Good Friday Sermon
Notes
Transcript
Good evening everyone, thank you for joining us on this holy day. We’ll begin our service with the reading of Psalm 95, verses 6 and 7:
Oh come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker! For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.
Let’s Pray:
Father we remember today, the pain and suffering of the cross, and all that Jesus was willing to endure, so we could be set free. He paid the price, such a great sacrifice, to offer us the gift of eternal life.
Help us never to take for granted this huge gift of love on our behalf. Help us to be reminded of the cost of it all. Forgive us for being too busy, or distracted by other things, for not fully recognizing what you freely given, what you have done for us.
Thank you, Lord, that by your wounds we are healed. Thank you that because of your huge sacrifice we can live free. Thank you that sin and death have been conquered and that your Power is everlasting.
Thank you that we can say with great hope, “It is finished…” For we know what’s still to come. And death has lost its sting. We praise you for you are making all things new. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
Sermon
Our scripture this evening is from the book of Genesis, chapter 3, verses 14-15:
The LORD God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all livestock and above all beasts of the field; on your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life.
“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”
And now the Gospel of John, chapter 19, verses 28-30:
After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.”
A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
And this is the word of the Lord.
This day is many things to Christians.
It is a holy day because of the breadth and length and depth of God’s faithfulness.
It is a joyous day because it proves to us the depth and height of God’s love.
It is a sorrowful day because the gulf between God and humanity could only be bridged by the suffering and death of Christ.
But most of all, it is a day of intention. On that Friday long ago when Christ hung on the cross, the few followers gathered there believed it was the end.
They were partly right. It was the beginning of the end, but not in the way they feared.
It wasn’t the end of Jesus. It wasn’t the end of his ministry. But it was the beginning of the end of the oldest prophesy in the Bible, there in the third chapter of Genesis. And that prophecy was about the coming Messiah.
After Adam and Eve’s rebellion, God sent his punishment. God told the serpent he would put enmity between the serpent and Eve, between the serpent’s offspring and Eve’s—meaning that for the rest of history, there would be a battle between righteousness and sin, good and evil.
But then there’s a subtle shift in verse 15. God mentions Eve’s offspring, and then there is mention of a very specific “he”—the one who would crush Satan’s head. That one is Christ.
“You shall bruise his heel,” God says to the serpent. That is a direct call to what happened on that Friday. It’s Christ on the cross.
“But,” God says, “he (meaning Christ) will crush your head.” And that is a direct call to what would happen on Easter Sunday.
It’s amazing, isn’t it? Even before we existed, God knew the dark path that sin would lead humanity down, and he already had a plan for our deliverance and salvation.
That plan likely took thousands of years to unfold. It unfolded through prophets, through patriarchs, through people much like you and me.
And then that plan came to a glorious but violent conclusion on that first Good Friday, on a cross bearing our Lord, and that is why as his last words, Jesus spoke, “It is finished.”
It is finished.
John wrote his Gospel in Greek. In Greek, those last words of Christ are just one word. It’s the word tetelestai (te-tel-es-ty).
Tetelestai—it is finished.
It was an expression that would be known well to those gathered around Calvary that afternoon. Tetelestai was a part of their everyday language. People used that word daily.
When a servant completed a difficult job that his master had given him to do, he would go to his master and say, “I have overcome all the difficulties. I have done the job you gave me. Telelestai — It is finished.”
When the Jewish people went to the temple to offer their sacrifice, the High Priest would examine the animal or the bird that was brought. The High Priest wouldn’t speak Greek, but he would use the Hebrew equivalent: “Tetelestai—your offering is accepted. It is perfect. It is complete. It is finished.”
When a merchant in the marketplace made a sale and money and goods were exchanged, he would say “Tetelestai—the deal is finished. The price has been paid in full. We are both satisfied.”
When an artist finished a masterpiece, he would stand back and say, “There is nothing more that I could do to make this piece of art more perfect. This work is complete. Tetelestai—it is finished.”
When a child recited a difficult passage of scripture to his or her father, the father would say, “Tetelestai—Well done, my child. I am very proud of you.”
All of those gathered at Calvary that day, the servants and the ones who sacrificed at the temple, the buyers and sellers in the marketplace, the artists, the parents, the children, they all understood what Jesus said. They just couldn’t understand yet what Jesus meant.
“It is finished.” But what is finished?
The work, the effort, the sacrifice to heal the gap between our sinfulness and God’s holiness.
Our offenses to God was finished. The cost of our disobedience. The broken relationship between heaven and earth that tore not only the heart of every man and woman who has ever or will ever live, but also tore the very heart of the world — every mountain, every animal, every flower and blade of grass.
That is what Jesus finished.
Christ died on the cross to finish the power that sin had to condemn us. His death was the first step in allowing us to come boldly to the throne of God, to stand before him spotless not because we are perfect, but because Christ was perfect for us.
The work to restore the friendship between God and man was finished. The task that God had in sending his son to earth was finished. The war to win forgiveness for all people was finished.
Nothing else needed to be done. Redemption was complete. Tetelestai—Salvation is finished.
That is why we call the worst day of Jesus’s life Good Friday. He endured pain that we cannot imagine. He suffered an agony of the soul we cannot comprehend.
We look away in horror at what happened to our Lord on that day, but we should instead look directly at the cross, because there is proof of the powerful love that God has for you.
Because upon that cross we see a love that endured the ultimate shame, the ultimate suffering, the ultimate absence of God, in order to rescue us.
This is a strange day for a lot of us. We don’t know how to feel. Heartbroken for all the suffering that Jesus endured, yet thankful for it. Driven to despair, but also driven to hope. Completely aware of God’s holiness and judgment, but also overwhelmed by his forgiveness and love.
I urge you to feel all of those things these next two days, both the painful parts and the parts that give you joy. Think about them. Pray about them. Tuck them away in your heart.
Christ felt all things on this day. We should experience them as well, even if they are only the barest shadow of what he felt.
Every world religion was founded by a man who said, “Follow me, and you can find God.” All of them except for one.
Christianity is the only religion founded by a one who said, “I’m God, and I’ve come to find you.”
And it’s because complete, total, and uncompromising love is the very nature of God — because that is God’s very heart — the only way for him to come and find us was to face head-on the consequences of sin: Suffering. Agony. Loss.
This is a holy day. This day above all others is a day to know without doubt that we are fallen creatures, sinful creatures, less than we were made to be. But there is also hope.
In our days of hurting and loss, in our days when all light feels gone and darkness covers every inch of our lives, when it seems as if there is no one to love us, no one to care for us, no one there at all, we can look to the one who hung on the cross.
We can look to the one who took on the punishment we deserve. We can see the pain in his eyes, and the incredible love, and we can hear those last words spoken to us alone:
Tetelestai. It is finished.
No more doubt. No more fear. No more worry. I have come and now I am leaving, but I will come again for you. I will take you home with me, and you will live forever in a paradise that flows with more peace than you can imagine and more joy than you can possible know.
And in the meantime, I leave you with a hope that can overcome all troubles. A hope that will carry you whenever you stumble. A hope paid for by my love for you.
Let’s pray:
Father when we think of the cross on this night we think of your terrible suffering. We think of the people at the cross who loved you, who looked on in despair and confusion for what they felt was an end. And we know, Father, that it was an end. It was the end of hopelessness. It was the end of loneliness. It was the end of a long struggle to mend the gap between a loving God and a fallen creation. We are so thankful for that in our hearts. Now help us to be thankful in our lives. Help us to live in the victory you attained. Help us to live like we are loved. For it’s in Jesus’s name we ask it, Amen.
Will you please stand for our responsive benediction, printed in your bulletin.
Pastor: We give praise to You, our crucified Lord!
Worshippers: Worthy are You, Jesus, Lamb of God, Who was slain, to receive power and wisdom and might, honor and glory and blessing! Amen.