I went into the Fast-Fix jewelry store and had the chain for my gold cross necklace fixed the other day. It’s only taken me a mere 25 years to do it but alas, it is finished. Those were Christ’s words as he hung from the cross, giving up mortality for immortality, death for life, a sin scarred body for the sins of man. Before they tested the color of his blood by the piercing of his flesh, he uttered, “It is finished.”
His work on earth accomplished.
His body removed from the cross and laid to rest.
The sins of man soon to be silenced by his descent into darkness.
His ressurection made known by the glory His return.
Everything’s completed. All we had to do was praise Him for his promise kept and to come and yet, instead, we left Him on the cross.
Looking at my necklace as the clerk ran my debit card, I smiled at how it sparkled. Even others, within the first couple days of wearing it again after 25 years, made comments about how pretty and shiny it was. Within days I was back to rubbing it between my fingers every now and again. Not out of habit or unintentionally, as you see some women do, but with intention. Because every now and again throughout the day, I am reminded of the sacrifice Jesus made for me by hanging on a cross. A rugged, splintery, dirty cross that didn’t sparkle and no one called it pretty.
But it was a cross. And as he prepared to hang there, he suffered more than we can ever comprehend…
He suffered the betrayal from those who called him friend and found healing through his hands no less than 24 hours before.
He suffered mocking from those who were serving Rome by persecuting him.
He suffered embarrassment and shame when asked to disrobe prior to his ill-imposed punishment.
He suffered bullying when the soldiers made a crown out of thorns and abrasively shoved it onto his head, causing stinging pain when that crown pierced through his flesh, their laughter echoing up to the halls of heaven.
He suffered searing pain being flogged — struck on his flesh with a whip that tore and peeled his flesh by the sharp metal or bone pieces inserted into its leather strap — at least forty times.
He suffered exhaustion carrying his cross.
He suffered an agony known of throughout history but suffered by few, as nails were pounded through the dusty and bloodstained flesh of his hands and feet.
He suffered traumatic discomfort as his body, lying upon two weighty lengths of timber, was raised from the ground and with a jolt, causing every scratch, every scrape, every open wound to throb anew.
As the sun beat upon him, He suffered a ‘chronic’ pain as the clothes given back to him, (which would later be gambled upon for ownership), rubbed against his backside.
He suffered abandonment as he cried out, “God, why have you forsaken me?”
He suffered ridicule when the guards taunted him with vinegar for water.
He suffered the heat of the day as he took one last breath and uttered, “It is finished.”
It is finished.
No more pain. No more suffering. Then taken down from the cross off suffering, he was laid in a tomb.
It is finished.
Some have argued that Jesus is no longer on the cross so why not “take that cross off from around your neck.” “It’s an idol.'” “It’s superstitious.”
I don’t agree. Yes, He’s gone. To the grave and back and beyond. But, I don’t idolize the cross and I’m not superstitious. But I will wear it. Proudly. I will take it in my hand throughout the day and remember…
He suffered for me. It was an ill-imposed punishment because it should have been me on that cross. He was sinless. I am not. He made a way to bring me back into fellowhsip with my heavenly Father. And a wear agold cross to remind me of just that.