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He came therefore again to Cana of Galilee where He had made the water wine. And there was a certain royal official, whose son was sick at Capernaum. [47] When he heard that Jesus had come out of Judea into Galilee, he went to Him, and was requesting Him to come down and heal his son; for he was at the point of death. [48] Jesus therefore said to him, "Unless you people see signs and wonders, you simply will not believe." [49] The royal official said to Him, "Sir, come down before my child dies." [50] Jesus said to him, "Go your way; your son lives." The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him, and he started off. [51] And as he was now going down, his slaves met him, saying that his son was living. [52] So he inquired of them the hour when he began to get better. They said therefore to him, "Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him." [53] So the father knew that it was at that hour in which Jesus said to him, "Your son lives"; and he himself believed, and his whole household. 
 

The phone rang. Dad put down his garden tools, wiped the sweat from his face and rushed into the house to grab the phone before its final ring. With his mind on his Saturday morning chores, he didn't notice the sliding glass patio door was closed. 

Mom found him in a pool of blood with glass chards laying beside him. Frantically, Mom called 911. The dispatcher couldn't send any help, it seems that my parent's address was on the wrong side of an arbitrary bureaucratic line. Mom would have to call someone else.

Afraid there wasn't enough time to make another phone call, Mom managed to get Dad in the front seat of the car to take him to the hospital herself. Instead of getting on the freeway and driving to downtown Ft. Worth, she took a side street to a hospital that was closer. 

Traffic was heavy. Blood was pouring into the floorboard of the car. Time slowed down. Dad was bleeding to death. Mom was desperate.

The royal official in today's text was desperate too. Desperate enough to travel twenty miles from Capernaum to Cana to ask for help. Twenty miles wasn't the only distance the official had to cross. The journey was a piece of cake compared to the social distance he traveled. This man had high standing under King Herod. He traveled in the high social circles of his time. No doubt, he'd gathered with Herod and all his friends on many occasions. But now, he, a Roman ruler, lowered himself to seek help from Jesus, a Jewish laborer. The racial difference, notwithstanding, he lowered himself to seek help from the village carpenter. It must have been his last hope or he wouldn't have humiliated himself like this. Why would he do it? Why would he journey so far and humiliate himself like this?

Simple. His son was sick. His son was dying.

My Dad was dying and Mom felt helpless. Traffic was at a standstill. Mom saw the looks on the driver's faces as they pointed to the bleeding man, her husband in the car next to them. She honked the horn, but no one pulled over to let her by. No one offered to help. At that moment she would have done anything to get Dad the help he needed. It was surreal. The strong man who had always provided for her and always protected her was wilting away before her very eyes. He needed help. She had to get him some help.
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