TD Jakes - How to Identify Jesus
By the time we get to John chapter 2, which is where we’re going to focus tonight, I have always found it extremely fascinating that in chapter 1, he shows us the very divinity of Christ—that Christ is God incarnate, made flesh—God made human. Christ is the God-man, and we bear the wonder of His glory—the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. From that lofty pinnacle, that high place of understanding, we see that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself. Christ is not just a prophet as some religions teach; He is indeed a prophet but not merely a prophet. He is not just a good man, nor is He just a person going around doing good, nor is He just a miracle worker. In fact, He is God in the flesh.
The Bible says, I think in 2 Timothy, and without controversy, the greatest mystery of godliness: for God was manifest in the flesh—Jesus was justified in the Spirit, believed on in the world, and received up into glory. So, John chapter 1 deals with the God-man, not just the good man—Jesus Christ—and He was not only the facilitator of creation; all things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in darkness. Let there be light! The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.
Now, this is all talking about Jesus from this lofty pinnacle, dealing with the pre-incarnate Christ, and then in 1:14, we see the incarnation of Christ, which is an amazing development—that the Word would be made flesh, that God would come in human form, that God would honor the principle spoken of in Job: «man that is born of a woman.» God would humble Himself and allow Himself to be born of a woman and be made flesh and dwell among us—Emmanuel, God tabernacled with us. God is to dwell among us. Yes, He is the dwell among us God; He is not the God who dwells in sanctuaries made by hands or buildings. If God were dwelling in sanctuaries, we’d be in trouble right now for those who have services that are closed.
But God has never intended to dwell in sanctuaries; rather, He preferred to dwell among us. The dwell among us God, as described in the Book of Acts, becomes the dwell in us God: Christ in you, the hope of glory. The Apostle Paul speaks of the God who was afar, now dwelling among us, and ultimately, dwelling in us. He was afar; then He dwelt among us; and now He dwells in us. It’s powerful! He dwells in us without losing any of His omnipotence, omniscience, or omnipresence. He is both in me and around me; in Him, I live and move and have my being.
So, I am in Him, and He is in me. It’s difficult to understand, but follow me—I’m going somewhere with it. I said all of that to point out that we are standing on a perch in a high place, on a mountaintop of understanding God. We are standing on a mount of transfiguration; we’re standing in chapter one, on Mount Zion, in the manifest presence of God—the glorious, powerful God who then dwells among us. Okay, and from that lofty pinnacle, we go into John chapter 2. John chapter 2 opens up, and we see a party. We went from way up here to a scene that is the most human thing imaginable—Jesus and His disciples were at a party.
Now, if He were alive today, we would church Him; we would go on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, and start writing blogs about Him, asking, «What is Pastor Jesus doing at this party?» Everybody is getting drunk, listening to music, and having a great time. But, according to Jewish tradition, you must understand that they did not see everything as worldly as we see it today. Jesus was invited to a wedding, and He attended with His twelve disciples. So, here Jesus is with His twelve disciples at a wedding party.
Now, I don’t know if they were doing the slide and all the stuff we do now at parties, but we are clear that they were eating, and they were drinking. In this story, the governor who was at the feast mentions the fact that once people have well drunk—implying intoxication—they generally pour out the cheap wine. So we know that this was not just a religious party. We need not picture the Vatican or some sanctimonious, ritualistic celebrations like what we have as church people today. Jesus was cast at a party, just one of the people in the crowd with His twelve disciples, and His mother was there, and everybody was there. He wasn’t sneaking in; He didn’t go in the back door; He didn’t climb in the window—He was present.
However, it is just amazing to think about the fact that Jesus was at this party after being in chapter one in glory, surrounded by the host of heaven, creating the mountains, the seas, the oceans, the wind, and the waves, and then enveloping Himself in humanity. Wrapped up in the cape of flesh, He comes out and dwells among us, as we read in John 1:14. All of this is divine business—redemptive business, creative business. So, He is God in creation; He is Son in redemption. All of this kind of language is what we see in chapter one. In chapter two, He’s at a party—just a guest at a party, just one in the crowd, hanging out, not losing His sense of normalcy.
That is something that I think is lost on the contemporary church today; some sects of it in particular, more than others. Not all Christian people are like this, but some have lost their sense of normalcy in an attempt to be more like Jesus. They have actually become less like Jesus. They think being more like Jesus is to be sanctimonious, pious, religious, set apart, and as different as possible. But really being like Jesus is to be one amongst them. Jesus was so much like the people of His day in appearance and dress that when the Romans got ready to arrest Him, they had to hire Judas to point Him out. There was nothing outwardly different about Jesus.
There was nothing sanctimonious about Him; it was the Pharisees who were known for their long robes and long prayers, and all of the ritualistic things that they did. Not so for Jesus; He just looked like one of the fellows and was at a party in chapter 2. The celebration is going on, and in the midst of it, the Bible begins to tell us that His mother comes to Jesus and says, «Hey Jesus, we have a problem.» He states, «They have no wine.» Either they had more guests than expected, or the guests drank more than expected, or they were on a budget. For whatever reason, they have run out of wine. I doubt that they were totally on a budget, because for this kind of elaborate party—if you study Jewish wedding traditions from that period—a wedding could go on for days. The wealthy primarily were people who threw long, elaborate parties and could afford to have guests over. But, for some reason, they had no wine; they had run out of wine.
Jesus was kind of exasperated. John is the only one who lets us listen in on this conversation. Now, John is the only one; nobody else lets us listen in on this conversation, even though we know all the disciples were there. None of them talked about it—neither Matthew, nor Mark, nor Luke. But John, who perhaps by virtue of his youth is more open to sharing discretionary information, sees something valuable that occurs in this ordinary situation. God often does His best work in ordinary situations. It’s not always in pious places with steeples and stained glass windows. It’s not always amidst orthodox religiosity that God does His best work, but in plain, natural settings with ordinary materials—like fish and loaves of bread.
God often does His best work with ordinary substances, like wheat and grain. He often does His best work with hands full of meal. God often does His best work with things like a jawbone of an ass in the middle of a desert. God often does His best work with things right around us every day. Here we are in a very natural setting, having an explosive moment. We are even able to eavesdrop on what is almost a dispute between Jesus and His mother. She comes to Jesus and says, «Son, we have no wine.» He is now her full-grown son; He’s 30 years old. She says, «We have no wine,» and He responds, «Oh Mama!» Have you ever said that at all, «Mama, what am I to do with thee? My hour—wait a minute! My hour has not yet come.»
I’m really not ready to show them who I am yet. But because His mother already knows who He is and not only who He is but what He can do—nobody would know better than her; she carried Him and was impregnated during her virginity. She knows He is divine. She is now asking Him for the first recorded time to expose His divinity. And why not? Because somebody is lame or crippled? No. Not because someone is hemorrhaging. Not because someone is blind, or halt, or leprous? No. The big problem is: We have no wine. We’ve run out of wine. That’s a big problem! Jesus said, «What am I to do with you? My hour has not yet come.» This is not how I expected to make my debut! She doesn’t even respond to His rebuttal. She just turns around and speaks to the servants and says, «Whatever He tells you to do, do it.»
Look at the faith that she had! Even though she didn’t get the response that I’m sure she expected, look at the faith that she had to know that it was settled; something was going to happen. Whatever He tells you to do, do it! She knew something was going to happen and walked away. She didn’t stand around to see or watch it happen. It’s the first miracle. She doesn’t stand around to see how He’s going to execute it. She doesn’t supervise it.
A lot of us pray, and then we want to supervise how God handles it. We say we’ve given it to God, but we really haven’t given it to God because we try to boss God on how He should handle things in our marriage, our finances, with our children, our parents, our pastors, our leaders, our bosses, our jobs. We try to oversee God: «God, I want You to move her out of that position, and I want You to show everybody who she is.» No, no, no! She doesn’t tell Him how to do it; she doesn’t even tell Him what to do. She just says, «We have no wine,» and it is understood that it is her expectation that He fixes the problem. She now says to the servants, who have been standing over in the corner watching.
You would dare not get into this conversation as a servant! She says, «Whatever He tells you to do, do it.» Now, this is where it gets really good. Are you with me? This is where it really, really starts to get good. Suddenly, the Bible says in verse 6, «And there were set there six water pots of stone after the manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three firkins apiece.» The pots of stone were there for the rites of purification, which was normal, but they were empty. There were six of them. Okay, two or three firkins would be about 30 gallons of water. They had the capacity to hold.
I wonder how much capacity do you have? Are you asking for more than what you have the capacity to hold? All of us only have a certain capacity like the pots; we were only built to hold so much—only so much weight, only so much glory, only so much responsibility. Do you not know that God has measured your capacity? When God measures your capacity, it indicates how dangerous it is to compare ourselves with others who have different capacities. Your too much might not be mine; your too little might not be my too little. So you can’t always put your mouth into my business and tell me what I ought to do based on your capacity. God has measured your capacity, and as our days are, so shall thy strength be. God has equipped you with what you need to do what He wants.
You are to do what he did not bill you for; somebody else’s capacity cannot be your burden. You cannot let everyone dump everything on you, nor can you accept their assignments. The assignments of God are not always transferable, and you must recognize that God considers your capacity first before He does anything.