Is almost always where you can find Jesus.

He shows up in the middle of our desperation, not in our confidence and contentment. He meets us at the end of our rope, not in our neatly ordered and controlled three-ring binders. He is drawn by our brokenness and weakness, not our got-it-all-togetherness and strength. He helps the helpless, not those who are fully capable of helping themselves.

Is all any of us really have.

Someone else saw something beautiful and told us about it, and we believed them. Someone else did a study about the effects of a medication, and we took it. Someone studied history and compiled stories into a single narrative, and we accepted it. Someone else told us that this was a reliable car to purchase, and we bought it. Someone else did the math and said that the architecture of a bridge is sound, and we drove across it. Someone else told us that they loved us, and we loved them back. Someone else heard something from God and wrote it down, and we read them as His words.

Some of us need signs and wonders. Some of us need a clear, simple explanation. Some of us need to feel deeply loved and accepted just as we are. Some of us need a cause to live for. Some of us need help getting our act together. Some of us need a clean break from our sordid past and a fresh start into a bright, new future.

For Jesus, you never believing is not an option. His love and kindness compel him to do whatever he can to help you believe. The trick is that sometimes what we say we need in order to believe is different from what Jesus says we need in order to believe. He knows us better than we know ourselves.

I may say that I need signs and wonders, but he offers me a clean break from my past.

I may say that I need a clear explanation, but he gives me a new, bigger reason to live.

I may say that I need help getting my act together, but he extends love and acceptance.

Or perhaps I may be spot on about what I need. Regardless, the decisive moment comes when Jesus offers me what he knows I really need, which might not be what I think I need. Can I take him at his word?

Is about how long it would take you to get from Cana to Capernaum today. With good traffic. Not too bad.

In the first century, it would be about a 7 hour walk. A bit faster if you were in a hurry and in decent shape. Even faster if you had some modern footwear. Even faster than that if you had a horse or a donkey.

Imagine for a moment that your child is dying in Capernaum, but you’re away on official business in Cana. Because your boss, to put it lightly, is not the kind of man you’d say “No” to. Your heart is breaking. The doctors have done all that they can do. The end is imminent. You can’t get home fast enough. Even 40 minutes feels like an eternity, let alone a few hours.

So you do the only thing you can think to do: Beg for a miracle.

I know it can be hard. There’s so much familiarity that you have a fixed image in your mind of who they are. There were so many times that you’ve seen them do ordinary things that it can be hard to recognize when they do something extraordinary. When you’ve watched someone grow up it can be easy to miss the man or woman they’ve become. Stories of their great accomplishments in some distant city may just sound like irrelevant and exaggerated tales.

Define “prophet” however you want. For my money you can almost insert anyone into that slot. Everyone has something to communicate about who God is, or what he is up to, or what he might have to say today. Whether they are conscious of it or not. We are all image bearers.

Or just forget the word “prophet” if that throws you or if you feel like nitpicking the definition. The truth is that everyone is easily overlooked by those who’ve known them for years on end.

Help them to hear for themselves. Spend less energy explaining them what they should believe and why they should believe it and why they should disbelieve all the other alternatives, and spend more energy simply trying to help them learn how to listen to the Divine.

And remember that the Divine speaks in so many varied and unpredictable ways. Don’t expect communication to come to someone else the same way that it came to you. That person you really wish would believe? The Divine is already speaking to them, and probably in a really unique way. In some special way that will catch their attention and reach the depths of their being. They may just need a little support in learning how to listen with spiritual ears.

Evangelism is little more than telling your story of encountering Jesus so that someone else might want him to show up in their life as well. Testimony that leads to invitation.

A testimony is not an argument. It’s not an objective explanation of the truth. It’s a subjective recounting of life as you experienced it. No spin. No hype. No strategy. No pitch. Just a story. Your story, flowing out of your own heart and memory.

Is putting you in position to reap the benefits of someone else’s hard work. Or, it might be setting someone else up to benefit from your labors.

None of our success is our own. There are others whose contributions made it all possible. Some of their names we know. Some of them will forever go unnoticed and unacknowledged. Every harvest that we reap is the fruit of seed that was sown by someone else, into soil tilled by someone else, and then watered and tended by someone else.

Are not the timetable of the Kingdom of God.

Farmers and gardeners plan their crops around the seasons of the year. Students and teachers order their year around semesters and Summer breaks. Many people change the decor in their homes in anticipation of the next major holiday.

In the Kingdom of God, every moment is ripe. Every present moment holds the possibility for reaping because every past moment held the possibility for sowing. Fruit may be ready for the picking right in front of you.

Is not like bland bread and water.

It’s like a juicy slice of watermelon on a hot summer day.

It’s like a cold glass of lemonade after you’ve been out mowing the grass and pulling weeds.

It’s like an aromatic bowl of soup on a cold winter night.