worth celebrating.
No, it doesn’t happen overnight. The redemption, the purification, the utter transformation of this relationship actually takes years. But when I run into your arms with a heart set free from all that hurt, I imagine I hear music. We may not be at a wedding, but this reunion feels blessed. It must be. Christ still turns the water into wine.
Jenny Sawyer, October 2012
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Topics: Dating, Healing
I really liked the idea Jenny shared about Jesus seeing opportunity where others saw limitation. This reminded me of an experience told to me by a CSO member in Lome, Togo. We were in Togo just a couple of months ago for a youth summit there. The CSO was very involved in the planning of it. After the event, we visited the CSO and learn more about their activities, in addition to challenges they faced and how they were addressing them.
The process of getting the CSO and its activities registered on the campus is a long and ambiguous one. They shared a story of having to move a lecture to the local CS Society at the last minute after their authorization to hold activities on campus was questioned, even though they had paperwork demonstrating their legitimacy. The president of the CSO was summoned to the police station for questioning. The CSO member brought another church member with him and a copy of Science and Health and a Herald. They used this challenge as an opportunity to explain Christian Science to these policemen who didn’t know much about it. After everything was cleared up, the police chief mentioned how impressed he was of the CSO member and how he wished his own son was as dedicated and serious as he was. The student replied that the man’s son could only be a reflection of the divine and reassured him that God was speaking to his son as well. This impressed the chief and he thanked the student for sharing those ideas with him. They ended up leaving the Science and Health and Herald at the station. This is just one of many stories we heard from church members of how they were seeing challenges as opportunities to share Christian Science, instead of limitations to what they were trying to accomplish.
This story is exactly what I needed to hear today. Thank you.
This is today’s radical act challenge theme – and I loved reading all these deep experiences on this site here. While pondering about what could be mine, I see that sitting at my desk right now could be “just” water – what would it turn to wine? It’s my turning perspective and that helps me seeing this day as a special day, seeing everyone I’m involved with today as a precious idea and also not forgetting to see myself as a fruitful expression of the One origin, source, God – with all of that I’m still sitting at the same desk, but wow, with a whole difference.
I love this, Doris! This helps me with my day (and week), too! Thank you. :)
I’m loving the opportunity to catch up on everyone’s turning-water-into-wine moments, and I wanted to share how this Radical Act has been shaping my prayers recently.
As a pray-er, I’ve sometimes found it easier to respond to tragedies that seem like isolated events, rather than ongoing conflicts. But one of my commitments in 2013 has been to not give in to “prayer fatigue,” and to see each moment as a fresh opportunity to address even those world problems that seem never-ending or severely entrenched. My inspiration comes from this Radical Act!
See, I’ve realized that those situations that seem to require the most persistence are also the ones in which disappointment needs to be redeemed by hope, the impossible turned to the possible. And I have an example of how that can be done–I have Jesus’ example in this RA, and I have examples from my life and all of yours, too! A spiritual law which works in one case must work in all cases. So I know that the promise of disappointment turned to something holy must apply to every conflict, to every place in need of redemption, and to every heart in need of consolation.
Over the last few weeks, when I’ve seen reports about Syria, or about conflict between Israel and Palestine, or when I’ve read about seemingly intractable economic problems in the U.S. or elsewhere, I’ve asked myself one simple question: Am I seeing water, or am I seeing wine? I’m loving the way this has invigorated and inspired my prayers, even on issues that seem to have gone on “forever.” In fact, my old “fatigue” has started to seem pretty silly. Why wouldn’t I want to spend time each day listening to God tell me what’s possible, even in the face of the impossible? I’m grateful this RA has woken me up to the need–and my ability!–to do so.
Thank you so much.
It made me think of the concept of wedded bliss. We are forever “wedded” to the right ideas -our oneness with God. This spiritually wedded state translates into a greater sense of unity with the right ideas of ourselves and of others. We are never divorced from grace , dignity, joy and peace.
We can celebrate that!
Last week, driving home from spending Christmas with family, I enjoyed a really neat opportunity to turn water into wine.
The sun had set, and we had to put tie e chains on so we could make it over the mountain pass. Success! Chain on securely, still a bit of light lingering over the mountaintops…but the car won’t start. My thought was flying from peaks to valleys in a matter seconds – joy to anger to frustration. What’s more worthless than being stuck here, I wondered?
And right away, as I said that, I remembered this Radical Act. Worthless? Could there ever be a moment void of value? But I needed to go deeper than just a smiley face and a glass is half full. We really needed to get going again, and I wasn’t going to pretend it would just be ok to have a ‘valuable’ time stuck here overnight. But there must be value here somewhere…and as I looked around with this thought in mind, I saw the car behind us. They were clearly having some trouble putting their tire chains on, so I went to them and offered to trade helping them with their chains for them jumping our car. They said they didn’t have cables though. As I walked back up to my car to tell my wife what was happening, I had this really strong feeling that I didn’t need to trade them help for help; I could just joyfully help them with their chains. Then, a few seconds after I updated my wife and was walking back to the other car, she jumped out and told me she was pretty sure we had jumper cables ourselves!
I was able to help them with their chains; they were able to jump our car; we all had a safe, beautiful drive over the snowy pass in the moonlight. Hooray! But for me, the biggest gift was the realization that this Radical Act is not about somehow pretending that bad situations are somehow ok and that I just need to escape with a smile on my face to some ethereal other world. No, this Radical Act, for me, is about really being drastically available to see the good that I can give. Not to pretend that bad isn’t happening, but rather to allow myself to be so filled with good that I can see clearly, and see how to give.
This little experience has begun teaching me that God doesn’t change worthless things into things of value, or bad things (or bad health, or bad past…) into good things, good health, or good history. God saw everything He made, and it was good (Genesis 1). This Radical Act is about seeing what God has done, and exposing the lie suggesting a worthless creation.
Great ideas for our ski trip! headed up mountain right now.
Hey Kris! Have a great time up there – and give a great time as well ;-)
I’ve found snowboarding and interacting with folks up there to be a great opportunity to live Radical Acts – if you have any stories from slopeside times, I’d love to hear!
Cheers :-)
It is a crystal clear morning here in the mountains. The jagged edges of the peaks are sharp against the deep blue sky. The avalanche gun just went off. We are headed to the slopes. Prepping for today I am thinking about your idea of clarity. Keeping good in my heart and clear thinking as to how to give. Clarity is a great concept to ponder and study. Gotta get my gear on now…
I never expected to find love on this ski trip. But standing on a high crest of a mountain, looking down on surrounding mountain peaks, feeling the immensity of God, I know Love and I feel love.
In our ski group there is one who has special needs. Some are physical, but this dear one also has some emotional damage. I have spent years with her, talking, caring, supporting. Praying and listening moment by moment for inspiration.
The night before we hit the slopes I lay awake turning my thoughts from fear, feeling the grandeur of the star pinpoints shining in on me through the skylight above. Feeling the grandeur of God’s plan for all of us which is as natural and harmonious and orderly as the stars moving through the sky.
The next day from within a sea of red ski instructor jackets a voice called to me in tones of warmth that pulled my heartstrings. A wide smile and a greeting doused in an Aussie accent invaded our group, and our ski day began.
Disarming the almost constant verbal assault of complaint from our dear one, patience, kindness, and thoughtfulness asserted their dominance on our experience. Run after ski run.
On one trail our Aussie ski instructor set her legs in a sturdy snow plow and tucked our dear one right behind her leading her to a wide open safe place. And when our dear one was tired the instructor arranged a way down and made it fun.
I quietly reveled in God’s grace in action in so many ways and enjoyed capturing moments on my camera.
And then, in an equally quiet gesture the ski instructor paused, and looked at me, and said how do you do it. I replied well you know at some point in life it’s just not all about you anymore. She asked for my camera. And she said sit right here. And she took MY photo.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on that end of the lens.
The day came to a close with hugs and happiness.
Later I texted the instructor to thank her for her patience and kindness, and for her ingenuity in taking care of our dear one.
She texted back…”don’t let her be too hard on you….you are wonderful too.”
Gulp, my eyes misted. The years with my dear one have been difficult. But this person from another continent helped me see me again. The me God sees.
Love. I gave it. I felt it.
KRIS! Thank you so much for sharing this with us, and for giving love to those with you on the mountain. What a sacred opportunity. No one is outside of love, or unworthy, or unable, to know and give love. Your willingness to see the inherent value (the lovableness, the worthiness, the goodness) in those around you was a light set on a hill. Thank you for your courage in loving and in being willing to see love.
Those slopes are just as holy a place as a mall, a downtown, a field or a church. Your availability to see God’s work, and to respond to God’s work alone, is an inspiration no matter where I might be. Thank you so much for sharing.
Great story John with a simple and clear spiritual (metaphysical) rule. I’m gonna put it to the test.
It’s Christmas and a lot of family are gathered together. I am trying not to lose it when relatives say things that hurt. Three times I’ve had to retreat to the back room to get calm and talk to God. Radical Acts has been on my mind. I have been listening for inspiration to see the impossible turn into the sacred, the water into wine. So far, no blow ups.
And over the past few days as I’ve purposefully kept watch over my thinking, and prayed constantly, radically, some amazing things have happened. Like crowds parting at the store, happiness and joy surfacing unexpectedly, parking spaces just waiting for me. Leaning into it, as one Radical Actor described.
This reminds me of sailing. Putting the sail up and tacking. Meeting a stiff wind brings progress.
Always. Then next time is easier. Then later you lovingly talk someone through a similar situation. Makes it all feel worthwhile!
I’m feeling especially grateful for Radical Acts today. After a long haul on a project, I got some disappointing news last week. And then, this morning, I saw that a friend on Facebook had just announced her success on a similar project. Though I was happy for her, my heart broke a little. “Why not me?” I wondered. “Why not both of us?”
Something else hummed in my thought, though. It was that promise that I’d made to myself when I first wrote my story of water turned to wine. It was the promise that turning water into wine isn’t a one-time thing, isn’t some kind of special miracle we can only see in the lives of others. It’s live-able. Doable. Provable–no matter how tough the going gets. All the stories on this page are a testament to that.
And you know, disappointment is such a fruitless place anyway. Why stay there? Why wallow in water when you can taste wine?
I can’t say I’m there just yet. But I’m feeling grateful. I’m grateful that I have the impetus–actually, the divine demand–to see something different here, and to live in a place of hope. I’m also grateful that I have a community of fellow Radical Actors who will hold me accountable to doing just that.
Jenny, here’s a dose of comfort from a comment elsewhere on Radical Acts. Two TED links from Tricia Chantha that will turn your thought about this situation on its head. Listen all the way through both talks. There’s pure gold at the end of this rainbow.
Loving these, Nina! And I’m just now tuning in to the discussion where the links were first posted, which is wonderfully helpful, too. Like I said: very grateful for my fellow Radical Actors!
Thank you Nina, for posting the link to these.
After months of sending those little :)s to each other I thought my good friend and I were finally going to get together this past weekend. The cheery Christmas lights, the jolly holly tree with its bright red berries, a warm and wonderful community singing of The Messiah sweetened the anticipation of a reunion hug.
But with every email and text our plans fizzled. My face hardened into a :(.
My heart ached.
It’s a depressing Wonderful Life I thought. Especially this time of year. Those cute red bows on all the streetlights. Yuk. I started thinking about driving my car off a cliff.
“Radical”. “Yes, that would be radical”, I thought. “No, no. Radical. What would be the radical thing to do”. My thoughts sped to this Radical Acts site.
The radical thing would be to turn the :( into a :). Delete disappointment. Click on hope. I looked out at a nearby river with its flowing water sparkling in the sun and became aware of the warmth of a smile from the Great Spirit.
I can do this. I can smile too. I can.
Later in a little chapel service my family sang “Let every creature hail the morn On which the holy child was born, And know, through God’s exceeding grace, Release from things of time and place.” That’s right…the fellowship, joy, and happiness of friendship are always with me, and my friends, wherever our bodies are. These ideas have nothing to do with time and place. “I listen, from no mortal tongue, To hear the song the angels sung, And wait within my-self to know The Christmas lilies bud and blow”. I feel my eyes start to twinkle. I feel my face start to grin.
And on this morn, I feel in my heart, “the Lord Christ born.”
:)
Thanks Kristin! I felt your story. It’s very timely. I’ll take its ” Great Spirit” with me this season when the clouds gather, as they just seem to do, and look for the sparkle and the lily buds!
Thank you, Kristin! What a perfect message, especially for this time of year, when Toys ‘R Us is trying to convince us that it’s the only entity capable of turning “that frown upside-down.” ;)
In all seriousness though, I love the way you connected this Radical Act to *grace*–one of my all-time favorite qualities. It truly is grace that turns disappointment into hope, and gloom into glory. And that grace embraces each of us, each day. I love the way Mary Baker Eddy put it in her spiritual interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer: “Give us grace for to-day; feed the famished affections.”
Around the holidays in particular, I think we all need to know the power of grace to feed our “famished affections,” and to turn the tears (water) of loneliness into the joy (wine) of knowing our oneness with God. Thanks for being a shining example for the rest of us to follow!
Tricia..absolutely beautiful. Thank you for sharing about lovely Naomi.
I’ve never thought of “water into wine” like it’s been related here. It’s made me think of someone I’d like to toast!
Naomi was a tough 19 year old Latina girl who’d been her drug dealing dad’s camouflage since she was little. Taking a child on his runs was less suspicious looking to the police, so he thought, though it didn’t save him from serving time. Naomi’s mom worked two minimum wage food service jobs until her health gave out. Naomi’s friends, one and all, were pregnant before 18.
Naomi’s high school teacher, Paul White (a radical actor), offered her a way out - live with my family and receive a grant from a charity org to start a nursing program. Water into wine, right?
But after exactly one month in a safe neighborhood, with her own room, family dinners, rides to the mall, and people to give her consistent support, Naomi moved back home. Back to the parents who’d never given her even a bed to sleep on. Back to the dad who thought crack cocaine made a good party favor at her quinceañera. Back to a family perpetually in poverty and crisis, who couldn’t live without her.
I struggled not to despise these people who’d given their child nothing good and now expected everything. But back she went undismayed. Naomi was like that. She smiled a lot. She laughed easily. She talked openly of her life like it was normal, just her life. And she looked for the positive in the crappiest of conditions. A hint of wine perhaps?
She kept in touch with us, mostly through our son, Max who was 14 at the time and trying to find his way in middle school. Naomi was a veteran who’d seen it all and took it lightly. They sit in her room or his for hours, telling stories and laughing. Maybe a sip of wine after all…
After she moved home, Naomi was giving blood twice weekly for rent money when her paychecks didn’t cover it. On the bright side, she finally called the police on her gangster boyfriend, who went to jail. After some months came sudden news she’d moved to another town and was a live-in helper for an elderly woman. And she was taking classes. Then she moved in with a college student. Then started training and working as a medical technician, making decent money. She came to visit us a couple years after her brief stay with us: happy, independent, mercifully far from family, her life her own. A miracle from where I stood.
As the opening story to this radical act so poignantly states, we witnessed what Jesus championed - hope where all seemed lost. Disappointment turned to something holy. Water into wine.
And . . . it doesn’t happen overnight. On any given day in LA, a reporter stands by a fresh chalk outline on a sidewalk in a neighborhood like Naomi’s and tells a tragic story about people like her family, making viewers shake their heads or shudder. I was one of them. But now I know Naomi, who turned bitter water into wine, blessing our family in the process.
In fact, we felt so blessed by knowing her that we opened our home to Ricardo. But that’s another story . . . .
Oh wow! This is such a gorgeous story about an amazing woman. When I think of the perseverance she showed, the courage, the willingness to press on in spite of the obstacles, I’m just in awe. I love the way Naomi’s experience is a promise for each of us–that as we draw on those God-given qualities, they inevitably overwhelm our lives. Disappointment replaced by hope. Beauty for ashes. Water into wine. Thank you for sharing this!
Thanks Jenny for recognizing Naomi’s courage. I heard the following quote in a talk recently and it made me think of Naomi and, yes, even her parents, who I must humbly include in the “arena”, trusting their path to God. I sure don’t want to be “the critic”.
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” From “Citizenship in A Republic” by Teddy Roosevelt
Last night at church, a friend related how she’d prayed when her sunglasses had gone missing. Maybe that sounds like kind of a funny thing to pray about, she said, but then she added that it didn’t seem all that strange to her when she began to look at it as an opportunity to feel closer to God and to experience more of God’s presence. (She found the sunglasses, by the way. An idea came to her about where they were–a totally unexpected place. And when she went to look, that’s exactly where she’d accidentally left them.)
I loved this experience because it encapsulated for me what this act of turning water into wine is all about–those moments of closeness to God. Those moments of sanctity, of knowing His allness, and feeling that allness encircling us, loving us, guiding us, and meeting all our needs–yes, even the most mundane.
I had one of those moments myself earlier this week when it seemed like bureaucracy was going to stand in the way of something I needed to have happen right away. I was dealing with a state agency, and the woman on the phone was not particularly helpful (or nice). When I got off the call, I was really agitated–feeling frustrated and helpless. But I knew the red tape wasn’t hopeless. Jesus’ life showed us that we can turn to God in *any* situation and see the beauty of God’s creation (wine!) right where lack or disorder (water!) seems to be.
So I did. I prayed, affirming God’s goodness, and the completeness of that goodness–embracing me and everyone. And I prayed to feel His presence–that assurance that I *must* have everything I need because I’m connected to Him. I’m not some little mortal “down here,” waiting for the big giant hand of God “up there” to reach down and help me. Instead, God’s nature, and the nature of creation as made and ordered by Him, mean that everything is already lovely and productive and harmonious. I knew God could open my eyes to that true vision.
Well, about ten minutes after I’d been praying this way, an idea occurred to me about a step to take–a step that resolved the whole situation quickly and relatively effortlessly. Sure, you could say that maybe that idea would have occurred to me anyway. But what made this a water into wine moment was the way my thought was transformed about the whole situation–even before I saw a favorable outcome. And actually, feeling more of God’s presence ended up being a more lasting reward than the resolution of my bureaucratic nightmare. (Though I am grateful for that, too!) :)
Hey Jenny! Thanks for sharing this story – I love how elegantly you stated this: “what made this a water into wine moment was the way my thought was transformed about the whole situation-even before I saw a favorable outcome.” Isn’t that what healing is all about? Think about the servants at the wedding Jesus was at, when he asked them to go ahead and pour out the water into the guests’ cups. They hadn’t yet tasted – they did not know what was going to happen – but they responded to the gentle authority of Christ and lived out their trust. This seems to me to be implicitly tied to the Radical Act “Walk on Water.” Feel the closeness – even the oneness – of God and God’s work, and live out that confidence.
Are we perpetuating a belief in or reliance on the presence of worthlessness, limits, red tape – even the ability to lose stuff?! Or are we willing to feel, trust, and live the sanctity of our communion with divine Life? We’re at a glorious feast :-) let’s drink up!
Yes! That’s so true, John. I’ve often forgotten about the servants in thinking about this story, but as you point out, they were willing participants before they knew the outcome. Goes to show that whenever we’re wholehearted witnesses to the Christ-spirit, everyone involved in a situation is given the gift of comfort and trust–even before a favorable end result appears. That’s as good a reason as I can think of for saying “cheers!” :)
I just have to shout out a big HALLELUJAH! for a water into wine healing I had this week.
I’ve been really taken with someone for three months now. Someone I have to see pretty often. I’ve fished around some, but he doesn’t seem interested. Yet my feelings haven’t simmered down a bit.
And I’ve prayed, oh Lord I’ve prayed. Prayed especially to see harmony. Because the scariest thought is not that I’m not loved - I feel plenty loved by God - but that there could be such a severe imbalance in God’s world. Me adoring. Him ignoring. That’s not God’s creation.
Finally, the situation became downright painful. Ever checked out Mary Baker Eddy’s definition of “fear”? It includes the word “desire.” Fear we’re not going to get what we desire. I was choking on it.
So I called a practitioner, who worked with me for three days straight. I slept a lot. Once, cried buckets. And came out a different person. It wasn’t about the guy, or all the guys before him. (Hint: it never is!)
Now I swing by him every morning — “Hey there!” as chipper as can be. Cuz I feel great and don’t much care what he’s feeling or thinking.
And here’s the best part. Last night I had a dream about a different guy, from way long ago. Honestly I still dream about him pretty often, and never without a feeling of longing, conflict, and betrayal, which was the big issue between us.
But this time it was totally different. In the dream he called me “sweetheart.” I turned to a girlfriend and said, “What’s up with that? He’s been married for years!” Then he tried to give me a gift - an old, sorry-looking gift. I handed it back and said, “Thanks but no thanks.” And went on my way. Carefree. Care free.
I can feel the celebration from my crown to my toes. Perfect harmony. Water into wine. HALLELUJAH!
Wow! I love this story–the way something disappointing has turned into something far better, blessed, and beautiful than you ever could have expected. Sometimes I think the hardest part is that desire–wanting too badly, hanging on with white knuckles. But here’s our reward (as you demonstrated!) when we lift those desires up to God–hand over the jugs of water, so to speak:
“Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds” (Science and Health, p. 1).
Definitely some exalting (and exulting!) going on in your post, Serafina. Love it.
I think it’s also interesting the way we sometimes get “invited” not to accept and enjoy a healing.
In the last few days, the guy I’ve been so taken with suddenly started throwing me little bits of attention. Irregularly, as if to keep me off balance. It seems like an invitation for me to drop all the God stuff and get sucked back into feeling good or bad based on another person’s behavior.
Thanks but no thanks. That’s what I said in my dream to that old boyfriend with the sorry-looking gift. I’m going to hang out happily with God — and wait for a man who knows his wholeness, and who’s wholly present.
Now that’s a healing!
“It seems like an invitation for me to drop all the God stuff and get sucked back into feeling good or bad based on another person’s behavior.”
Oh gosh, Serafina. I totally related to this. And it made me think: Isn’t this where the word “radical” comes in to living Jesus’ radical acts? I feel like, in every healing I’ve had–every opportunity to turn water into wine–I’ve reached a place in my prayers where I have seen something clearly about God and my relationship to Her, and it’s precisely at that moment when whatever issue it is I’m dealing with tries to get my attention again. Maybe it’s–as it’s been in your case–someone starting to behave the way I hoped they would. Or maybe, in the case of a physical healing, it’s the issue starting to resolve. I’m not saying the human can’t pattern the divine, but I know for myself that the truly radical part of a radical act is being so satisfied with what God is doing that we simply can’t get sucked into wanting a single thing from anyone or anything else. That moment of pure, childlike trust–the complete embrace of all God is doing for me, and my conscious gratitude that I don’t need a single thing more–is really how the water turns to wine, isn’t it? Because then we’re seeing reality, and it is beautiful!
Or, as you put it, it’s all about hanging out happily with God. I like thinking about it that way. :)
A brief update from my recent endeavors to continue turning water into wine…
When I’m praying about something, and nothing seems to be moving, I’ve often found it helpful to ask myself the following question: What am I doing that Jesus wouldn’t do? Or, the flip side: What would Jesus be doing in this situation that I’m not currently doing?
One answer that’s come to me recently is that I am sometimes doing something that Jesus never did: I’m getting frustrated. I’m getting frustrated because I’m only seeing the water, not the wine, not even the possibility of wine. I’m seeing lack and disappointment where Jesus would see abundance and holiness and the presence of God’s goodness.
I can’t think of a single time when Jesus got frustrated. He never asked God why something bad was happening or tried to figure out why evil seemed to be operating. Instead, he only saw the wine–only bought into the possibility of the kingdom of heaven at hand. And where, in the presence of the kingdom, could there ever be room for frustration?
I’m coming to see–albeit slowly–that frustration is a decoy, a distraction that would keep us from turning water into wine. It would keep us from transcending those moments of matter-based limitations, turn an opportunity for celebration into a vortex of woe.
That moment when I recognize frustration for what it is, though? Wow. That’s when water turns to wine right before my eyes. More on a couple recent transformations soon. In the meantime, I’d love to hear others’ experiences!
With respect, Jenny, I can think of not just one, but multiple times in the Bible when Jesus got frustrated, and in some cases was very direct in his expression of that frustration! And while this may sound weird, some of those moments have been precious to me, in that they’ve kind of fulfilled the definition of Christ for me: divinity embracing humanity. It’s been helpful for me to remember that Jesus wasn’t trying to be superman, he wasn’t saying, “I can do this but you can’t.” So in that sense, the passages where I’ve seen his frustration come through have actually been quite comforting — especially if I was feeling frustrated with something.
Just this last Wednesday, at church, one of the passages that the Reader said so jumped out at me that I had to write it down immediately and look it up later. It’s not one of the times I was just referring to, about Jesus, but something speaking to the concept of frustration/anger in general. It’s Ephesians 4:26-27. The King James renders it as “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: Neither give place to the devil.” It so jumped out at me on Wednesday night, I had to look up some alternate translations. The NIV has it as: “‘In your anger do not sin’: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.” The New Living Translation has an even better end to it: “…for anger gives a foothold to the devil.”
How this relates, for me, is that it tells me it’s okay to be upset with difficult circumstances. It’s okay, really. But that there is a way out of it, and that way isn’t through “sin,” which could be any sort of negative response. What impresses me about Jesus is not that he wasn’t frustrated. I actually see him becoming profoundly frustrated with people in many situations. But what’s impressive is how he worked through that… and so quickly, too. Oftentimes this didn’t take him until nightfall (before the sun goes down), but he could handle it instantaneously.
And actually, even though I’m disagreeing with you, that’s where I see a point of coming together between what you said and what I said. I love what you said about frustration being a decoy. I don’t think it’s the case that Jesus didn’t feel it, because I see him as being able to relate to and understand just about any possible human emotion, but that he already knew how it was a decoy rather than a solution, and so moved through it immediately.
Hi Gordon,
Isn’t it funny how inspiration comes to us? It has meaning that’s very specific to our need, but is sometimes difficult to translate for others–to put into words that really articulate the inspiration’s precise message. So thank you for this opportunity to clarify.
I know Jesus had his moments of frustration–especially with his followers, who could sometimes be a little dense. But the message I got had more to do with Jesus’ approach to the various problems he encountered. Of course, I’m not in his head, and we can never know what exactly he was thinking in any given situation. But one thing I think his healings universally convey is Jesus’ willingness to wholeheartedly embrace God’s view. When presented with the five loaves and two small fish in the face of thousands of hungry people, Jesus didn’t get frustrated and think, “Geez, God, couldn’t you have given me a little more to work with here?” He was immediately willing to thank God for His abundant supply for His children–even though the five physical senses offered a totally different story. When presented with the news that Jairus’s daughter had died, Jesus didn’t get frustrated and wail to God, “WHERE WERE YOU?” He saw, instead, that divine Life *was* there–had always been there–and that Life was the only thing that was or could be going on.
And so on.
For me, at least, the biggest obstacle in living Jesus’ radical acts is not having that kind of surety, that kind of rejoicing and trust that God is on the job and that His creation is intact and perfect. That’s where the frustration comes in for me–getting taken in by an opposite view–and that’s where Jesus’ lack of frustration (and consistent, joyful embrace of reality) is something that spoke to my heart.
Jenny,
Thank you so much for clarifying. After reading your response here, then re-reading your original post, I think I’m getting what you’re saying now. You are absolutely right… Jesus was NEVER frustrated with God, Love, Divine Principle. He was always trusting God completely, he always knew that everything was well, and he was always seeing the inspiration instead of the lack. Ironically, most of the stories I can think of where we see Jesus expressing his frustration (Mark 9:19 is one example), he was frustrated at other people for not having that same sense of complete, unwavering trust in God that he did! Almost as if to say, “c’mon guys, why aren’t you getting this yet?” I’m glad to hear that you’ve “got it” already, and that it so speaks to your heart. :)
I feel honored and blessed to have gotten to witness this graceful conversation. I really wanted to reply to your initial comment, Gordon, but I just kept feeling like this was for me to appreciate and learn from, but not to jump in on. This is an issue I have wrestled with myself (trying to understand the balance of frustration / anger / passivity / self-righteousness, all of which have tricky connotations for me individually). I was really glad to see your comment, because it brought this into sharp relief for me! Thank you!
So often in my life, I have felt a willful need to ‘make things clear’ and in this case, it wasn’t even my own posting I wanted to make clear, but Jenny’s! Of course I know every instance is individual and relies on the inspiration of the moment :-) but this was clearly a moment for me to just watch God’s work. Jenny, your reply was so embracing and respectful, and I can just see the inspiration radiating as we all strive to let go of that which is not ours.
So, I’m grateful to see the radical healing nature of gathering together in an environment like this! Thanks for sharing the living of church with us all :-)
What would you do if your ex showed up on your doorstep, almost a year after having completely shattered your heart, asking for you to take them back again? Would you be able to forgive the incredible pain the separation caused you, or would you turn away? Would you allow fear to prevent you from learning more about Divine love, regardless of the decision you needed to make?
It wasn’t until two weeks ago that I discovered what true forgiveness means. For months I had thought that the situation with my ex needed healing, but I had been so stubborn and self-righteous in my thinking that I was actually preventing any healing from taking place. I had harbored an enormity of pain in my heart for months, and did very little to gain a grasp of the situation metaphysically. Every now and then I would think about him in church, with an uplifted feeling. Aside from those moments, however, all I could do outside of Church was dwell on the reasons why he wasn’t the right one for me, how he didn’t measure up, why he wasn’t “good enough” etc. My own inability to forgive prevented myself from moving forward, past the phase of playing the victim with a broken heart.
Fast forward to mid-October, when we’re both living in the same city. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in almost a year. He’s on my doorstep, having just walked me home from dinner that night. He’s standing there, with his heart open, trying to find the words to tell me that he wants to get back together again. Out of my own need for self-preservation, I ignore what he’s trying to say to me, kiss him tenderly on the cheek, and head inside for the night. The moment I shut the door, however, the seams of my heart began to burst, and I started crying hysterically. The experience of seeing him again had been so emotionally charged for me that I cried, and cried, and continued to cry. All of the fear and critical thoughts that had ruminated in my mind for months were brought to the surface. It was clear that this relationship, which had been so shattered, truly needed healing. I couldn’t pursue a relationship with anyone until I had forgiven him first. Above all, those moments I had spent in church, where I allowed the Christ to penetrate through the clouds of smoke in my consciousness and resurrect my thoughts towards him, had actually yielded significant results. He had changed in all of the ways that he needed to change, and, most of all, he had proved so worthy of forgiving.
It’s taken a couple of weeks of real, consecrated prayer to get to that place where I feel peaceful about my relationship with him. While I still struggle from time to time in seeing the situation clearly- from a spiritual standpoint- progress has undoubtedly been made. The biggest lesson I have learned from this experience is that in order to forgive him, I needed to forgive myself first. I needed to be compassionate, and accept responsibility for the ways in which I had pained him. Through atonement (the action of making amends for a wrong one has done) and repentance (sincere regret or remorse), I was able to raise my consciousness above the human history of events, and literally let go of all of the pain I had held onto. Water was truly changed into wine.
Great experience, Alanna. Thank you for your honesty. I like the way you brought out the role of repentance in transforming water into wine. A Sunday School teacher once shared with me that repent can mean “change your mind.” I love how that describes the action of the Christ–changing our minds, redeeming our limited vision of situations, so that we can see the presence of something holy. What a beautiful way of thinking about this Radical Act!
Gorgeous Jenny – thank you so much. I could feel the word “redemption” throughout your post.
Yes! Redemption! What a wonderful quality to discover in this gorgeous story. Redeeming a sense of worthlessness (water at a wedding?) into the presence of true value. And Jenny, I love what you said about the impossible turning into something sacred. Are we willing and humble enough to go to Christ to discover that redemption and yield to the presence of the sacred? Or do we think we have to kick and fight to make things conform to some preconceived notion of how things have to go?
We recently hosted a concert headlining some touring artists, and featuring some local musicians as well. We advertised a lot, talked it up, prayed…and we just KNEW it was going to be a success. The evening rolled around, the bands got set up, a few people showed up…and that was it. I felt I was legitimately expecting 60-80 people, and we got 13. I was so disappointed for the artists, for the people who didn’t come and were missing the show, and for our budget. As I was praying during the opening acts, I kept hearing this quiet message: “Does this show depend on you? Are you in charge of the musician’s success? Are you responsible for the blessings the audience will feel?” The answer was clearly no…but I didn’t want it to be! I had wanted to be the one who made this show a success, and now I wanted to show my sorrow to the artists for this not being a success, supposedly demonstrating my involvement in the concert. But finally I yielded and allowed myself to just be present to see what was really going on.
I am so grateful. It was a remarkable show. The love of all the musicians for the music, the message, and the audience was tangible. In my closing remarks as MC, it was so clear that the only takeaways from this concert were going to be the blessings of knowing how loved we all are, and I was able to sincerely share my hope that we could all take what we loved from this concert, and share it with others – to be the stone thrown in the water that creates so many ripples. Afterward I heard from all the musicians about how challenged they were at first, to see the tiny crowd, but how grateful they were for the prayers supporting the concert and for the love they just felt pouring through them. They were willing to see the success inherent in the presence of good, and that willingness just spilled over onto all of us.
It is so GOOD to allow yourself to humbly ask to see the presence of good, instead of thinking we have to make it!
This is great: “Redeeming a sense of worthlessness (water at a wedding?) into the presence of true value.” Recently, I have been struggling in my prayers to help a friend who seems burdened by the belief that his life is worthless. I can see so clearly that his life is anything but worthless, but it’s been difficult not to give into the spiral of emotion that would have me feeling sad, maybe even a little frantic, that he still seems to feel this way.
However, your story, John, and specifically this line connecting turning water into wine with that “presence of true value” that is the truth about who each of us is, has really woken me up to the fact that *I* am not responsible for turning the water to wine. It’s Christ. Christ shows us, each of us, that true value–present right here, right now. And Christ is so persuasive, so effective, that no “water”–worthlessness, impossibility, disappointment, etc.–can possibly remain.
Thank you so much for this very helpful and timely reminder.
YES, Jenny! It is always about Christ and Christ’s message. You know so clearly that this dear friend’s life is not worthless because you have seen the Christ shining out of his life – and this means it is not up to you to make him see it. You can just persist in treating him as he truly is. What a gift, to be able to treat him with the confidence of knowing he is God’s beloved son.
I was praying recently about what it is I actually DO, when I am praying for someone in the course of my healing ministry. Am I helping God? Am I prescribing mental prayer pills, or suggesting some kind of mind-over-matter regimen? No. My prayerful treatment of that individual is really encapsulated in simply turning to God to see how SHE has treated them, is treating them. We have the assurance that the water – the sense of worthlessness, sickness, decay – is actually not there at all, because God would never treat His children like that. The wine – the value, the wholeness, the vibrancy and actual LIFE expressed – is all that is here.
We can so confidently drink it up!
That childlike trust is so key, John. Thank you for bringing that out. A child really sees possibilities everywhere–no dream is too big, no person impossible to love, no situation where we can’t find joy. And of course, this childlikeness is really Christliness–the ability within each of us to find the divine spark in any moment, whether it be mundane, or overwhelming, or ordinary. I love the idea of the impossible turned to something sacred. That’s something that has proved so applicable to so many situations in my life recently. I’m excited to share more water-into-wine moments soon…and to hearing everyone else’s!
THANK YOU, Jenny! This story took a couple reads for me to really feel, and I am in awe of the graceful way you described Jesus’ outlook: “Jesus saw possibility where others saw only limitation. He saw hope where all seemed lost.”
This is not a superhuman feat. This is the simply trust of a child in their parent or care-taker.
My recent quest has been about learning to live Radical Acts in all the moments – not just a few ‘big’ ones through the week. This Act, and that description you shared of Jesus’ outlook, feels like the key to open that door. Am I trusting God and simply allowing Her presence to illuminate all the moments? How could I NOT see limitless opportunities for living Radical Acts – foundational acts?
Thank you for illustrating your discovery of this trust – looking forward to hearing more!