In the name of the pure and holy Lamb of God, sacrificed for our sins, dear fellow recipients of that sacrifice,
While growing up in Michigan my brothers and I always looked forward to visiting my grandparents’ farm in Minnesota. One thing we didn’t enjoy was the time it would take for us to get there. And I didn’t envy my parents, having to hear four boys echoing over and over again, “Are we there yet?”– especially when the trip was over 12 hours long! Add to it that Dad never liked to stop much until reaching his destination, and you can imagine that my parents probably didn’t look forward to the trip as much as my brothers and I did.
And yet enduring such a grueling journey was possible all because of what awaited us at the end. We all looked forward to spending time with our relatives, enjoying life on the farm with the barn and the cows and the pigs – all of which was a nice change of pace for us town kids. If not for what awaited us at the end, I’m sure the trip wouldn’t have seemed so tolerable. The destination made it all worthwhile.
For the past six weeks we’ve been traveling down crossroads that our Savior took the last week of his life. In reality, the week we’ve traveled with him was only a short jaunt of his journey. He had been traveling these roads to the cross ever since he was a little baby in the cradle. In our lesson today, he reaches his destination. Was the trip worth it? To be sure, it’s a breathtaking scene, but a different kind of breathtaking. Our text says (v 37), “With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.”
At first, this scene seems like a wasted trip. You mean to say that Jesus did everything he did — taking on human flesh and setting aside the full use of his glory — so he could hang on a piece of wood? That seems as useless as traveling cross-country on an interstate highway that winds up being a dead end. But while this Good Friday may at first glance appear to be a dead end, we soon see that it was not. It wasn’t a dead end for a Roman centurion who traveled with Jesus on the crossroad to Golgotha. And it’s not a dead end for us, as we continue our travels with Jesus on another crossroad.
I. Dead End? Not for the Centurion
For all intents and purposes, this had the makings of a typical day for the Roman centurion. As a captain of the Roman army, he had often heard and executed the command, “Crucify these men!” He expected that by the end of the day, whomever was entrusted to his care would be dead. He expected a dead end as he escorted Jesus to the place of the skull. And it didn’t phase him one bit. While our stomachs would feel squeamish to carry out such a command, repetition led this man to carry it out without a second thought. While we would feel sorry for the criminal who shrieked in pain as we drove nails through his hands, you wouldn’t expect a word or any pity from this professional executioner. If he fit the description of the day, his emotions were nonexistent. He was a stone. A rock.
And not only would that description apply to the centurion’s emotions, more than likely it applied to his faith as well. At this time the Romans, for the most part, did not know about the true God. Their worship centered around mythological figures, such as Mars, the god of war, or Jupiter, the god of the sky. In addition to the numerous gods and goddesses of mythology, the Romans even regarded their emperors as gods. Caesar would have been this soldier’s god. With a faith resting on mythological creatures or human leaders, this centurion’s faith was as good as dead.
But something happened to this emotionally and spiritually dead soldier on this particular Friday. This time there was something different about the prisoner he was guarding. And it wasn’t just one thing. If this centurion had been assigned to watch over Jesus from the time he was handed over by the Jews, he would have heard Jesus explaining to Pilate how his kingdom was not of this world. He would have seen Pilate struggle to convince the people to let this man go because he couldn’t find any fault in him. He would have heard the sermon Jesus preached to that group of women on the way to Golgotha, saying they shouldn’t weep for him. The centurion would have heard Jesus pray on his behalf, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Under an inexplicably dark sky in the middle of the day, the centurion heard Jesus scream in agony, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He heard Jesus victoriously proclaim, “It is finished!” And then, the centurion witnessed something that perhaps impressed him most: He saw Jesus die in such a way that he did not lose his life but surrendered it of his own free will. With the words, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit,” Jesus showed he was not escorted to the dead end; rather, he went there on his own.
It’s then, after all these miraculous signs and wonders, that the Holy Spirit records another miracle for us in his Word. On this Good Friday, we witness the miracle of faith as the Holy Spirit sprouted life in a stone-dead heart. Our text says (v 39), “When the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, heard his cry and saw how he died, he said, ‘Surely this man was the Son of God!’” What seemed like a dead end was actually the beginning of life for the centurion. Now he knew his Savior. Now he would know what life — true life — was all about.
But what about us? Is tonight’s crossroad a dead end for us?
II. Dead End? Not for Us
As we stand here tonight in front of Jesus, hearing his cries and seeing how he died, it has all the appearances of a dead end. It’s the time of year when the altar cloths are black. The hymns are in minor keys. The lights are dimmed. The mood is somber. The silence you hear on the way out will seem a bit eery. You have come here today for a funeral. You have come here today to mourn the death of Jesus.
But there’s something about this funeral that makes it more mournful than others. As we sit in our pews, we cannot escape the thought that we had a hand in this funeral. We cannot escape the anguish that our sins pinned Jesus to the cross. We can’t escape the reality that those nails should have been driven through our hands. The blood staining the ground should have been our blood. We should have been the ones suffering the torments of hell and crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” We should have been the ones with parched mouths, begging, “I thirst.” We should have been the ones absorbing the insults of onlookers. We should have been the ones who breathed our last and died. Because of our sin, this should be our funeral tonight. The Bible says, “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins” (Eph 2:1). This should be our dead end. But it’s not.
Why? Because this was not a dead end for Jesus. Oh, it’s true, Jesus really died. As he breathed his last, Jesus, the Son of God, died. As the hymnwriter says, “Oh, sorrow dread! God’s Son is dead” (CW 137:2). It wasn’t a hoax. Jesus didn’t fake his death. As we travel this crossroad, we don’t question the word “dead.” It’s the word “end” that we have an issue with. This Jesus, who was dead on the cross, didn’t stay dead. This was not the end. That’s why today is not just Friday, it’s Good Friday — Good Friday because of what would happen on Easter Sunday. The dead Jesus, whom you came to mourn today, would be alive. And not only would he be alive, he is alive still today.
And because of that, this crossroad scene we gaze at with the centurion is not a dead end for us. Rather, it’s the beginning of life, our life with Jesus. Listen to what the inspired writer has to say about how Jesus’ death brings life to you and me: “Don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. . . . Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. . . . Count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Ro 6:3,4,8,11).
Indeed, brothers and sisters, the only thing that came to a dead end at Calvary was death itself. For Jesus there would be life. And, as a result, for the centurion there would be life, for us there is life, and for anyone else who looks to him in faith, there is life. For believers, funeral processions are no longer one-way trips. The grave is no longer a dead end. And that’s why the story doesn’t end here on Good Friday with our Lord hanging lifeless from that cross as an executed criminal. There’s more. Come back on Easter and you’ll see that the centurion got it right: “Surely this man was the Son of God!”
Amen