It is Finished.

The skies must have been dark and gray and hanging thick with dread. There must have been a mysterious, ominous air in the surrounding city. The psychological tone must have been a dreadful mix of horror and anticipation and curiosity. Some knew that an innocent man was going to be put to death, and they were in mourning. Others knew that an innocent man was going to be put to death....and they were smirking and proud and anxious. But I can't help but feel that even those who were actively convicting Jesus and putting him to death must have felt, deep down, a sense of dread....was this really the Savior? After all, I believe that every human soul has within it a deep yearning to find and be connected to our Creator God. At some level, they knew.

Only hours earlier, Jesus had gone to the mount to pray and had pleaded with His Heavenly Father to save him. To let the cup of death pass from him. I have always appreciated this portrait of Jesus pleading before His death, because I can relate to his humanity here. In his heart of hearts, Jesus knew that this was what he was sent to earth to walk in human shoes to do. He knew that his death on the cross was imminent. Yet He knew that it would be agonizing and immensely lonely and brutal. If only there was another way? But there wasn't.

Often times, we tell the story of Jesus' death and skip over the brutal truth of it. But, the stark truth is, it was torturous. I cannot fathom the sheer weight of that cross, both physically and emotionally. The pain of the sharp rocks digging into Jesus' bare feet as he walked half-naked. The physical challenge of dragging that cross up a rugged path and then a steep hill--even being unable to bare it alone and needing help in taking up the cross--having nothing to drink and likely very little to eat in the hours leading up to His torture. And remember that Jesus had been whipped repeatedly, with sharp bones and pieces of glass, so his flesh was already ripped open and gaping and bleeding. How weak He already must have been and how overcome with physical pain, likely almost to the point of passing out. The sharp long woody thorns roughly stabbed into his head and brow, piercing sensitive skin and bleeding profusely. Somehow, as a child, I envisioned that the soldiers just set the little thorns on his head and whipped him a bit, but I don't think that's how it was....I think they pressed and stabbed as hard as they could, making sure that the thorns thrust deeply into his skull and forehead. I think they whipped him so hard so as to rip his skin and muscles wide open. The mockery. The unending scourning and hateful words thrust at Him. And that was only the beginning. The ripping flesh and cracking bones that must have occurred when he was nailed to the cross. The thirst and dehydration that undoubtedly ensued. The piercing and the mocking and the knowledge that your loved ones were in the crowd, watching this torturous death. Yes, it is gross and it is sickening and it brings burning tears to my eyes, but it is real. And I believe that we need to know, as much as we can, what the cross and Jesus' death was like so that we can fully grasp the lengths to which He would go for me and for you. I know that one day I will sit with Jesus, see and feel his scars, and hear Him tell this story in His own voice from His own heart. And I will sit mesmerized by His voice and His words and His sacrifice and His love.

And the worst part, something that we cannot even humanly fathom......Jesus was alone and apart from His Father for the first time. By taking all of our filthy disgusting sin upon himself, Jesus knew that He would be separating himself temporarily from God. Our sins were so black and dreadful and filthy and revolting that the Holy Father could not even look upon His son. And that, we are told in the Bible, was the most excruciating pain of all.

And then, after many torturous hours hanging with flesh tearing and blood flowing and organs gradually shutting down and hate being spewed from the crowd and the psychological turmoil that must have been stirring in Jesus' mind.....he said those words. Those words that resonate in my mind today: It is finished.

No, Jesus did not mean that His life was over. He knew that he would live again. It is finished. His calling in this world, God's plan for redeeming his sinful children and offering to them eternal life in paradise, was accomplished. It is finished.

And through that act, every single sinful act and thought that I, you, and every human through history committed was put to death. IT IS FINISHED. And Jesus gave up His spirit.

But, gloriously, that is not the end of the story of Good Friday. This does not end with torture and pain and death and separation and mourning. Stay tuned....the journey doesn't end here........