John 19:30 It Is Finished
When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
Repent! Turn to Jesus. We’ve been urged to do just that all through this Lenten season. Turn to Jesus. It’s never been more urgent, more crucial that we turn to Jesus than today. And it’s never been harder. When we turn to Jesus today, we see a condemned and dying man painfully nailed to a rough wooden cross. Some things are hard to look at. We can look around us today, and we see crosses: crosses of shiny gold, of silver, simple crosses of two straight lines, and elaborate crucifixes with an image of Christ crucified. And they may be beautiful in their way. Even the crucifixes—you have to look pretty closely to notice the wounds Jesus bore, but you won’t see any blood. You won’t see what Jesus’ mother saw standing at the foot of the cross, the real, intense pain, the lashes, the shame of this public execution, or the anguish of body and soul that she could read on his face. You won’t see the ugliness.
Some things are very hard to look at, and the original cross of Jesus is one of them. Yet we are urged to turn to him. We heard Isaiah describe this humble man, God’s suffering Servant, by saying he wasn’t much to look at. “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” And when Isaiah, writing seven hundred years before Jesus was born, views Jesus’ death, he sees what we don’t want to see: “Like one from whom men hide their faces...pierced... crushed... stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.” But look we must, because it was our sins that he was being punished for. We must look. We owe it to him not to turn away to spare ourselves any unpleasantness, because he was doing it for us. This was an act of love, of mercy, pity, and absolute devotion to our salvation. We must not look away until it’s all over.
Six hours Jesus endured the pain of the cross. Finally, it was over. His head bowed, his heart stopped beating, he felt no more pain, and finally the crowds that had gathered slowly began to turn away. Some were there only to mock him. Some only to make sure he died. A few were there to mourn. They were there for him, even if their fear and confusion kept most of them standing at a distance, kept them silent, and they did nothing to help him, or to confess their devotion to him and perhaps die with him.
When it was all over, the crowds turned away. A few women who had followed him stayed, watching from a distance to see what would happen to his body. But they, too, knew that it was all over. As hard as it is to gaze at the cross, as much as his loved ones didn’t want him to die, they wanted it to be over.
The Pharisees had wanted it to be over for a very long time—not Christ’s suffering, but his life, his ministry, his popularity. He had too many disciples, too many devoted followers to fight them all, but they concluded, “Kill the head, and the problem goes away. End Jesus of Nazareth, and everything would go back to the way they preferred, with them in charge, with them having all the honor, power, and influence that Jesus seemed to be getting. Kill him and it will all be over.”
Even Pontius Pilate treated this whole situation as something he just wanted over and done with. He tried to let Jesus go with just a severe lashing. He tried passing Jesus off to Herod. He tried washing his hands of everything. But it wouldn’t be over until he agreed to pass sentence and put Jesus to death. You can see that he was done with Jesus when the Jews tried to get him to change the inscription over Jesus’ head. “What I have written, I have written,” Pilate said. “I’m done. I’m not going to change anything. I’m not going to revisit the trial or the sentence. It’s over.”
And when Jesus breathed his last, six hours later, he too said, “It’s over. It is finished.” But it’s not going to come as any surprise to you that he didn’t mean it they everyone else did. It wasn’t despair, defeat, or hopeless resignation to the end of everything he had tried to accomplish. It wasn’t the end of his life he spoke of. It was a clear, strong announcement that he had accomplished something. It is accomplished. The debt is paid. The enemy is defeated. The gates of heaven are open. The wrath of God is appeased and his righteous judgment is satisfied.
It’s not easy to turn to the crucified Son of God during his final hours, and not just because of the agonizing reality of his dying, but because we’re ashamed. It was our sins that got him killed. Remember once again how Judas felt great remorse when he realized that his actions had caused an innocent man to be sentenced to death. That’s our shame too. Our actions put an innocent man to death. And when we stand at the foot of the cross we see the consequences of everything we have done. It’s not easy to turn to someone we have wronged so terribly because we might see anger or we might see disappointment in us and we’re not sure which one is worse. But when we turn to Jesus we only see love and forgiveness, and in the end assurance that it is finished. He doesn’t say, “We’re finished; I’m done with you,” as we would deserve to hear. But, “It is finished.” The sin is gone.
It’s not easy to turn and look to the crucified Son of God, but we must, because that is the only place where we can possibly find peace and hope, the end of all that has separated us from God, the end of all our fears of death and judgment. In simple faith turn to Jesus; he, and he alone, finished your salvation. Salvation is accomplished always and forever through Jesus. Salvation is yours only and solely though Jesus. It is finished! Amen.
When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
Repent! Turn to Jesus. We’ve been urged to do just that all through this Lenten season. Turn to Jesus. It’s never been more urgent, more crucial that we turn to Jesus than today. And it’s never been harder. When we turn to Jesus today, we see a condemned and dying man painfully nailed to a rough wooden cross. Some things are hard to look at. We can look around us today, and we see crosses: crosses of shiny gold, of silver, simple crosses of two straight lines, and elaborate crucifixes with an image of Christ crucified. And they may be beautiful in their way. Even the crucifixes—you have to look pretty closely to notice the wounds Jesus bore, but you won’t see any blood. You won’t see what Jesus’ mother saw standing at the foot of the cross, the real, intense pain, the lashes, the shame of this public execution, or the anguish of body and soul that she could read on his face. You won’t see the ugliness.
Some things are very hard to look at, and the original cross of Jesus is one of them. Yet we are urged to turn to him. We heard Isaiah describe this humble man, God’s suffering Servant, by saying he wasn’t much to look at. “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” And when Isaiah, writing seven hundred years before Jesus was born, views Jesus’ death, he sees what we don’t want to see: “Like one from whom men hide their faces...pierced... crushed... stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.” But look we must, because it was our sins that he was being punished for. We must look. We owe it to him not to turn away to spare ourselves any unpleasantness, because he was doing it for us. This was an act of love, of mercy, pity, and absolute devotion to our salvation. We must not look away until it’s all over.
Six hours Jesus endured the pain of the cross. Finally, it was over. His head bowed, his heart stopped beating, he felt no more pain, and finally the crowds that had gathered slowly began to turn away. Some were there only to mock him. Some only to make sure he died. A few were there to mourn. They were there for him, even if their fear and confusion kept most of them standing at a distance, kept them silent, and they did nothing to help him, or to confess their devotion to him and perhaps die with him.
When it was all over, the crowds turned away. A few women who had followed him stayed, watching from a distance to see what would happen to his body. But they, too, knew that it was all over. As hard as it is to gaze at the cross, as much as his loved ones didn’t want him to die, they wanted it to be over.
The Pharisees had wanted it to be over for a very long time—not Christ’s suffering, but his life, his ministry, his popularity. He had too many disciples, too many devoted followers to fight them all, but they concluded, “Kill the head, and the problem goes away. End Jesus of Nazareth, and everything would go back to the way they preferred, with them in charge, with them having all the honor, power, and influence that Jesus seemed to be getting. Kill him and it will all be over.”
Even Pontius Pilate treated this whole situation as something he just wanted over and done with. He tried to let Jesus go with just a severe lashing. He tried passing Jesus off to Herod. He tried washing his hands of everything. But it wouldn’t be over until he agreed to pass sentence and put Jesus to death. You can see that he was done with Jesus when the Jews tried to get him to change the inscription over Jesus’ head. “What I have written, I have written,” Pilate said. “I’m done. I’m not going to change anything. I’m not going to revisit the trial or the sentence. It’s over.”
And when Jesus breathed his last, six hours later, he too said, “It’s over. It is finished.” But it’s not going to come as any surprise to you that he didn’t mean it they everyone else did. It wasn’t despair, defeat, or hopeless resignation to the end of everything he had tried to accomplish. It wasn’t the end of his life he spoke of. It was a clear, strong announcement that he had accomplished something. It is accomplished. The debt is paid. The enemy is defeated. The gates of heaven are open. The wrath of God is appeased and his righteous judgment is satisfied.
It’s not easy to turn to the crucified Son of God during his final hours, and not just because of the agonizing reality of his dying, but because we’re ashamed. It was our sins that got him killed. Remember once again how Judas felt great remorse when he realized that his actions had caused an innocent man to be sentenced to death. That’s our shame too. Our actions put an innocent man to death. And when we stand at the foot of the cross we see the consequences of everything we have done. It’s not easy to turn to someone we have wronged so terribly because we might see anger or we might see disappointment in us and we’re not sure which one is worse. But when we turn to Jesus we only see love and forgiveness, and in the end assurance that it is finished. He doesn’t say, “We’re finished; I’m done with you,” as we would deserve to hear. But, “It is finished.” The sin is gone.
It’s not easy to turn and look to the crucified Son of God, but we must, because that is the only place where we can possibly find peace and hope, the end of all that has separated us from God, the end of all our fears of death and judgment. In simple faith turn to Jesus; he, and he alone, finished your salvation. Salvation is accomplished always and forever through Jesus. Salvation is yours only and solely though Jesus. It is finished! Amen.