Associate Minister
“Fill Our House with Hoping”
John 2: 1-11
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Let us begin today with a moment of stillness, as we hold on to these words from the Gospel of John: “Fill the jars with water.”
These simple words from Jesus transformed what could have been a moment of deep embarrassment into a profound celebration of abundance. As we gather in this season of Epiphany, we reflect on the hope that arises when all seems depleted—when the wine of life has run out, and we wonder how we will carry on.
The story of the wedding at Cana is a moment of quiet miracle—no grand gestures, no spectacle, but a transformation that points us to the heart of Jesus’ ministry. Here is the thing about weddings: they represent hope. Two people committing to love, to partnership, to dreaming of a future together. But at this wedding, that hopeful tone risks being overshadowed by scarcity. The wine is gone. The joy of the celebration is threatened.
Then Jesus intervenes. Not with judgment or a sermon on how they should have planned it better, but with an act of abundance. “Fill the jars with water,” he says. And the water becomes wine—not just any wine, but the best wine. In Jesus’ economy, hope is never depleted. There is always more to come.
This story teaches us something fundamental about God’s nature. God does not just provide what is sufficient but goes beyond, offering abundance. In a world where we are often taught to expect scarcity, where we brace ourselves for disappointment, this is a radical message. The good wine—the best wine—is still to come.
Here in Vancouver, we see both scarcity and abundance in sharp relief. This week the items from the Giving Tree that we collected during Advent were taken down to First United in the Downtown Eastside. We hear stories from there about the deep struggles of those who feel forgotten, whose lives may feel as if the wine has run out. Addiction, homelessness, and systemic neglect cast long shadows over this part of our city. It can feel overwhelming, even hopeless at times. But even in these places of profound challenges, hope persists.
Organizations like First United work tirelessly to bring light into dark spaces. They create moments of abundance through food, shelter, and care—offering not just resources but also the reminder that no one is beyond the reach of hope. These are the modern-day servants, quietly filling jars with water, trusting that God can transform their efforts into something miraculous. When we support such efforts, when we advocate for justice and care for the most vulnerable among us, we participate in that same miracle.
But let us not romanticize the work of hope. It is not easy. Those who work and volunteer in places like the Downtown Eastside face exhaustion and burnout. The problems they tackle sometimes seem so huge and so deeply entrenched that it feels pointless. And yet, they continue, because they believe in the possibility of transformation. Feeding one person or supporting one person one day might give that person hope to get through another day. They remind us that hope is not passive. It is active. It requires us to fill the jars, even when we do not yet see the wine.
Of course as I was writing this, I was thinking about the wildfires in California that have destroyed entire neighbourhoods and communities. Homes have been reduced to ash, and families left with nothing. For many, it might feel like their jars are completely empty. The charred remains of what once was can make it difficult to imagine a future. And yet, time and again, we see neighbours helping neighbours, strangers opening their doors, people helping each other.
Hope emerges in the ashes, not because circumstances magically improve, but because people choose to believe in a future where healing is possible. They fill the jars with water—taking the small steps needed to rebuild—trusting that God will transform their efforts into something greater. The fires are also a sobering reminder of the pressing need to care for creation. Climate change, fueled by human actions, has made these disasters more frequent and intense. Part of our calling as stewards of God’s creation is to address this crisis with urgency, knowing that our efforts, though small, can contribute to the renewal of the earth.
But what about when we feel depleted? When our jars are completely empty, where does hope come from? For many of us, the pressures of life—financial struggles, personal loss, health challenges—can leave us feeling like empty jars, with nothing left to give. It’s in these moments that we need to remember the servants at the wedding. They didn’t have to make wine. They simply had to trust and follow instructions, filling the jars with water, one step at a time.
Hope comes from remembering that we are not alone. It comes from community, from acts of service, from leaning into the promise of God’s abundance. Hope is not about denying the reality of our struggles. It is about trusting that the story isn’t over yet. The wedding guests didn’t expect the best wine to come at the end, but it did. In the same way, when we trust in God’s ability to transform, we find that there is more good stuff in store.
Think of a time in your life when you felt utterly depleted. Perhaps you felt like you had nothing left to offer, like the best had already passed you by. But then, something unexpected happened—a kind word from a friend, an opportunity you didn’t see coming, a renewed sense of purpose. These moments are glimpses of God’s abundance, reminders that even when we feel empty, perhaps especially when we feel empty – we are still vessels ready to be filled.
Hope, like faith, is something we practice. It is a discipline, a choice we make again and again. And it is deeply intertwined with gratitude. When we pause to recognize the ways that God has already provided for us, we strengthen our capacity for hope. The water jars at the wedding were not empty; they were filled with what the servants already had. In the same way, God begins with what we have, no matter how ordinary it may seem.
So how do we practice hoping in our daily lives? First, we start by acknowledging our own feelings of emptiness. Denying our struggles does not lead to transformation. It is only when we bring our whole selves to God—our fears, our doubts, our needs—that we make space for God’s abundance to flow. Next, we take small steps. Maybe it’s reaching out to someone we’ve lost touch with. Maybe it’s volunteering our time or resources. Maybe it’s simply pausing to pray, to sit in silence, to listen for God’s still, small voice.
Finally, we trust. This is perhaps the hardest part. We trust that God is at work even when we cannot see the results. We trust that the water we pour into the jars will become so much more – not because of our efforts but because of God’s grace.
As we move forward in this season of Epiphany, let us consider how we can fill our houses—and our communities—with hoping. What jars need filling in your life? What acts of service, however small, can you offer to those around you? And how can we trust in the transformative power of God, knowing that even when we feel empty, we can be vessels ready to be filled?
Let us also think about how we can extend this hope to others. Who in your life needs a reminder that there is reason to have hope? How can you be a source of encouragement, a bearer of God’s abundance? Sometimes, the greatest gift we can offer is simply to show up—to be present, to listen, to remind someone that they are not alone.
Let us not be afraid to bring our water to God, trusting that it can become so much more. Let us open our hearts to abundance, to the possibility of transformation. And let us, like the servants at the wedding, take the first step—filling the jars with water—and trusting in God’s grace to do the rest.
In the economy of Jesus, hope never runs dry. Just when we begin to expect the worst, Jesus reminds us that there is more good stuff in store. As we embrace this message, let us commit to being both recipients and agents of God’s abundant grace. Let us fill our houses, our communities, and our world with hoping, knowing that even when we feel the most depleted, we always have reason to hope, and there is always the possibility for transformation.
Prayer God of abundance, when we feel depleted, remind us of your presence. When our communities face scarcity, inspire us to act with hope and generosity. Help us to trust in your transformative power, knowing that even in the midst of struggle, there is room for transformation. Fill our jars, and fill our hearts, so that we may be vessels of your hope in the world. Amen.