Like this:

Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so they filled them to the brim. Then He told them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.” They did so, and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”   John 2:7-10

Okay, so I’ve known myself long enough to know that when I start thinking, “Maybe I should get a tattoo,” that means I’m getting bored with myself and need to go spend some time with Jesus.

My closest friends know that when I start grumbling about tattoos, they are to translate accordingly.

Now, I don’t have anything against tattoos or people who have them. But I’m not a tattoo girl. I’m just not. I wear jeans every day. When I get a haircut, my mom is the only one who can tell. Most days I’m pretty plain, by way of style and appearance. A tattoo just isn’t me. (And honestly, it’s a good thing it’s not because knowing me, I’d get a tattoo of Yoda or something and regret it forever.)

Starting in my post-college early twenties, I noticed about every two to three months, I would quietly start contemplating a tattoo. Occasionally I would confide these feelings and quickly be called back to reality. And I would never really go through with it. It’s just something I say when I’m bored.

Don’t get me wrong: My life is hardly boring. I’ve got two part-time jobs, three part-time kids, one full-time husband and the activities of all five of us in the balance. But I’m finding that I can be bored with a million things to do, just like I can be lonely while surrounded by people. The problem is not with my circumstances, it’s with me.

Most of us have heard the water-into-wine story so many times, it’s not even cool anymore. And as many times as we’ve heard it, we’ve heard just as many interpretations. Most people get hung up on the drinking issue: Is it really wine as we know it today, is Jesus saying we should drink, blah, blah, blah. I don’t know. Lots of theories out there on that issue, and I haven’t studied enough to offer another.

But I know that I often feel like one of those big jars of water.

They weren’t useless. On the contrary, they were very useful, IMPORTANT even. They were used for ceremonial washing. They had a purpose, and they fulfilled it. Water jars hold water. Period.

Until Jesus, that is. He showed up on the scene and did what He does best: CHANGED EVERYTHING. Before Jesus, the jars were practical, dutiful and religious. After Jesus, they were the source of celebration, joy and life. Before Jesus, they held what was necessary. After Jesus, they held something remarkable.

Some days, I catch myself just holding water. Dry tears, fold clothes, put out some fires, try to keep others going, etc. We all live there. And as busy as it is, our bodies may be exhausted, but our spirits are still restless. I feel necessary, even important. But not remarkable.

Here’s the deal: As a Christ-followers, I’m supposed to be holding wine.

Does that mean I’m supposed to blow off my duties as a mom, wife, and employee? Of course not. Should I pursue every hobby or whim at the expense of my family just to feel alive? Heck no. But if I’m spiritually bored, well, it’s certainly not God’s fault. Jesus didn’t change how the jars looked. He changed their contents. My day will still involve my responsibilities, but the spirit in which I do them should offer life to all those I encounter.

We were wired for the remarkable, and we don’t have to apologize for it. We seek adventure through bungee jumping and roller coasters. We medicate to kill pain, feign courage and heighten our senses. We play video games that make us rock stars, war heroes, and big game hunters without having to leave the safety of our homes.

These things aren’t wrong (well, except the medicating part), but they demonstrate our God-given craving for something MORE, Someone more.

So what does that look like? Well, I’m sure it looks differently on everyone. God has put us each on different journeys, resulting in different stories and ministries. For some, maybe it does look like a tattoo. But for me, it’s probably supposed to look more like the circumcised heart Paul was talking about. If I’m bored with my life, maybe I haven’t fully surrendered it to my King. Because Brother Lawrence peeled potatoes to the glory of God and he did so with joy. And he is remembered for being remarkable.

Lord Jesus, I know I was made for the remarkable. And as a believer in You, I know I house the Holy Spirit of the Living God. My King, forgive me for slipping back into water-jar mode. I don’t want to hold out the words of necessity, I want to hold out the words of LIFE. God, I confess my boredom to You, and I repent of it. You have not called Your children to lives of mediocrity, but to be lights in the darkness. And I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like on other people, but I know what it’s supposed to look like on me. You have already changed my contents, Lord. Now give me Your ability to believe it and live it.

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