In the early Church, Lent was the season when fresh converts to faith prepared for baptism on Easter Sunday. Their lesson plans throughout those 40 days arose from the cornerstone of Christianity – Jesus Christ: his life and ministry, his death and resurrection; his widespread hospitality and his care for the vulnerable; his nourishment for the hungry; his nonviolence in the face of injustice.
“Repent of your sin” was his invitation. “Love and serve the Lord your God with all your heart” was his command. And with his next breath, “Love and serve your neighbor as you yourself would want to be loved.” Love like your life depends on it. Because it does – in this world and the next.
As another Lent begins here in this place, so also will Jesus Christ be our guide – for us who gather in worship and leave to live our faith, for a group of young people preparing to confirm their baptismal vows this Easter. Together with those first saints and sinners of the Church, let us rediscover what lies at the heart of Jesus: freedom, love, mercy, grace, and peace – all undeserved blessings that intend to be very good news for us all.
And the Good News doesn’t end there: Emulating Jesus and embodying his teaching and example ground us in who and what God created us to be. God’s Good News really is good news! Joyful! Effervescent! Like fine wine saved for the climax of celebration. Which is how John opens his Gospel: Not with the ashy-ness of Lenten repentance and 40 days of desert temptation but with an intoxicating miracle of face-saving proportion. Indeed, news of this Kingdom of God’s Heaven is so good that it catches us by surprise.
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.”
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him. (John 2:1-11)
It’s hard to wrap your head around the image: Jesus standing in a sweltering banquet hall, a Red Solo cup dangling from his fingers, cooling off after dancing the Macarena, the Electric Slide, and the Beer-Barrel Polka. The One whom we at Christmastime proclaimed the Prince of Peace – Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God – as it turns out has got the moves. Boogie, oogie, oogie.
The party is at its tipping point, at that moment when one of two things will happen: Either the exhausted revelers call it a night and head for home, or they find their second wind, and the party really gets lit. On the dance floor, the high-heeled shoes come off; Aunt Bernice busts those moves she hasn’t used since college, and the first notes of the Chicken Dance bring everyone to the dance floor.
But instead, something terrible happens. Horror of horrors, they’ve run out of wine. And in steps Jesus to the rescue. And why not? The essence of Jesus’s ministry is true goodness – beneficial, delightful, celebratory. And the Lord’s first miracle of John’s Gospel unfolds purely to keep the good times rolling. What good news! There’s still more! Even better than we imagined! For us and for our family, friends, and neighbors! The good wine has been saved until last. And God’s love is so good – the Good News is so great – that the taps will never run dry!
Because that’s precisely who Jesus is. He doesn’t have to begin with defeating evil – Jesus well knows that ultimately evil doesn’t stand a chance against a God who loves disco and line-dancing. Evil doesn’t stand a chance against a God who is not only not afraid of scarcity, but equally so a God who laughs in the face of scarcity. Evil doesn’t stand a chance against a God who absolutely will never let an empty cistern or full tomb have the final word.
Evil is predictable, but the Lord our God loves a surprise, and the plot twist is always the same: God’s expansive goodness overflows. Every. Single. Time.
If all of Cana’s nuptial impropriety and biblical inebriation offends your sensibilities, then let me try this another way. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field,” Jesus declares in the Gospel of Matthew. “It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown, it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” (Matthew 13:31-32)
Like a mustard seed, Good News grows from the smallest seed into the tallest tree. Like an unruly weed, or fine wine saved for last, the Good News is abundant and cannot be contained. Even if images of weeds and wine make you uncomfortable, trust that you can take them to heart, because the Word of the Lord is always deeply rooted in goodness and love, and they are always worthy of celebration.
Celebrate with some high-schoolers in Ohio, as they respond to the question, “Share something good that’s happened today?”
Can we be Good-News people in a world heavily burdened by bad news? Let’s give it a try! Let us be good news for a world desperate to hear, see, and taste what is good. Pray with me, please:
Holy One, it is easy to see the mustard plant and forget to marvel at the seed. It is easy to taste good wine and not appreciate it. It is easy to miss the holy that is in our midst. So as we move into Lent, getting ever-closer to the Cross yet anticipating the Empty Tomb, we ask that you surprise us. Speak to us. Move through us. Draw us closer to your Good News. We wait with bated breath. Amen.
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message on the first Sunday of Lent, February 22, 2026, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Scholarship, commentary, and reflection by T. Denise Anderson, Lizzie McManus-Dail, and Lisle Gwynn Garrity inform the message.