Mark 15:1-47 (Good Friday)

800 years before Jesus, the Hebrew prophet Amos spoke of a coming day of darkness and

gloom, a day when God would remove his merciful presence from his stubbornly rebellious people.

On that day, declares the Lord God, I will make the sun go down at noon and darken the earth in broad daylight.

I will turn your feasts into mourning and all your songs into lamentation. I will make it like the

mourning for an only son and the end of it like a bitter day. What has been your darkest hour,

your most bitter day? Have you ever looked out upon a world from which every sign of God's merciful

presence? Every glimmer of hope, every promise of justice, every expression of love seems to have

vanished. Maybe your faith in God has been shaken since coming to college. The simple trust in a

good and powerful God that you once had as a child has been chipped away, eroded by persistent,

unanswered questions that you can't figure out how to resolve and can't seem to get out of your head.

Where God once seemed vivid and personal, now he seems abstract and distant. Where once the Bible

was your food for daily living, now its stories seem fanciful and foreign to your daily experience.

Other things seem far more real and compelling, like the conclusions of modern science or

your prospects for summer internships or perhaps simply the parties going on this weekend.

Maybe your faith has been shaken. Or maybe your hope in God has been weakened by prayers that seem to

have gone unanswered. Maybe you've prayed earnestly for a broken marriage to be restored,

or for a dying relative to be healed, or for a job prospect to finally come through, or for relief

from unrelenting stress, or for a companion in loneliness. But what you prayed for has not come to pass.

Maybe your love for other people has been poisoned by the pain of betrayal, or rejection, or abandonment.

And you feel like an empty shell, hollowed out, with nothing left to give. Maybe you've looked upon

the tragic horrors of this world and wondered, where is God? The Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel,

in his book Night, described the evening when he lost his faith. When alongside two grown men,

a young Jewish boy was publicly hanged on the gallows of the concentration camp. And every prisoner

was compelled to march past the gallows and to look. And he wrote of his experience that night.

He said, a voice behind me said, where is merciful God? Where is he? For God's sake, where is God?

And from within me, I heard a voice answer, where is he? This is where, hanging here from this gallows.

How do we respond when almost every sign of God's merciful presence, every bit of justice and beauty and love

seems to have vanished? When we feel not only hurt by other people, but forsaken by God himself.

I think our natural response in situations like this is to become increasingly focused on ourselves.

Perhaps we become angry and vengeful because we feel entitled to something that we're not getting.

We deserve respect. We haven't harmed others, or we deserve to be recognized for our efforts to help them.

We deserve to be better paid for our hard work. We deserve a chance to prove ourselves instead of simply being rejected.

Perhaps our anger manifests itself in complaining or gossiping or occasional bursts of rage.

Or maybe we just withdraw. We become resigned and cynical.

Part of our soul becomes hardened. Part of our soul becomes hardened. Our vision for the world becomes shrunk.

We keep our distance from God.

Maybe we don't pray very much anymore because it seems that our prayers haven't been answered.

Or maybe we distance ourselves. We separate ourselves from people who are needy and difficult to deal with.

From situations that call us to sacrifice and pour ourselves out because we don't want to make ourselves vulnerable and get hurt again.

Perhaps we take comfort in self-pity.

Well, the passage we've read tonight in Mark 15 describes a dark and bitter day.

It began early in the morning with Jesus put on trial before the political authorities, falsely accused by the religious leaders,

and sentenced to death without a just cause.

It continued with him being physically beaten and tortured by the soldiers,

mocked by the crowd, stripped of his clothing, and hung on a shameful cross.

The night before, he had been betrayed, abandoned, and denied by his closest friends.

And at noontime, darkness fell over all the land,

as if the God who had spoken light into the darkness at the beginning of creation,

who had brought order into the chaos,

had withdrawn his presence in an act of divine judgment,

as the prophet Amos had threatened.

And Jesus cried out,

My God, my God,

why have you forsaken me?

You see, everything had been stripped away from Jesus.

Every physical provision, every social support,

every emotional comfort,

and finally every tangible sign

of God the Father's merciful presence.

The presence and fellowship that he had known from all eternity as the Son of God

was removed.

Jesus cried out,

and there was no response.

There was no encouraging word,

no confirming sign,

no divine intervention.

He was bruised and crushed,

bearing the weight of human rebellion against God.

And of God's righteous indignation against our rebellion.

But in his deepest darkness,

in his most bitter agony,

Jesus did what none of us would or could have done.

He did not turn inward in self-pity.

He did not collapse in despair.

He did not burst out in vengeful anger.

He persevered

in complete trust

and obedience to God.

And he extended unfailing love

even toward his enemies.

He cried out

in the words of Psalm 22,

My God,

My God,

My God,

Why have you forsaken me?

On the surface,

it might sound like an accusation

against God.

And certainly it was an honest cry

of one from whom all

conscious awareness

of God's love

and favor

was removed

as he bore

the awful punishment

for human rebellion.

But his cry

was also

an expression of trust

in God.

He says,

My God,

My God.

He claims the God

of Psalm 22

as his God.

Psalm 22

is written 900 years

before Jesus

by King David.

It's a song

about a righteous

sufferer,

one who endures

excruciating torment,

but who continues

to rely on God

through it.

I encourage you

to read Psalm 22.

If you want to turn there,

it's page 457.

Because it's striking

how a psalm,

a poem,

a prayer

written hundreds

of years

before Jesus

describes Jesus'

specific sufferings

so well.

Let me read

just a few verses.

Psalm 22,

Psalms 22:7

verse 7.

All who see me

mock me.

They make mouths

at me.

They wag their heads.

He trusts in the Lord.

Let him deliver him.

Let him rescue him,

for he delights in him.

Verse 14.

I am poured out

like water,

and all my bones

are out of joint.

My strength

is dried up

like a potsherd,

and my mouth,

my tongue sticks

to the roof

of my mouth.

You lay me

in the dust of death.

A company of evildoers

encircles me.

They have pierced

my hands and feet.

I can count

all my bones.

They stare

and gloat over me.

They divide my garments

among them,

and for my clothing

they cast lots.

What an exact description

of Jesus' sufferings.

But in the midst

of his torment,

the psalm

also expresses trust

and complete reliance

on God.

Verse 3,

or verse 2,

says,

Oh my God,

I cry out by day,

but you do not answer,

and by night,

but I find no rest,

yet

you are holy.

enthroned upon

the praises of Israel.

In you,

our fathers trusted,

they trusted,

and you delivered them.

Further down,

verse 9,

you made me

trust in you,

even at my mother's breast.

Verse 19,

Oh Lord,

do not be far off.

Oh you,

my help,

come quickly

to my aid.

Jesus cried out to God

in the words

of this psalm,

in utter agony,

and in complete trust.

You see,

unlike the rest of us,

when we endure

such bitter agony,

Jesus was not

consumed by himself.

He was not focused

on how terrible

his circumstances were.

Even while he hung

on the cross,

he extended himself

to others

in love.

from the gospel

of Luke,

we learn that

Jesus looked upon

those who crucified him

and said,

Father,

forgive them,

for they know not

what they do.

And from the gospel

of John,

we learn that

Jesus looked upon

his mother,

about to be bereaved,

standing nearby,

along with John,

the only one

of his male disciples

who remained.

And he spoke to her

and provided a home

for her,

saying,

Woman,

behold your son,

son,

behold your mother.

Jesus looked out

upon a world

from which every trace

of God's merciful presence

seemed to have vanished.

And he persevered

to the end

in perfect obedience

to God

and in unfailing love

for us.

In this book,

The Screwtape Letters,

C.S. Lewis wrote

that the kingdom

of darkness

and evil

is never

in greater danger

than when a human being,

no longer feeling

any desire,

but still utterly

committed

to do God's will,

looks out

on a world

from which every trace

of him

has vanished,

asks why

he has been forsaken,

but still

obeys.

He said,

this obedience,

trustful obedience,

is the supreme

canceling

of Adam's fall,

the movement

by which we retrace

our long journey

away

from paradise.

It is the untying

of the old hard knot

of distrust

and disobedience

and divine judgment

in which the human race

is bound up.

The point is this,

Jesus' faithful

obedience to God

and his unfailing

love for us

on the darkest

day

of human history

won

for us

salvation,

deliverance,

hope,

life.

Jesus began

by quoting

the first

verse

of Psalm 22,

my God,

my God,

why have you

forsaken me?

But the psalm

doesn't end

there.

The psalm

begins with a cry

of abandonment,

but it ends

with a cry

of victory.

Verse 24

of the psalm

is a turning point.

It says,

God has not

despised

or abhorred

the affliction

of the afflicted.

He has not

hidden his face

from him,

but has heard

when he cried

to him.

All the ends

of the earth

shall remember

and turn

to the Lord.

Verse 30

and 31,

the concluding

verses say,

they shall come

and proclaim

his righteousness

to a people

yet unborn,

that he

has

done it.

Jesus began

by quoting

the first

verse of the psalm.

My God,

my God,

why have you

forsaken me?

But he concluded

by alluding

to the final

verse.

He has done it.

It is

finished.

Mark doesn't

record these words,

but the Gospel

of John

does.

Jesus'

last words,

his last cry,

it is finished.

In other words,

the righteous

sufferer

has remained

faithful all

the way to

the end.

Without

wavering,

without

turning away,

he has

delivered

the perfect

sacrifice

of pure

trusting

obedience

to God

the Father.

He has

accomplished

the work

that he came

to do

to offer

himself

on behalf

of us

who have

turned away.

And his

work

is complete.

He has

done it.

It is

finished.

It's a

triumphant

cry,

a cry

of victory.

As I said,

Mark doesn't

record the

words,

but he does

record the

tone.

Verse 37

of Mark

15 says,

Jesus uttered

a loud

cry

cry and

breathes

his last.

Now that

would have

been

extremely

unusual

for a

crucified

man

to die

with a

shout.

And the

Roman

centurion,

who is the

military

officer,

the policeman

responsible for

supervising the

execution,

he noticed

it.

Verse 39

says,

the centurion

saw that in

this way he

breathed his

last.

And he

said,

truly this

was the

son of

God.

You see,

the Roman

centurion knew

how a

crucified man

would usually

die by

suffocating.

because he

couldn't hold

himself up

long enough

to breathe,

being nailed

to the

cross.

He would

often drift

in and out

of consciousness

for even

one or two

days,

barely able

to utter

an intelligible

syllable

until he

would gradually

suffocate.

But Jesus

was different.

The way

that he

died

was utterly

different

from anyone

else that

centurion

had ever

seen.

Jesus

looked out

upon a

world

from which

every trace

of God's

merciful presence

had vanished.

He bore

on his

shoulders the

weight of

our rebellion

against God

and the

judgment we

deserved.

And he

persevered

in trusting

obedience to

God and

in unfailing

love for

us until

in his

last breath

he could

say,

it is

done.

It is

finished.

Truly,

this man

was the

son of

God.

Let us

pray.

God

I invite you

to pray

with me in

response to

three words

of scripture.

First,

for God

so loved

the world

that he

gave his

one and

only son

so that

whoever

believes in

him will

not perish

but have

eternal life.

Lord Jesus,

as we look

upon the

cross where

you died,

may we

believe

in you

the son

of God

and receive

this life

that you

have promised.

God

shows his

love for

us in

that while

we were

still sinners,

Christ

died

for

us.

Lord

Jesus,

may we

rest

in the

completeness

of your

sacrifice

for us.

May we

see in

your death

the most

convincing

proof

of your

love

for

us.

Let us

run with

endurance

the race

set before

us,

looking

to Jesus,

the founder

and perfecter

of faith,

who for

the joy

set before

him

endured

the cross,

despising

the shame,

and is

seated at

the right

hand of

the throne

of God.

Consider

him

so that

you may

not grow

weary

or

faint-hearted.

Grant

us,

O Lord,

in Christ

the

endurance

that we

do not

have

within

ourselves,

that even

in our

darkest

hour

and our

most bitter

days,

that we

may look

to you

and not

grow weary

or lose

heart.

May we

know

that you

have gone

before us

through a

greater

darkness,

through a

far more

bitter day.

And may we

look forward

to the joy

that you

have won

for us,

that you

have promised

us.

We pray

all these

things in

Jesus' name.

Amen.

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