Show Don't Tell: John 2:23-25

As the sun dipped low over Jerusalem, casting a warm golden light that danced off the ancient stones, the city hummed with the excitement of the Passover Festival. People filled the narrow streets, their voices mingling with the clatter of pottery and the tempting aromas of roasted lamb wafting from nearby stalls. Amid this vibrant scene stood Jesus, a figure of quiet authority amidst the throng.

Crowds gathered around Him, eager to see a man who performed signs that defied explanation. Some had heard whispers of His ability to heal the sick, to turn water into wine, to bring the dead back to life. Their hearts raced, not just with hope, but with sheer curiosity—what wonders might this man unveil next? They believed in His power, yes, but beneath that belief lay a thin layer, barely covering the vast chasm of their true trust.

As Jesus observed them, His gaze pierced deeper than mere appearances. It was akin to a skilled surgeon deftly cutting through layers of flesh to reach the heart; He understood the frailty of human faith. These people were drawn to the spectacle, the dazzling miracles, but they shied away from the deeper commitment that true faith demands.

He knew that belief borne from spectacle often crumbles when the show ends. Like a child captivated by fireworks, they cheered for the light but fled at the silence that followed. In that moment, Jesus did not entrust Himself to them. His heart was not drawn to the applause of the crowd, but rather to those who would follow Him beyond the miracles, who would seek Him not just for what He could do but for who He truly was.

In a world hungry for the extraordinary, Jesus reminds us that true faith is forged in the quiet spaces, where trust runs deep and is not easily shaken by the fading echoes of yesterday’s wonders.