Good Friday 2025 - Three Men and a Corpse (Dr. Kurt Bjorklund)

Good evening.

It's great to be together.

As the Christian calendar unfolds, there are three days that are the most significant days of the Christian year.

The first is the obvious one, Christmas.

We often in our culture devote an entire month to it.

We start with gift buying, shopping, we have big meals, parties, and it goes on for at least a month.

And then we come to Easter.

And Easter is a big day, certainly in the Christian calendar, and maybe you'll get a new shirt, a new dress, you'll have a meal, but by three o'clock in the afternoon, it's basically done.

And then there's Good Friday.

A lot of churches don't even have a service, and there's no music that's directed for it.

There aren't unique meals that signify this day.

And yet, if you've been around church, you've studied your Bible, you know that it is the day that points to the cross, in which we remember the cross of Jesus Christ.

And it's the cross that brings forgiveness, it's the cross that brings freedom.

It's the cross that brings certainty about the future and our eternity.

And yet, when we come to Good Friday, we have the luxury of being able to see it through the lens of the resurrection.

But tonight I want us to go back.

Go back to what it may have been like that night, the night that Jesus died, and see it through the lens of three different people, one event, when two people came and asked Pilate for the body.

Because what we often do is when we know the end of the story, we think that we understand how it is, but what if we had been living it that night without knowing the end?

How would we have reacted?

Let me read to you from John 19, where we see this occur.

John 19, verse 38 through 42.

John 19:38–42

Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus.

Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, because he feared the Jewish leaders.

With Pilate's permission, he came and took the body away.

He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night.

Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about 75 pounds.

Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it with the spices in strips of linen.

This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs.

At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid.

Because it was Jewish, the Jewish day of preparation, and since the tomb was nearby, Jesus was laid there.

This is the word of the Lord.

Let's see this for a moment through the eyes of Joseph of Arimathea.

I never thought it would come to this.

I'm a member of the council, always been a man of high standing, respected, and so careful.

And yet here I am about to go and ask for the body of a man that they just crucified like a criminal.

Oh, Lord, what have they done to you?

I watched as they led him through the street, his body broken and bloodied from the flogging.

And then they nailed him to the cross, and each stroke of the hammer just thundered within my chest.

And what did I do?

Nothing.

I, Joseph of Arimathea, a disciple in secret, too scared of the Sanhedrin, too scared of losing my place among men, I remained hidden.

And now it's too late.

Or is it?

I must go to Pilate.

I must ask for the body, but what if he refuses me?

What if the other members of the council hear of this?

They'll call me a traitor.

They'll strip me of everything.

But I can't leave him there.

I can't let him hang there.

The Sabbath is coming, and the birds and the jackals will rip his body to shreds.

I have a tomb.

It's never been used.

It's untouched by death, and it's prepared.

It was meant for me, but what am I to this moment?

My comfort, my plans, my legacy.

Who am I to him?

We'll take him there.

We'll wrap him and lay him there, and we'll anoint him with the aloe and myrrh that Nicodemus brings.

It's not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough.

I should have said something.

I should have stood beside him when they falsely accused him.

But I was silent.

I was silent when he carried the cross.

I was silent when they mocked him.

I was silent when he cried out, It is finished.

I will not be silent any longer.

Tonight I go to Pilate.

Tonight I bury my Lord, and even though I am terrified, I will do this one thing for him, even if it costs me everything.

So what we know about Joseph of Arimathea, we learn in all four Gospels.

In Matthew, we're told that he was a disciple and that he was wealthy.

In Mark, we're told that he was a member of the ruling council or of the Sanhedrin who was waiting for the kingdom of God.

In Luke, we learn that he was a good and upright man.

But it is John alone who tells us that he was a secret follower.

And it was because of his fear of the Jews.

You know, it's easy as we stand where we stand, looking back to say, what did he have to be afraid of?

But to identify with Jesus, the one who they had believed was going to institute the kingdom here and now, would be to identify with a losing revolution, and revolutionaries were put to death.

He had a lot to fear.

And it's easy to critique him and criticize him, and yet many of us, probably, if we're honest, have some fears that keep us quiet.

We don't tell the people around us that we're followers of Jesus.

Maybe in our school we want it to be on the down low, or in our place of business, or where we live, or even with a family member, we say, oh yeah, I go to church, but we don't really talk about Jesus and what it means to be his follower.

Let me ask you, where do you want to blend in?

Where are you afraid?

And why?

In the day in which we live, there's something that happens in a relationship often between a young boy and a young girl, and that is when their dating hits a certain point, they go public.

And what that generally means, whether there's a discussion or not, is posted on social media or not, they go from talking and hanging out to now we are declaring that we are together.

But here's the rub that can happen sometimes if one person wants to go public and one person doesn't.

Because in that moment, let's just say it's the guy who's saying, I don't want to go public.

What he's doing is he's saying, I want to leave my options open.

I don't want everyone to know we're together, because if they know we're together, then my options are limited.

And any girl who is shrewd at that point would say, either go public or get out.

And yet sometimes what we want to do with Jesus is we want to be secret followers.

In Mark chapter 8, verse 38, we're told that if we don't acknowledge Jesus before people, he will not acknowledge us before the God of the universe.

Mark 8:38

And so tonight I just want to ask you: have you made the move from a secret follower to a public follower to declaring your allegiance to the God of the universe?

You have the advantage of a perspective that says you know how the story ends.

Joseph did it in a moment when all he knew was there was something about Jesus, and even though it felt like the end of his hopes, he said, I'm going in because this is where my hope is, even though it feels hopeless.

And we have a much better way to see it.

Now let's see it through the eyes of Pilate.

It is done.

Finally, it is done.

This man, this Jesus, he should have been nothing to me.

Just another zealot, just another would-be king, just another fool caught in the teeth of Rome's unyielding law.

And yet, he lingers in my mind.

Even now, after the cries of the mob have finally died down, after the mob who shouted at him have finally gone home satisfied, after the sun has finally set on this most wretched day, even now, I can't get my mind off of him.

His eyes, those eyes, they haunt me.

He stood before me, beaten and bloodied, yet unbroken.

You'd have no power over me if it were not given you from above.

Isn't that what he said to me?

As if I were the one on trial?

As if he pitied me.

And now, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, they come to me, practically begging for the body.

These are not reckless men.

Joseph of Arimathea sits on the council, cautious and deliberate.

Nicodemus, a Pharisee of Pharisees, if there was anyone who would hate Jesus, it would be him.

And yet, these men come to me, and in their coming they risk it all.

They risk their standing, they risk their reputation, they risk perhaps even their lives.

And so the question that I have is why?

Why this devotion?

Why this commitment?

Why this loyalty?

Why this love?

All for this man, this Jesus, this failed Messiah who died on my cross.

No matter.

Jesus is dead, the matter is finished, Rome has spoken, and the cross has done its work.

And yet, something in me hesitates.

I send a centurion to confirm it.

Yes, the Nazarene is truly dead.

So why?

Why do I feel as though he is still here?

Why do his words continually ring in my ears?

Why do I feel as though I have missed a key detail in this case?

Why do I feel this way?

From the moment I ordered his execution, the sky began to grow dark, the earth began to shake, and the very air grew heavy with something that I do not understand.

My wife, she warned me, have nothing to do with this righteous man, she said, but I did not listen.

How could I?

The crowd, they roared for his blood.

And I, Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea, friend to the emperor himself, I was afraid.

Afraid.

I who hold the very power over life and death was swayed by the shouts of men.

I gave them exactly what they wanted, but I knew that it was wrong.

And now the stain of guilt rests on me.

I wash my hands, but the water does nothing.

The stain remains.

And now these men, they come to me.

Not as cowards, but as disciples.

And I, who once sat so confidently, sit here in doubt.

Take the body.

Do with him what you will.

Let the dead bury their dead.

Pilate's story, Pilate's story is in some ways a story about neutrality, at least attempted neutrality.

We could say he tried to be a little bit like a spiritual Switzerland, and though his wife said, free this man, he chose not to.

What we know from the scriptures is he seemed to be fairly proud.

He was shrewd.

He was cruel.

He was willing to punish people, he was a political operative, he was one who was able to withstand different pressures from different sides, and it seemed that he wanted to embrace Jesus.

At a minimum, he didn't want to condemn him.

And yet he did.

What we don't know is was it because he had an intellectual resistance to saying that he was the king, that he was God?

Was it because he scoffed when he said, Don't you realize I have the power of life and death over you?

And Jesus said, You wouldn't have it if I didn't give it to you.

Or was it more than the intellectual?

Was it the consequential?

And what I mean by that is because he knew that if he made this choice, it would probably be the end of his political career, the end of his wealth, the end of everything that he held dear.

And so his thought, I can be neutral.

I won't condemn other than at the very end, and I won't affirm that he's God.

He's not a criminal, he's not a fraud, but do with him what you want.

I'll try to send him away, but he's not really God or King.

And what he reminds us of is that there is no place to stand that is neutral when it comes to Jesus Christ.

There is nowhere that you can simply say, This is where I can avoid deciding.

It's a little bit like trying to use a car without putting it into drive and just staying in neutral or putting it in reverse.

Sooner or later, you have to commit to either drive or reverse.

There is nowhere to simply say, I stay neutral.

So where have you been trying to stay neutral?

Where have you tried to avoid deciding about who Jesus is in your life?

Because of the three men in this account, Pilate is the one who remained neutral and didn't make a movement really toward Jesus.

Neutrality is like staying apart from God.

Now let's see this through Nicodemus' eyes.

How strange is it that I, Nicodemus, a respected Pharisee and high-ranking member of the Jewish ruling council, now find myself moving towards an empty tomb, bringing with me myrrh, aloe, and a hope of burying Jesus' body.

But how did we get to this?

I remember that night I went to visit Jesus, using darkness to hide our encounter because I was worried.

Worried what people might say or think about me if they found out.

I mean, who else could be performing the signs he was performing if he wasn't truly from God?

And that night I will never forget some of the things Jesus said to me.

Like, unless one is born again, one cannot enter the kingdom of God.

I couldn't understand what Jesus was saying that night.

I mean, how could I?

I mean, how does one man enter his mother's womb a second time, right?

But as I'm getting closer to this tomb, I'm beginning to understand what he meant.

Jesus was no ordinary man.

He was not just some mere prophet.

And I tried.

I tried to get others to understand when I defended Jesus that day in front of the council, but instead, all they chose to do was mock me, asking me if I was from Galilee too.

And that question terrified me.

I stopped talking after that.

I went silent.

Like Joseph.

I used the shadows of the crowd to go back into hiding and just watching, listening, and waiting for what might happen next.

And now Jesus is dead.

The light of the world snuffed out.

The one who spoke of living water and eternal life now is broken, breathless, and cold.

Maybe I should have spoken louder.

Maybe I should have stood by his side when he was being condemned.

But instead, I come now.

I come once the crowds are gone and the threat is past.

And Jesus is already gone.

He's gone.

But I know that still coming now, there is going to be great risk.

Soon all of the council will find out.

Soon everyone will know that Joseph and I have touched the body of a crucified man.

A so-called blasphemer.

I will become unclean for Passover.

I will be cast out and called a fool.

What does any of that matter now?

I just watched Jesus be lifted up.

Like Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness.

But now as I stand outside this tomb, I am understanding what Jesus meant.

I can see Jesus for who he is.

Jesus is not defeated.

Jesus is fulfilling what he came to do.

It's why that night he said to me, For God so loved the world that he gave his only son.

By now Joseph should be with Pilate.

And hopefully soon we can take Jesus' body off of that cursed tree, wrap him in linen, and lay Him in that tomb.

And I know.

I know that this will never be enough.

Not for the one who promised eternal life.

But it is what I can do now.

And for once, I will not hide.

What we know about Nicodemus comes from the Gospel of John.

In John 3, he went to Jesus at night, which means he didn't want to be seen.

In a way, it was a half-measure to say, tell me, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

But I don't want others to know.

And then in John 7, when Jesus and some of his followers were in trouble with some of the rulers, Nicodemus tried to play the middle ground and he tried to give some temperate advice, like, let's give it some time, let's see how this plays out, but he didn't take a stand.

And now he finally comes out of the shadows.

Not so much like Joseph of Arimathea, where he was being secretive.

He was out there, but he took half measures.

He always was measuring his steps instead of being unreserved in his commitment.

I remember years ago, my wife and I had been invited to go to a young life camp as adult guests.

And young life camps are always fun for all of their extreme sports.

And one of the days when some of the students were at a campwide activity, they had the adults go on the high ropes course.

And if you've ever been on a high ropes course, you know that there's several moments that are that are scary, but they're not really scary because you're harnessed in.

But you come to the end of the course, and the idea is you step off of this platform and you just kind of go down to the ground, but there's a moment when you have to step off of the platform where you can't go halfway.

You have to actually step off with nothing there.

I remember the day that we did this, I was toward the end of the line, so I saw several people get to the ledge and just stand there and not want to move because they were terrified of what was ahead.

And then finally they would go or they'd climb back down, and then somebody else would go.

And by the time it became my turn, I had intellectually seen that nothing would happen to me if I just stepped off.

But I got there, and I'd love to tell you I just jumped right off, but instead I stood there for a half minute and hesitated because I wanted to take the measured approach.

Can I just ask you, where have you been measured in your response to Jesus Christ?

Has it been with your money?

Has it been with your sexuality?

Has it been with your honesty?

In Revelation 3, we're told about the church in Laodicea.

And Jesus' words to that church were I wish that you were either hot or cold, but lukewarm.

I want to spit you out of my mouth.

You see, tonight we have an invitation.

And in a way, the invitation is to say, you can enter into everything Jesus has done for you on the cross, but we have an advantage over the people that we've seen here tonight.

Because we have the advantage of seeing it from where we stand with the resurrection and all that's included.

And for us, it might be that we have a movement from being measured, if you will, to being unreserved, or maybe we step out of neutrality and say, I'm no longer going to try to hesitate between two opinions, or maybe it's to move from being a follower in secret to being one in public.

But this isn't the only time in the Bible where we see this kind of a story.

In the Old Testament, there was the account of Esther.

And Esther was a Jewish woman, and she had come to be the queen.

And while she was the queen, there was a plot to kill all of the Jewish people, and she had been a Jew secretly in the queen's court.

And at one point her uncle comes to her and says, I don't think you're going to escape either if this edict against exterminating the Jews comes down.

And she says, Well, if I perish, I perish.

And she says, She'll go in, and through her, there is salvation for that group of Jewish people.

But you see, that story isn't just to tell us that we should be bold like Esther.

And this story isn't to tell us that we should be like Nicodemus or be like Joseph of Arimathea and avoid being like Pilate.

Jesus is the greater Esther.

Jesus is the one who saves.

And the reason that we can respond with courage and going public and worship and decisiveness isn't because we try harder, but it's because we come to have wonder and worship of the one who is the savior of our souls and who paid the price for our sin.

And when we see it, we cannot help but do what a surrendered heart does.

And that's the invitation that we have here this evening.

John Wesley wrote a prayer years ago.

I'd like to pray that for us together.

Would you pray with me?

Oh merciful Father, do not consider what we have done against you, but what our blessed Savior has done for us.

Don't consider what we have made of ourselves, but what he is making of us for you are God.

Oh, that Christ may be wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption to every one of our souls.

May his precious blood cleanse us from all our sins, and may your Holy Spirit renew us and sanctify our souls.

May He crucify our flesh with its passions and lusts and cleanse us and all our brothers and sisters across the earth.

And we pray it in Jesus' name.

Amen.

Let's stand and respond with the team in song.