Good Friday: The Seven Last Words

Hi, my name is George Sinclair. I'm the lead pastor of Church of the Messiah.

! It is wonderful that you would like to check out some of the sermons done by Church of the Messiah,

either by myself or some of the others. Listen, just a couple of things. First of all, would you pray for us

that we will open God's Word well to His glory and for the good of people like yourself?

The second thing is, if you aren't connected to a church and if you are a Christian,

we really, I would really like to encourage you to find a good local church where they believe the

Bible, they preach the gospel, and if you have some trouble finding that, send us an email. We will do

what we can to help connect you with a good local church wherever you are. And if you're a non-Christian,

checking us out, we're really, really, really glad you're doing that. Don't hesitate to send us

questions. It helps me actually to know, as I'm preaching, how to deal with the types of things

that you're really struggling with. So God bless.

Welcome, those who are here, and to those who are joining us online, welcome. If you are here and you

haven't, if you've never been to one of our Good Friday services before, they're a bit of a different

format. We're going to go into the, really the heart of the service, which is going back and forward

between having a four to six minute reflection or teaching on each of the last seven last words of

Jesus. So four, five, six minutes each. And they'll be punctuated by prayer. So the first person will

come up and speak. I'll ask us all to stand and we'll have a minute or so of silence as we reflect

on what we've just heard. I'll close the silence with a prayer. And then we'll either go to the next word

or a song, but we'll go that rhythm all the way through the service. Reflections, silence, singing

of hymns and songs until the service comes to an end. And then we'll have a sort of a closing prayer

and blessing and a couple of announcements. So that's how the flow of the service will go.

So actually, let's just commend this service once again into God's hands. Father, we give you thanks

and praise that you are just as present in a group of a thousand as you are in a group of,

I don't know, 50, 60, 70 people. Father, we thank you that you love it when your people gather.

Help us to know, Father, that you are the sovereign God who loves us. Draw us into your presence and tune

our hearts to receive everything you desire to give us all the grace you desire to give us this morning.

Tune our hearts to receive that and respond in a worthy manner. And we ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.

Lisa will come and speak on the first word.

Luke 23, 34. Jesus said, Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

And they divided up his clothes by casting lots. Before the cross, Jesus was rejected by his own.

He was spit on, given a crown of thorns, whipped, and carried his own cross, which he was not able to

carry all the way. Stripped of his clothes, experiencing a very cruel death, and more.

With all of this, Jesus' first words are a prayer to God.

God, Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

With all the suffering and injustice he experienced, he prays. But he doesn't pray for himself.

He prays for the forgiveness of those who are causing his suffering.

Jesus came to take the punishment for our sins. By accepting his forgiveness, we can be with God forever.

For the forgiveness of God.

Christ forgave us and taught us to forgive others.

I looked up what forgiveness causes, and this is what I found.

Unforgiveness causes severe physical, mental, spiritual harm, acting as a toxic burden that leads to chronic stress,

high blood pressure, depression, and weakened immunity.

It fosters deep-seated bitterness, rage, and resentment, while damaging relationships

and hindering our personal growth by keeping a person trapped in the past.

In light of this, it seems fitting that Jesus' first words are,

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

Jesus knows that unforgiveness hinders us and causes a barrier with our relationship with God.

To forgive means to excuse a fault, absolve from payment, pardon, send away, cancel, and bestow favor unconditionally.

I was brought up in a Christian home.

We went to church. We were very involved.

I accepted Christ when I was nine, went to Sunday school, VBS, youth group, a Christian high school.

In the middle school, we were seen as the perfect family.

But behind the scenes, it was not so perfect.

I grew up in a household where I had to obey and not question, otherwise I was punished.

I couldn't ask questions about my faith. I was told to just believe.

I was a sensitive child and didn't like conflict. I did what I was told.

Being the eldest, the roles were stricter for me than my younger siblings.

I was set as an example.

My household was an abusive household.

There was arguing, deceit, and sexual abuse.

I was taken out of the house at 14, and at that point, I can choose if I was going to follow God or not.

I always knew that Jesus was with me, so I continued to follow Jesus.

Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling.

I knew Jesus wanted me to forgive my father.

Being brought up to obey, I did forgive him.

My foster mother told me that I could ask God any questions and go to him if I was angry, sad, mad, really anything.

With this new information, I learned that asking questions is something God wants us to do.

I wanted to learn and understand my faith more.

I wanted to understand what forgiveness was and what it meant.

I learned I had to forgive in different levels.

My father knew what he was doing was wrong, and I had to forgive him.

Later, I realized I needed to forgive my mother for not protecting me.

She did not know what to do, and she was under my father's wrath.

She was trapped, but I forgave her.

My younger brothers, about seven years younger than I, were told lies about me,

and as a result, they were mean to me and hurtful.

They did not know what they were doing.

I had to forgive them.

Different levels of forgiveness.

I knew I had to forgive them, even though they did not ask for forgiveness.

This was for my own peace, and I gave them and the situation to God to deal with.

There is also an everyday forgiveness that God has shown me.

Forgiving those in our lives that are close, our family, parents, husbands, children, friends, workmates.

They can do or say things that can hurt us, whether we know it or not.

Be quick to forgive them.

As well.

Holding on to hurt only hurts us and our relationship with God and others.

We even need to forgive those we don't know that cause us inconvenience or pain.

We need to pray for all and believe that God will take care of their side of the situation,

and we need to take care of our side of the situation with God's help.

Mark 11, 22 to 26 teaches us that forgiveness hinders our faith from working.

The Father can't forgive our sins if we don't forgive other people.

Jesus freely forgives us.

Jesus freely forgives us.

We are to forgive others.

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

God, our Creator, loves us so much, He showed it by sending His Son, Jesus, to bridge the gap that our sin causes between us and God.

He knew what His Son was going to go through, yet He still sent Him.

Jesus fully submitted Himself to God.

Paul encourages us in Philippians 2 to be like Christ.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.

Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but to the interests of others.

Have the mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,

who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God something to be grasped,

but emptied Himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in likeness of men, and being found in human form,

He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Therefore, God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name,

so that the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Amen.

I invite you to stand.

We'll have a minute or so of silent prayer.

Father, we marvel and rejoice that you are omniscient, that you know all things, you see all things,

and we give you thanks and praise.

Our mind can't really ever fully understand it,

that knowing every single thing there is to know about us,

that still you desire to forgive us, and so your Son came to die on the cross,

that by our faith and trust in Him we might be forgiven of every sin we have ever done.

We ask, Father, that you would bring that truth deep into our hearts.

We ask, Father, that you would help us to die to all vain attempts to forgive ourselves,

but instead that you might bring before our hearts, our minds, our eyes,

the true and real and deep and eternal forgiveness that is offered to us from yourself,

to each one of us.

And we ask, Father, that as that truth becomes more real to us,

and we are able to stand, that you would help us to be people who forgive,

that that might more and more be what characterizes us, that we forgive.

And we ask these things in the name of Jesus, your Son and our Savior. Amen.

I ask you be seated, and Uzo will speak on the second word.

The second word of Jesus is from Luke chapter 23, verses 43.

Luke 23:43

It says,

Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.

So now, just some brief context for this verse.

Just in this scene, Jesus has been crucified, and alongside both sides of him,

two people who are accused of being thieves.

One of them mocks Jesus, saying to him,

If you are so innocent, how come you are up here with us?

The other says,

The other asks him in humility for mercy,

and to him, Jesus responds,

Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.

Now, this meditation will entail me drawing your attention to three words in this sentence

that I find to be particularly revealing.

First word is, truly.

Truly here showcases Jesus' seriousness and sincerity.

Oftentimes in scripture, Jesus will,

when he intends to communicate something with particular sincerity,

he says,

Truly, truly, I say to you,

or verily I say to you.

Here in this scene, to a criminal, he says,

Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.

And so, by saying this,

he showcases the sincerity of his promise,

which underscores our hope of assurance

for forgiveness and salvation

once we profess Christ

and ask for his mercy and humility.

The second word is you.

You here referring to the criminal.

Now, some might think it's scandalous

that a criminal would receive promise of paradise

just like that.

There is a common notion,

or cognitive bias, if you will,

amongst modern society,

wherein, if God forgives

the worst person you know,

or the worst person in history,

whoever that may be,

this warrants some query against God.

However, if you were to forgive me,

or us,

then that's understandable

because our sins aren't that bad.

This reveals a false sense of entitlement

that we have

to being consulted

or having a say as to who God

can show mercy to.

If this is the case,

a question then arises,

who has a say as to whether God

shows mercy on us?

And furthermore,

would it be a favorable decision?

Perhaps, instead of worrying about

how God can show grace to another person,

we should ask how he can show grace to us,

and then rejoice that he has.

The last word is today.

Now, in the traditional interpretation,

we are given to understand

that this showcases the immediacy

of our being with Christ upon our death.

This offers some comfort,

hope in the face of death.

However, in my brief research,

there exists some debate

over whether the word today

should appear after the comma,

as I read before,

or before the comma,

such that it now reads,

truly I tell you,

truly I tell you today,

you will be with me in paradise.

Now, for some,

this shift creates doubt,

uncertainty about their fate

prior to Christ's second coming,

but after their death.

It offers not hope,

but now fear,

fear due to uncertainty,

fear due to the unknown.

But I submit that

what should in fact offer us hope

is the essence,

the core of the promise,

and not the exact time

of the promise being fulfilled.

A quick argument to illustrate,

and then to conclude.

Premise one,

if we can trust Christ's character,

then it doesn't really matter

when the promise is fulfilled.

To support this,

think about it.

If the scripture shows

Christ's character to be trustworthy,

and his words to be sincere,

then does it really matter

when the promise is fulfilled?

If the scripture were to tell us

the exact time

the promise were to be fulfilled,

but also in the same scriptures,

we see Jesus,

Jesus' words being lies,

his character being untrustworthy,

would that really bring you clarity?

Premise two,

and so therefore,

if Christ's character is trustworthy,

then it doesn't really matter.

If his character is not trustworthy,

then it doesn't really matter.

Premise two,

we can trust Christ's character,

fortunately,

and by way of support here,

1 Peter 2 verse 6 says,

1 Peter 2:6

whoever puts his trust in him

will not be put to shame.

Conclusion,

therefore,

after we die,

it doesn't really matter

when we get to be with Christ.

For he said,

we will be with him,

and so we shall.

Thank you.

I invite you to stand

for a minute or so

of silent prayer.

Thank you.

Father,

we thank you that we can gather,

and in the background here,

the quiet,

friendly,

safe,

murmuring of children,

and at the same time,

in the distance,

the sound of sirens.

But Father,

whether it is the comforting noises

or the noises of great distress,

we give you thanks and praise

that Jesus is our true shepherd,

and that when it comes

our time to walk

through the valley

of the shadow

of the veil of death,

that we will not walk alone

if we have put our faith

and trust in Jesus.

We thank you,

Father,

that like the thief

on the cross

who is penitent,

you have not weighed

our merits

but pardoned our offenses.

And Father,

whether the theologians

who think we are

immediately in your presence

or we sleep

and whatever it is

they say,

we know that we will

be with Jesus,

that he will care for us,

and that we will see him

face to face

and be granted

resurrected bodies

in paradise

for all eternity.

So we ask,

Father,

that you build within us

a sure and certain hope

of our Lord and Savior,

Jesus Christ,

triumph over death

and our sharing

in his victory

by humble faith.

And we ask this

in the name of Jesus,

your Son and our Savior.

Amen.

Please be seated

for the third word.

Reading from

John 19,

26 to 27.

But standing

by the cross

of Jesus

were his mother

and his mother's sister,

Mary,

the wife of Clopas

and Mary Magdalene.

When Jesus saw

his mother

and the disciple

whom he loved

standing nearby,

he said to his mother,

woman,

behold your son.

Then he said

to the disciple,

behold your mother.

And from that hour

the disciple

took her

to his own home.

A son

looking

into the eyes

of his mother.

A mother

looking into the eyes

of her son.

The son

dripping,

stained,

exposed,

looks out

to the masses

who jeer

and laugh

and lock eyes

with the tender gaze

of his mother

watching her son.

Her son

she first heard

about from the angel.

Her son

she swaddled

and soothed.

Her son

who held her hand

and all her hope

now hung destitute

in front of her.

He initiates

with her.

Behold,

woman,

behold your son.

His eyes

now shift focus

to his disciple.

Behold your mother.

He calls out,

pulling himself up

to get the words out.

Collapsing,

back down

in exhale

exhaustion.

What of his brothers?

His uncles?

Surely there are

other family members

to take care

of his mother.

Mary's own sister

is there beside her.

Yet he

in his last moments

redraws

the lines

of responsibility

delegating

a loved disciple

to care

for his mother.

To stand

in his place

as the son

that he needs

as the son

that she needs

to protect

and provide for.

But Jesus knows

the disciple

offers something

different to Mary

than potentially

a relative could.

Though all Mary

can see

is deep loss,

broken dreams,

and oppressive darkness,

Jesus,

in frailty,

speaks words

that denote

attuned attention

to her physical needs,

yes,

but also

to her spiritual need.

Is this beloved disciple

one who has

economic means

to protect his mother

and provide for her

in such a vulnerable

stage of life?

Humble means possibly,

but nothing lavish.

We don't really know,

but surely

this disciple

affords her

something much

more valuable.

He keeps her

right where

she needs to be

to be reminded

of Jesus,

his teachings,

his actions,

to be reminded

of his promises

in miracles

and wonders,

to be in the community

of people

who would mourn

him deepest

and who saw

him rightly.

Yes,

but even more,

what this disciple

does ensure

is that he would

keep her

right where

she needs to be

to be amongst

the first

who would see

him raised

from the dead,

amongst the first

to see death

conquered

and fear

and loss

mended.

Yes,

this would place

her right

in the front row

of beholding

his resurrection

power,

seeing her

scatter hopes

and dreams

rebuilt

into a more

glorious narrative

than could ever

be imagined.

A grafting

into a new family,

God's people

reconstituted

around the

resurrected Christ,

a new line

that centers

on him

that supersedes

bloodlines,

open to all

nations.

As he looks

after her

temporary security,

he is moments

away from

securing her

eternity

and all those

who look to him.

His eyes

are somehow

on her

in his moments

of agony.

His eyes

are somehow

on you

in those moments

of agony,

a son

looking into

the eyes

of his mother,

a mother

looking into

the eyes

of her son.

I invite you

to stand,

please.

We'll have a

minute or so

of silent prayer.

father,

we give you

thanks and

praise

that we

are reminded

of your

great tenderness

and kindness

towards us.

Father,

bring deep

within our

hearts

that we

will never

meet anyone

more kind

or more tender

than you.

you are

tenderness

and kindness

itself.

Father,

we ask

that you

continue

to look

upon us.

Some of us,

fathers,

struggle

with great

wounds

and great

loss.

Some of us,

fathers,

struggle with

deep fears.

Fears

and loss

and wounds

that are so

deep we feel

uncomfortable

even allowing

others to know

about it.

But you know.

And so,

father,

we ask

that you

would look

upon us,

continue tenderly

and lovingly

and with

kindness.

That you

minister to

those of us

who struggle

with great

loss and

great wounds

that we

might know

your tender

comfort.

And,

father,

reveal to us

as to whether

there are

people with

whom we

can share.

We know

there are,

father.

You have

put each

other,

you have

put us

in a

one another

life.

That you

use your

children to

help us

bear our

burden.

So,

father,

draw us

again to

your tender

heart.

And we

ask this

in Jesus'

name.

Amen.

Remain

seated.

Please

be seated

as we

will have

Shannon

bring the

fourth

word.

The

fourth

word

comes from

Mark 15

Mark 15:34

verses

34.

And at

the ninth

hour,

Jesus

cried with

a loud

voice,

Eloi,

Eloi,

lema

sabachthani,

which means

my God,

my God,

why have

you forsaken

me?

I'm not

very good

at memorizing

scripture.

Maybe some

of you can

relate.

I never

have been,

and I seem

to have

plenty of

excuses as

to why I'm

not good

at it and

don't do it

as much as

I should

or could.

But if I'm

being honest

with myself,

it's really

just a matter

of it being

an underdeveloped

skill, a

muscle that I

haven't put to

very much use.

As technology

has progressed

and smartphones

have made

us dumber,

the muscle

of memorization

has atrophied,

and it's

to our

detriment,

our mental

and spiritual

detriment.

In Mark

Mark 15:34

15,

verse 34,

Jesus shows

the incredible

spiritual power

of scripture

memorization.

We see how

knowing the

scriptures isn't

just a functional,

robotic response

that we expect

is going to help

us to deal

with the

challenges of

life.

Rather,

it is a

deeply

theological

and spiritual

experience.

Memorizing

sacred texts

was and

is an

essential part

of Judaism,

as it is

for many

cultures with

strong oral

traditions.

Teachers like

Jesus and

Paul would

have memorized

vast swaths

of the Old

Testament,

putting many

of us modern

Christians to

shame.

And not just

teachers,

but followers

as well.

We typically

view memorizing

scripture as

a helpful tool

in times of

trouble,

a way to

encourage us,

to lift us

up,

and to

remind us of

bigger and

better things.

And while

that can

be and

is all

good and

true,

what I love

about Jesus'

own use of

memorized

scripture in

this passage

is that he

chose a

rather strange

and un-uplifting

verse to

recite.

it's fair to

assume that

Jesus would

have known

by heart

several,

if not all,

of the

Psalms.

There were

so many

others he

could have

chosen.

Psalm 23,

for example,

would have

been a great

one to use

in that

moment.

I'm sure

many other

martyrs

have.

But in

Mark 1534,

Jesus chooses

Psalm 22,

a passage of

unequivocal

lament.

Interestingly,

he quotes it,

I just realized

this,

he quotes it

in Aramaic.

the Hebrew

Bible was

not written

in Aramaic.

He chooses

to use the

language that

speaks to his

heart.

So I think

that's a plug

for translating

scripture and

knowing it in

your own

language,

in your heart

language.

He uses it

the same way

the author

had,

to cry out,

to voice a

deep,

guttural

desperation,

despair that

he felt in

that moment,

a moment when

he was separated

from the very

God he chose

to obey.

This is a

scripture passage

that opens with

a line that

is dangerously

close to an

accusation toward

God.

Why have you

forsaken me?

This is the line

that Jesus quotes.

He's not afraid to

express frustration,

desperation,

and deep,

deep disappointment.

In fact,

I believe he uses

this unexpected,

unconventional,

memorized passage

precisely to

express the

deeply human

emotion of

loss.

He's embodying

a core part

of humanity

in this fallen

world.

Like his

entrance into

our earthly

realm as an

embryo,

then a fetus,

then a helpless

baby,

his empathy

with us in

the deepest

and lowest

elements of

life reverberates

through this

prayer.

In this

moment,

he prays a

priestly prayer

that both

expresses his

humanity and

paves a path

for us in

ours.

Hebrews 5

tells us,

during the

days of

Jesus'

life on

earth,

he offered

up prayers

and petitions

with fervent

cries and

tears to

the one who

could have

saved him

from death.

And he was

heard because

of his

reverent

submission.

The

scriptures

invite us

to pray

through our

suffering,

not to

repress it,

not to

silence the

pain,

but to

cry through

it.

Do you

realize how

unique this

is to

Christianity?

Jesus is

showing a

natural response

to the

unnatural

reality of

death and

separation from

our father.

He's using

spirit-breathed

scripture to

express it.

And he was

doing it out

of reverence

and obedience.

The gospels

record our

Lord crying

out this

very real,

very raw

prayer because

they are

pointing us

to and

teaching us

through a

theology of

suffering.

Christ's

personal

experience with

pain and

his unashamed

use of

such a

vulnerable and

dark passage

of the Bible

acknowledges our

own suffering.

It shows us

how because of

his choice to

be forsaken,

completely forsaken,

to follow through

with the worst

thing possible

means that we

will never be

fully forsaken.

This morning,

I heard an

interview with a

famous pastor,

many of you

would know him,

who was facing

a terminal

illness a few

years ago.

He very wisely

and simply

said,

if Jesus Christ

has been risen

from the dead,

that means

everything will

be okay,

but that doesn't

mean you stop

crying.

Jesus shows us

that it's okay

to grieve,

to wail,

to question,

and to cry out

at the searing

pain of feeling

forgotten,

forsaken.

But because of

his grief,

we know ours

will eventually

come to an end,

as his did.

Psalm 22

ends,

and Jesus

would have

likely,

well,

he would have

memorized the

whole thing

and known it

as well as

the beginning.

And it goes

like this,

all the rich

of the earth

will feast

and worship.

All who go

down to the dust

will kneel

before him,

those who cannot

keep themselves

alive.

Posterity will

serve him.

Future generations

will be told

about the Lord.

They will

proclaim his

righteousness,

declaring to a

people yet

unborn,

he has

done it.

Jesus'

lament

wasn't,

that was not

his last word

on this earth

as a human.

Because of his

lament and the

scorn he faced,

he could later

declare,

it is finished.

I invite you

to stand for a

minute or so

of silent prayer.

Father,

we know there's

nothing necessarily

wrong with

Hallmark cards

and other greeting

cards,

but we thank and

praise you that you

have not called us

to be Hallmark

people,

but Bible

people.

We give you

thanks and praise

that your word

is just filled

with promises

too wild and

crazy for ever

to be made

by a Hallmark

card.

And at the same

time,

your word

touches the

very depths

and hardest

parts of human

experience,

the hardest

parts of fear

and anxiety

and shame,

that your word,

Father,

covers the whole

range and gamut

of human emotion

and human

experience.

And so,

Father,

always mindful

of Jesus

and what he did

for us on the

cross,

in light of his

death upon the

cross and his

resurrection,

help us to be,

to read and

know your Bible.

And help us,

Father,

to so read and

know your Bible

and in that

light,

understand Jesus

and his death

upon the cross

better and better

and better.

We ask,

Father,

that you help

us to have

minds that are

furnished by

your word,

saturated by

your word,

are purified

and healed

by your word.

Father,

make us Bible

people as

your son was.

And we ask

this in Jesus'

name.

Amen.

Please be

seated for

the fifth

word.

The fifth

word comes

from John

John 19:28

19,

verse 28.

After this,

Jesus,

knowing that

all was now

finished,

said to

fulfill the

scripture,

I thirst.

Exhausted,

dehydrated,

and losing

blood,

Jesus surely

would have been

thirsty.

I can only

imagine how

parched he

would have

been.

But as I

sat with

these words,

what came to

mind was the

powerful imagery

of thirstiness

elsewhere in the

Bible.

Israelites

wandering in

the wilderness,

testing God,

and God

ultimately

splitting open

the rock at

Horeb to

quench their

thirst.

Take care,

lest you forget

the Lord your

God,

who brought

you out of

the land of

Egypt,

out of the

house of

slavery,

who led you

through the

great and

terrifying

wilderness

with its

fiery serpents

and scorpions

and thirsty

ground,

where there was

no water,

who brought you

water out of

the flinty

rock.

The thirst of

Samson after

killing a

thousand Philistines,

again quenched

by God,

splitting open

the earth.

And Samson was

very thirsty,

and he called

upon the Lord

and said,

You have

granted this

great salvation

by the hand

of your servant,

and shall I

now die of

thirst and fall

into the hands

of the uncircumcised?

And God split

open the hollow

place that is

at Lehi,

and water

came out of

it.

And when

Samson drank,

his spirit

returned and

he revived.

The sons of

Korah in

Psalm 42

crying out,

As a deer

pants for

flowing streams,

so pants

my soul

for you,

O God.

My soul

thirsts for

God,

for the

living God.

When shall

I come

and appear

before God?

The words

of Jesus

himself in

the Beatitudes,

blessed are

those who

hunger and

thirst for

righteousness,

for they

shall be

satisfied.

And of

course,

Jesus'

promise of

living water

in his

conversation

with the

Samaritan

woman.

Jesus said

to the

woman,

Everyone who

drinks of

Jacob's well

will be

thirsty again,

but whoever

drinks of

the water

that I

will give

him or

her will

never be

thirsty

again.

In these

passages,

we see

God's

provision,

we see

answers to

prayer in

times of

thirstiness,

we see

God's

people

thirsting

after him,

and ultimately

we see

Jesus promising

a spring of

water welling

up to

eternal life.

So,

what do I

make of

Jesus hanging

on the

cross,

thirsty and

about to

die?

I see

the Christ

physically

thirsty,

yet unlike

for the

Israelites

and Samson,

there is

no spring

of fresh

water.

That day

there will

be no

revival.

There is

simply a

sponge of

sour wine,

one final

swallow to

fulfill the

prophecy at

Psalm 69

21.

They gave

me poison

for food,

and for my

thirst they

gave me sour

wine to

drink.

I see

the Christ,

thirsty

for God

and his

righteousness,

the only

one who

lived a

perfect life.

I see

the paradox

of Jesus

having lived

his whole

life doing

the will

of the

Father and

living in

absolute

harmony with

him,

willingly

accepting to

come and

appear before

God to

die a

criminal and

a sinner.

And I

ultimately

see the

Christ for

the first

time,

cut off

and forsaken

by the

Father,

freely

absorbing my

sin,

your sin,

the vileness

of everything

we have

ever done

wrong,

willingly

submitting to

God's judgment

for that

wrongdoing.

Two thousand

years later,

it can be

easy to gloss

over what

actually happened

that day on

the cross.

We can see

it as some

abstract thing,

a sleight of

hand, in

which we

magically come

out justified

on the other

side.

Yet it

involved the

immeasurable

pain of a

father sacrificing

his only and

beloved son.

There was no

last-minute

substitution of

a ram.

It involved

the father

watching the

son suffer

beyond our

comprehension.

We're not

talking just

physical pain,

but the

crushing

weight, the

crushing

conviction of

our sin.

And it

involved the

father restraining

himself as

the son cried

out, I

thirst.

Desperate for

water, no

doubt, but

more desperate

to remain in

unbroken

relationship with

the father.

The cry goes

unanswered

that day.

And ultimately,

it involved the

father's wrath,

falling on that

beloved son,

not because the

son deserved

it, but because

they both loved

us so much.

Why?

Why would the

father and the

son do this?

Because they

understood it was

the only way that

you and I get to

drink the living

water, so that

when we die, we

can confidently say,

I thirst, and

know that our

thirst will be

satisfied.

I invite you to

stand for a minute

or so of silent

prayer.

Father, we

give you thanks

and praise that

you have not

removed from

human hearts a

longing and

desire and a

yearning to

know you.

You know,

Father, that

there is a part

deep within each

of us that,

just like Adam

and Eve hid

from you in the

garden, so we

would rather have

terrible fig leaves

around us and

hide in bushes

than be present

with you.

you.

But even in the

midst of that

very important

and deep-rooted

part of us, you

have left within

our hearts a

longing for you.

And we give you

thanks and praise

that on the

cross, your

son opened that

pathway that we

might know you

and that we

might have our

thirst for you

quenched, our

hunger for you

satisfied, that

all our longings

and yearnings

ultimately can

come to fruition,

not because of

our great longings

and yearnings, but

because of your

great love for us

and what your

son has done.

We ask, Father,

that you fan

into flame within

us ever deeper

and more full a

longing and

yearning for that

day when in

Jesus we will

see, Father, you

in the company

and the presence

of the Holy

Spirit.

And we ask

these things in

Jesus' name.

Amen.

We'll be seated

as we hear

Scott bring us

reflections on

the sixth word.

It is finished

in the

thirtieth

verse of the

nineteenth chapter

of the Gospel

of John.

John writes,

When he had

received the

drink, Jesus

said, it is

finished.

With that, he

bowed his head

and gave up

his spirit.

John, the

Gospel writer,

uses the

Greek word

tetelestai for

the phrase, it

is finished.

And this

definitely does

convey the

idea of

something being

finished or

completed and

it was sometimes

a phrase used

in the ancient

world to reflect

the payment of

a debt or the

payment of a

bill of some

kind.

But in

thinking about

this a little

bit further,

and as others

have mentioned,

we probably

think of Jesus

speaking from

the cross in

Aramaic, even

though John was

writing in Greek.

And so what

would it have

been like in

Aramaic?

As best as we

can tell, it

was probably a

phrase like

mashalim, which

is similar in

meaning to the

Greek, but it

was a phrase

specifically used

to indicate the

completion of a

sacrifice.

It certainly

had other

meanings,

completion,

perfection,

peace, and

these could

relate to the

fulfillment of

a plan or a

debt, but

principally it

was about the

ritual end of

a sacrifice.

In the most

basic sense,

over the years

Christians have

thought that this

phrase, it is

finished, was

Jesus saying

that he had

completed his

earthly mission,

paid for the

sins of

humanity, and

fulfilled

prophecy.

Sometimes one

of these aspects

is given more

weight than

others, and

it's worth

considering each

one of them

briefly, and

of course they

do interrelate

as well.

First, it

clearly represents

the end of his

earthly mission.

mission.

The important

point here, I

believe, is that

it was a mission

that he pursued

and controlled

of his own

volition and

will, consistent

with the

Father.

So, he

knew that he

was completing

a mission to

pay for the

sins of

humanity, and

this was

something that

was pursued in

a structured way

that he was

well aware

of.

He was not

an unwilling

victim.

He had set

his face to

go toward

Jerusalem, as

Luke says in

his gospel, and

he knew what

was involved in

the physical

completion of

his mission.

And the

second element,

briefly worth

noting, was

that he was to

be the

sacrifice for

the sins of

humanity.

humanity.

The symbolism

and the

concepts here

have been

probably

elaborated more

than some of

the other

meanings that

can be

associated with

this phrase.

His death

basically atones

for the sins

of humanity,

and this is

often referred to

with phrases

like substitutionary

atonement,

although we

can often

think of this

in highly

personalized

ways as well

in terms of

our own

experience,

rather than

theological

reasoning.

Third, and

underlying all

of the final

words, and

not just this

one certainly,

Christ has

fulfilled the

prophecies from

the Old or

the First

Testament, or

the Tanakh, if

you prefer, just

about every step

of the approach

to Jerusalem,

his triumphs,

his trials,

and his

crucifixion, is

rooted in the

prophecies of

the Old

Testament,

principally parts

of the Psalms

and Isaiah, but

certainly other

books are

involved as

well.

Probably the

most, to me

anyway, vivid

and striking

illustration of

this from a

symbolic perspective

is that prior

to saying it

is finished, he

does say, I

thirst, and he

did slake his

thirst by drinking

of the sour

wine.

And symbolically,

this really

represents the

drinking of the

cup of God's

wrath as a

way of consuming

responsibility for

the sins of the

human race.

And once that

is done, then the

whole process of

atonement in its

immediate sense has

been completed.

and this is a

symbolism that

occurs in some

other parts of

the scripture as

well.

Finally, it's

worth noting,

apart from

specific words

and meanings,

that the

tenses and the

structure of the

writing in John's

gospel at this

point suggest

that this is

not just

something that

has happened

once, this is

something that

has been

structured in the

past to happen.