Forgiveness Friday

We stand tonight at the foot of a cross that has not yet been raised in history, but has already been painted in words by a prophet seven centuries before it happened. Isaiah saw, in shadow and silhouette, what the apostles would one day see in blood and wood: the suffering of the Servant of the Lord for the sins of His people. Good Friday is not the story of a plan gone wrong; it is the day when an eternal plan, whispered in prophecy, is carried out in public. As we prepare to come to the Lord’s Table, I want us to walk quietly through Isaiah 53:3–12 and see how it leads us straight to Calvary, and then to our own hearts.

Tonight, we will move in four brief steps:

Behold the Man of Sorrows.

See prophecy fulfilled at the cross.

Feel the weight of our sin and His substitution.

Come to the Table, where the Servant’s suffering becomes our salvation.

1. Behold the Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53:3–4)

“*He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.*”

Isaiah begins by describing a Person who is deeply familiar with pain, grief, and rejection. Not a distant deity insulated from human misery, but a Servant who walks into it, feels it, carries it. “Despised” means treated as worthless, dismissed, unwanted. “Rejected” means pushed away, not chosen, considered a failure.

When we turn to the Gospels on that first Good Friday, we see this prophecy come to life. Jesus is betrayed by a friend, abandoned by His followers, falsely accused by religious leaders, mocked by soldiers, and jeered by the crowds. The One to whom heaven cries “Holy” is treated by earth as an embarrassment. He knew what it was to be misunderstood, misrepresented, and unwanted.

Then verse 4 adds a tragic twist: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.” Isaiah says He was carrying our griefs, our sorrows, but the world looked at Him and thought, “He must be cursed by God.” At the cross, people saw His suffering and assumed God was against Him, when in fact He was standing in our place under the judgment we deserved.

Brothers and sisters, the cross does not show you a cold God; it shows you a God who is willing to step into the darkest valley where you live. If you have ever felt despised, pushed aside, unseen—Christ has walked that road. If you have ever thought, “Does God really understand what this feels like?”—Good Friday answers, “Yes, He does, more than you know.”

2. From Prophecy to Passion: Scripture Fulfilled

Isaiah’s words are not vague poetry; they line up with startling precision with the events of Good Friday. Let’s trace just a few of them and let Scripture speak to Scripture.

First, verse 5: “*But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.*”

“Pierced.” Seven hundred years before Roman crucifixion is applied to Jesus, Isaiah uses a word that points to a violent, penetrating wound. On Good Friday, that word becomes literal: nails through hands and feet, and at the end a spear through His side. The Gospel of John tells us that when the soldier pierced Jesus’ side, blood and water flowed out. The prophet’s word and the soldier’s spear meet at the same place: “He was pierced for our transgressions.”

Then verse 7: “*He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.*”

In the Passion narratives, Jesus stands before Caiaphas, Pilate, and Herod. Men lie about Him, taunt Him, demand answers. And when defending Himself could have spared Him, He chooses silence. He speaks when necessary to bear witness to the truth—but He does not fight to escape the cross. He is like a lamb led to slaughter; the Passover Lamb walks deliberately to the altar.

Verse 9: “*And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth.*”

Crucified between criminals—His execution is with “the wicked.” But after His death, He is laid in a new tomb belonging to Joseph of Arimathea, a respected and wealthy man. Executed as if He were vile; buried as one who is honored. Isaiah holds those opposites together in one sentence, and history ties them together in one weekend.

And then verses 10–12 hint at something astonishing: “*Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand.*”

The Servant will die as a guilt offering, yet somehow He will “see His offspring” and “prolong His days.” Death is not the end of His story; resurrection is already on the horizon. On Friday, the world sees a broken body; God sees the Seed that will rise and bring forth many sons and daughters.

There is also an apologetic note here: Isaiah 53 is so clearly aligned with the life and death of Jesus that many skeptics stumble over it. They say, “This sounds too much like Jesus. It must have been written after the fact.” But historically, it stands in the Hebrew Scriptures long before Christ. Good Friday invites us to see that the cross was not a desperate adjustment by God—it was a long-promised, carefully prepared act of love and justice.

3. Our Sin, His Substitution (Isaiah 53:5–6, 11–12)

If we stop with fulfilled prophecy, we admire the cross from a distance. Isaiah will not let us do that. He presses the camera in close, not just on what happened to Him, but on why it had to happen—and for whom.

Listen again to verses 5–6:

“*But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.*

*All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.*”

Notice the pronouns. “Our transgressions… our iniquities… we like sheep… every one to his own way… the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” This is the heart of substitution: the innocent One stands under the penalty the guilty deserve.

“Transgressions” are not accidents; they are willful crossing of God’s boundaries. “Iniquities” speak of twistedness, crookedness of heart. Isaiah does not flatter us. We are not basically good people who need a little religious polish; we are wandering sheep who have deliberately gone our own way.

And here is the staggering claim: The Lord Himself “has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Our sin is transferred; our guilt is placed on another; the judgment that should fall upon us falls upon Him. At the cross, God is not ignoring justice to show love; He is satisfying justice in order to unleash love. Every lash of the whip, every thorn, every nail, every breath of agony is the cost of our peace.

Verses 11–12 say: “*Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities. Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.*”

“He shall see and be satisfied.” What satisfies the heart of Christ? Not the pain itself, but the fruit of that pain: many sinners “accounted righteous” because He bore their iniquities. Think of this: on Good Friday, as He hangs between heaven and earth, He can see—beyond the darkness and the mocking—the faces of those the Father has given Him. He sees your face, your name, your story under His blood, and He says, “For that, I am satisfied.”

This is where we must move from observation to confession. Isaiah says “all we like sheep have gone astray.” Not “some of us,” not “the really bad ones,” but “all we.” Good Friday is not a night for us to look at “those sinners out there”; it is a night to say, “It was my pride, my selfishness, my anger, my coldness to God that made the cross necessary.” The more honest we are about our sin, the more amazing His grace becomes.

4. Coming to the Table: The Servant’s Suffering and Our Salvation

In a moment, we will take the bread and the cup. The Table is the New Covenant echo of Isaiah’s Servant Song. Jesus, on the night before He suffered, held the bread and said, “This is my body, which is for you.” He held the cup and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” Isaiah spoke of a soul made “an offering for guilt”; Jesus says, “This is that offering—for you.”

So as we prepare our hearts, let’s connect what we are about to do with what we have just heard.

When you hold the bread:

Remember: “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities.”

This bread is not magic, but it is a sign and seal.

It tells you that the suffering of the Servant was not vague and generic; it was specific and personal—“for our transgressions,” “for your transgressions.”

When you hold the cup:

Remember: “He poured out his soul to death.”

The cup of wine, or juice, is a picture of His life poured out for sinners, His blood shed to establish a covenant that cannot be broken.

When you drink, you are saying, “I am staking everything—my forgiveness, my hope, my eternity—on the blood of this Servant.”

Before we take the elements, I want to give you a quiet moment. Isaiah says, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.” Ask the Lord:

Where have I gone my own way this week?

Where have I wandered, doubted, grown cold, or rebelled?Now, in the silence, bring that “own way” to the foot of the cross and agree with God about it.Then thank Him that “the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

[Pause for silent prayer.]

If you are here tonight and you have never trusted Christ, the Table is not a ritual to perform; it is a reality to receive. Communion is for those who have turned from their sin and put their trust in Jesus as Lord and Savior. If that is not yet you, I would urge you to let the elements pass, and instead, take hold of the One they point to. Call upon Him in your heart: “Lord Jesus, I am that wandering sheep. Lay my iniquity on Yourself. Save me.” For those who are in Christ, this is a family meal—a covenant reminder that His body and blood are your hope.

Now, as we take the bread, I will say: “This is His body, given for you—pierced for your transgressions. Take and eat in remembrance of Him.”

[Distribute and partake of the bread.]

And as we take the cup: “This cup is the new covenant in His blood, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. Take and drink, remembering that by His wounds you are healed.”

[Distribute and partake of the cup.]

Closing Word

Isaiah does not end in defeat. He ends with a victorious Servant, satisfied with the results of His suffering, sharing the spoils of His triumph with His people. Good Friday feels like the end—but in God’s story, it is the costly purchase of a future we cannot yet see in full.

The world looked at the cross and saw a failed Messiah, a broken man, a tragic ending. God looked at the cross and saw His righteous Servant, bearing the sin of many, making intercession for transgressors, and He said, “I am satisfied.”

The question this Good Friday is simple and searching: When He looks at you—your sin covered by His blood, your name written in His book, your life tucked into His wounds—can He say, “For this one, too, I suffered, and I am satisfied”?

May we leave tonight with the cross not only before our eyes, but stamped upon our hearts.