The second miracle Jesus ever did here was healing a boy when a desperate father came to him. Jesus was not near the boy. He never physically had any interaction with him. The father could barely get the words pleading for help out of his mouth before Jesus told the concerned father, who had traveled to find him, that his son lives. The father returned home to find that the very hour he spoke with Jesus, the fever had broken. In the seventh hour, the father believed the words of Jesus and a miracle happened.
In Roman culture, the seventh hour was the end of the work day. For many of us, it's late afternoon. It is that time of day when we finish up, wind down and think about having dinner or a nice bath. Romans took baths in their bathouses and then had dinner. The time for work was over.
I wonder how often I have missed the seventh hour with God. Have I waited so long to address a problem with him that the risk of failed enlightenment, possibly for good, is at hand? Will the fever get worse? Will I go whatever lengths necessary to find Jesus for someone else? Will I put my pride aside and logic away so that God does a miracle?
It is a little scary to think how often I have missed opportunities to see miracles in my own life and the lives of others. What do I miss every day? What do I not see that is right under my nose? What do I take for granted? I am humbled today thinking of the miraculous things God has done, and is doing in my life. I am ashamed of how I get so caught up in the busyness and superficiality of this world. Thank God he brings us back around like the lost sheep that we are. Gently guiding us back to green pastures. Now, that's a miracle.
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