Jesus pushes himself up again and cries, “It is finished.” And it is. Every sin of every child of God had been laid on Jesus and he drank the cup of God’s wrath dry.
It’s six o’clock, Friday evening, and Jesus finds one more surge of strength. He presses his torn feet against the spikes, straightens his legs, and with one last gasp of air cries out, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”
And he dies.
The merciful centurion sees Jesus’ body fall far forward and his head drop low. He thrusts a spear up behind Jesus’ ribs—one more piercing for our transgression—and water and blood flow out of his broken heart.
In that moment mountains shake and rocks spilt; veils tear and tombs open.
The merciful centurion looks
up at that lifeless body of Jesus and is filled with awe. He drops to his knees and declares, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mission accomplished. Sacrifice accepted.
A Crucifixion Narrative