A Long Day's Dying

A Long Day's Dying--March 21, 2019

"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), 'I am thirsty.' A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, 'It is finished.' Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." [John 19:28-30]

"It is finished," Jesus says.  But, to be clear, what, precisely, was finished?  What was brought to completion in that moment?  What was finally brought to its conclusion and fulfillment in that moment?

I mean to ask, is this simply an autobiographical statement from Jesus about the end of his life, or was he saying that this death was accomplishing something?  Was the cross, in other words, just the scene of, to borrow a beautiful phrase of Frederick Buechener's, a "long day's dying," or was something else actually done, once and for all, as this tortured Jewish rabbi breathed his last on a Roman execution stake?

Well, I'll lay my cards on the table here.  It appears that the New Testament insists that this moment is more than just Jesus saying, politely, "I'm dying over here."  The final word from the cross in John's telling (and in the Greek, it is one elegant word, "tetelestai,") is a claim not just about the end of one human life, but about the completion of something that cannot be undone.  

The writers of the New Testament, John here included, are convinced that the universe is a different place because of this life given up--a life that in a very real sense, Jesus was giving away all along, as he healed, preached, taught, lived, and then died.  They are convinced that humanity has a different standing, a different relationship, because of Jesus' death.  And the New Testament would have us believe that this is a change that God has brought about, without our help, or assistance, or jump-starting it.  The new reality brought about by the cross of Jesus is complete on its own, and does not require our prayers to make it effective, our subscription to get access to its benefits, or our trying-hard to keep it from expiring or going sour like milk.  It is a done deal, and there ain't nothing that can undo it.

This, I think, is a really, really important point that the Scriptures insist on, but it's also one that we (at least we respectable religious types) have the hardest time with.  We always are looking to add to the cross like there is more needed to make it effective.  We treat it like yeast you have to "activate" in warm water before you can go putting into your bread dough.  There are lots of religious-sounding ideas of what else has to happen, but they are all variations on the same theme that you need to do your part in order for the good news really to be true.  Otherwise, so the respectable religious voices will say, it sounds like God is just giving redemption away at no charge.

And that, not to put too fine a point on it, is the very crux of the matter.  Literally.  The claim of the New Testament writers is that, indeed, God has given redemption away for free, completely, paid in full, check cancelled.  We don't even have to get the tip.  If Jesus really means something more than "I'm dying now," when he says, "It is finished," then we have to believe that "finished" means "finished"--that when Jesus says he has completed something, it really is complete, and he's not waiting for us to earn what he has already paid for.

The reason we need to be clear about this is that from time to time (I just read a piece with this problem earlier today) you'll hear those very serious sounding religious voices who insist that "You can't say that God has forgiven everything you've ever done and everything you'll ever do--that sounds like you're letting people off the hook and being lax about future good behavior!"  Or they'll say, "Don't make it sound like God's mercy is unconditional--people will never repent properly if they don't think they have to do it right first if they want grace!"  And all of that amounts to saying that on the cross, nothing is really finished--it's just a work-in-progress, waiting for you and me to finish it.  If that's really how things are--if God's forgiveness is only potential, or available, or a possibility, because of the cross--then really what Jesus should have said in his dying breath was, "It is partially started--act now and get your share of this!"

The thing we are going to have to come face to face with if we take Jesus' dying words seriously is that he really seems to think that he has accomplished the great act of reconciliation, not merely that he has begun a dialogue, kicked off an opportunity, or opened a door.  Robert Farrar Capon has a similar train of thought when he considers the opening verse of Romans 8.  Capon says:

"Saint Paul has not said to you, ‘Think how it would be if there were no condemnation;’ he has said, ‘There is therefore now none.’  He has made an unconditional statement, not a conditional one—a flat assertion, not a parabolic one.  He has not said, ‘God has done this and that and the other thing; and if by dint of imagination you can manage to put it all together, you may be able to experience a little solace in the prison of your days.’ No.  He has simply said, ‘You are free. Your services are no longer required.  The salt mine has been closed’.”

Either the cross really does finish something--and we really are already forgiven, reconciled, and justified from God's vantage point--or it is more like the cross is a helpful, but partial, down payment to be followed up with monthly installments on our part so that our salvation doesn't get repossessed.  We, in all of our respectable religiosity, want to keep adding fine print to the transaction in the name of propping up good morals, but Jesus really and truly insists that he has done all that needs doing.  The only question we can ask, if he is right (and I think it is a good assumption that he is), is what we will do with our lives, now that we are freed from worrying if we have done enough. If (correction: when) it turns out that I am still a mess-up, after having been forgiven, Jesus seems to have been willing to take that risk and gave his life up already anyway. Jesus, in other words, was willing to lay down his life for me, even if I never got around to being a better person, even if I struggle with drinkin' and cussin' for the rest of my life, and even if I am a thief nailed to the next cross over pleading, "Jesus remember me" in my dying desperation.  

Jesus really did complete something at the cross, more than a long day's dying. There are no payments left to make.

Today, then, maybe we can quit wasting our time (and Jesus' time) by trying to make the Gospel's free gift sound more reasonable and restrained.  Jesus will have no part of that.  It is either true that Jesus has paid it all in full, as it were, or the whole Gospel is a fairy tale--but there is no room for making the Christian faith into a self-improvement seminar where Jesus gets you started and then you have to pay the balance once the free-trial-offer has expired.  So instead of trying to tame grace by making it subject to the fine-print of showing sufficient moral progress, requiring adequate public shows of repentance, or insisting on a pray-this-prayer-to-make-Jesus-come-into-your-heart, what if we just let Jesus' words stand as they are? 

It is finished.  It really is.

Lord Jesus, let us dare to take you at your word.  Let us trust that you have reconciled us to yourself already, and then to live like that is true.