When You Run Out
When You Run Out
Driving on I‑35 with my family, we passed a man hauling a gas can back to his car.
My wife’s first instinct: “Oh no, he ran out of gas. Poor guy.”
My first thought: “Who runs out of gas on I‑35?”
Same situation, two reactions—but it made me think about how often all of us “run out”: of money, patience, strength, hope. We don’t always break down on the highway, but we do break down inside.
That’s why the wedding story in John 2 feels so honest. Jesus is at an ordinary celebration, and they hit an ordinary problem: they run out of wine. Mary doesn’t panic or try to fix it herself. She simply goes to Jesus and says, “They don’t have any wine.” No suggestions, no pressure—just bringing the need to him.
I remembered that when we lost Jack, the box turtle we were caring for. Our kids loved him. One day I found his pen open and Jack gone. I spent a long time searching every corner of the yard and came up empty.
Walking the fence line, I thought of Mary’s simple move. Feeling a little silly, I stopped in one spot and prayed, “Jesus, I need Jack.” Nothing happened. I went to bed assuming he was gone.
The next morning, I went out to water and decided to check one more time. When I reached that same spot where I’d prayed, Jack’s head suddenly poked under the fence from the neighbor’s yard. I grabbed him and laughed out loud.
It was such a small thing—but it pulled Jesus out of the “big spiritual moments” and into my everyday backyard. I had brought him an ordinary need, and somehow I knew he’d met me there.
At the wedding, after Mary brings the problem to Jesus, she tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Jesus asks them to fill jars with water and take some to the master of the banquet. It probably felt ridiculous—but they did it. And somewhere in that simple, confusing obedience, the water became wine.
They didn’t get an explanation first. They trusted first, and understanding came later.
The master tastes it and is stunned: this isn’t just more wine, it’s better wine. That’s so often how Jesus works. He doesn’t just refill what we’ve lost; he can turn our empty places into something better than what we had before—if we’re willing to bring those places to him and do what he says.
You might try this today:
A short prayer to use:
“Jesus, I’ve run out of ________. I bring this to you. I won’t try to control the outcome—show me the next step, and help me trust you in it. Meet me in the ordinary parts of my life. Amen.”
Driving on I‑35 with my family, we passed a man hauling a gas can back to his car.
My wife’s first instinct: “Oh no, he ran out of gas. Poor guy.”
My first thought: “Who runs out of gas on I‑35?”
Same situation, two reactions—but it made me think about how often all of us “run out”: of money, patience, strength, hope. We don’t always break down on the highway, but we do break down inside.
That’s why the wedding story in John 2 feels so honest. Jesus is at an ordinary celebration, and they hit an ordinary problem: they run out of wine. Mary doesn’t panic or try to fix it herself. She simply goes to Jesus and says, “They don’t have any wine.” No suggestions, no pressure—just bringing the need to him.
I remembered that when we lost Jack, the box turtle we were caring for. Our kids loved him. One day I found his pen open and Jack gone. I spent a long time searching every corner of the yard and came up empty.
Walking the fence line, I thought of Mary’s simple move. Feeling a little silly, I stopped in one spot and prayed, “Jesus, I need Jack.” Nothing happened. I went to bed assuming he was gone.
The next morning, I went out to water and decided to check one more time. When I reached that same spot where I’d prayed, Jack’s head suddenly poked under the fence from the neighbor’s yard. I grabbed him and laughed out loud.
It was such a small thing—but it pulled Jesus out of the “big spiritual moments” and into my everyday backyard. I had brought him an ordinary need, and somehow I knew he’d met me there.
At the wedding, after Mary brings the problem to Jesus, she tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Jesus asks them to fill jars with water and take some to the master of the banquet. It probably felt ridiculous—but they did it. And somewhere in that simple, confusing obedience, the water became wine.
They didn’t get an explanation first. They trusted first, and understanding came later.
The master tastes it and is stunned: this isn’t just more wine, it’s better wine. That’s so often how Jesus works. He doesn’t just refill what we’ve lost; he can turn our empty places into something better than what we had before—if we’re willing to bring those places to him and do what he says.
You might try this today:
- Name honestly what you’ve run out of.
“Jesus, I’m out of ________.” - Bring it to him without telling him how to fix it.
Just lay it down. - Stay open to the next small step he nudges you toward, even if you don’t fully understand it yet.
A short prayer to use:
“Jesus, I’ve run out of ________. I bring this to you. I won’t try to control the outcome—show me the next step, and help me trust you in it. Meet me in the ordinary parts of my life. Amen.”
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