And to the angel of the church in
Philadelphia write: These are the words of the holy one, the true one, who has
the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens . . . . (Revelation
3:7)
The last
seven words (statements, actually) of Jesus as He hung on Golgotha's cross are
among the most encouraging of all Scripture. Here is the sixth of the seven:
“It is finished”
(John 19:30)
Perhaps
no other statement of Jesus on Golgotha’s hill means so much to me as “It is
finished.” I spent weeks contemplating why that is true, and decided the answer
is best illustrated by an incident that happened to me 55 years ago.
My
friend Steve and I were eight years old. When my family visited his we often
explored the undeveloped land near his new home. During one visit, as we played
in and around houses in varying degrees of construction, we spotted a field of
cattails. “Let’s play hide and seek” he challenged. In a moment he was racing
through the cattails while I counted to 100.
The cattails swayed gracefully in the autumn
breeze as I chased after him, pushing farther into the midst of the field. They
were tall cattails . . . taller than I, and so thick I could push through them
only with great effort. But soon they were no longer my concern. The darkening
sky caught my attention and I stopped to scan in all directions. It was a
futile effort. I couldn't see anything except the thin pale stalks around me.
"Hey, Steve!" I called
aloud.
No answer.
"Steve!" I shouted against
the rustling grasses. “Where are you? I'm not playing anymore." My stomach
churned.
Then I heard him in the distance,
"Riiiiichard!"
"Here! Over here," I shouted
back. Breathing faster, I pushed into the wall of weeds. "Steeeeevennnnn!
Where are you?"
"Over here!" He sounded
closer.
At last, I heard him crunch‑crunching
nearby. In a moment we faced each other. Sweat beaded on our flushed faces.
"Where were you?" I accused.
"It got dark pretty quick and I figure we'd better be gettin' home."
"I was looking for you," he
defended himself.
"Well, come on," I urged,
not wanting to waste any more time, "let's get outta here."
"Which way is out?" he
asked.
I stared at him. "Don't you
know?"
He shook his head.
"But . . . but you live
here."
"Yeah," he started,
"But I've never been here before. Especially not in the dark."
We stared at each other a moment
longer.
"Well," I said finally.
"Let's go this way," I pointed to the left. Without speaking, we
lunged against the weeds. It was a long time before either of us spoke.
"I think we're lost," I said
softly.
Steve didn't answer.
"What do you think?"
He ignored me.
"What are we gonna do?" I
stopped. Fear gnawed at me.
"I don't know," he shrugged
his shoulders hopelessly. He’d been crying. "Maybe if we called out for
help?" he whimpered.
"Hellllllp!" we chorused
together. "Hellllllp!"
We listened . . . . And we tried
again. And again. And again.
"Maybe we should pray,"
Steve said.
Wiping the sweat from my face, I
nodded agreement. Neither of us was being raised in religious homes. In the
years our families had known each other, the only time we ever heard God’s name
mentioned was as a swear word or a casual exclamation of surprise. But now,
lost in a tangle of fear and desperation, we both knew this situation called
for help far beyond our capabilities. We closed our eyes and begged God to help
us find our way home.
After a time, the ground grew soggy beneath
our muddied shoes and we broke through to a clearing. The calm bay waters
lapped the shore at our feet. We could see the lights of homes across the
water.
"Doesn't look very far
away," Steve suggested.
I shook my head. "No, it
doesn't," I answered, lost in thought. "D'ya think we could swim
it?"
We stared across the water. Finally, I
sighed in resignation. "Maybe not." And so we once again turned back
to the weeds, sobbing freely as we trudged on. Every now and then we prayed
aloud, "God, please help us. God, please help us."
Then suddenly, it happened. Just like
that. We broke through to a clearing. Wood framed houses rose before us . . .
the same ones we played in earlier that day.
"We made it!" Steve shouted,
his eyes dancing. "We made it, Oh thank you, God! We made it!"
As the years passed, life took me
through many twists and turns. Memories of how God answered our desperate
childhood prayer drifted into the forgotten recesses of my mind. I was too busy
with life to think of such long-forgotten terrors.
But those twists and turns more often
than not brought me into other fields of weeds, weeds so tall I no longer knew
which way was out. The sun hardly filtered through the unyielding stalks of
lust, envy, arrogance, pride, and greed. And every now and then, when I broke
through to a clearing, I discovered disaster awaiting my next move.
I don’t know why it took so long, but
I finally realized I needed help beyond my own ability. I had come to the end
of my hope, my strength, my intellect, my understanding. So once again I prayed
to the One I had for so long ignored. I asked first for forgiveness of my many
sins, and then asked for help in finding my way out of the moral darkness
enveloping me.
And that’s when it happened. Suddenly.
Just like that, I broke through to the clearing. God opened my eyes to His Son’s
sacrificial death, a death I so very much deserved, but a death Christ paid for
me. I needed God’s forgiveness. In return He not only forgave me – but He showed
me His love was greater than all my rebellion. And I knew I was home.
Home.
Just like when Jesus said, “It is finished.”
Because of the years I lived in
rebellion, I didn’t know Scripture called me a child of the devil.* But when
Jesus finished His work on Golgotha He gave me the right to become a child of
God.** Oh, I love to remember it! To me – the one who repeatedly spit in God’s
face, who led others into mortal sin, who even killed his child in an abortion
clinic – Jesus offered my penitent soul the right to be called a child of
almighty God.
“It
is finished.”
Struggling as often as I did to turn
my life around, I didn’t know Scripture declared me a captive of Satan.*** But
when Jesus declared, “It is finished”, His blood ransomed me from the devil’s grip
and set me free.
“It
is finished.”
My sins earned me God’s wrath.**** Like
the sword of Damocles, it hung over my head. But, oh, when Jesus said, “It is
finished” God directed His wrath, wrath I so worthily deserved, onto Jesus’
body.*****
“It
is finished.”
Yes, no longer lost. No longer a
prisoner. No longer a child of darkness. When Jesus spilled His blood on
Golgotha and said, “It is finished” He meant it. His work of salvation was
finished. And no power on earth or in hell could – or can – change it.
It
is finished.
*For example, 1 John 3:8
**For example, John 1:10-13
***For example, 2 Timothy 2:25-26
****For example, Ephesians 5:5-7
*****For example, Isaiah 53:5-6
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