It is finished.

The grueling ordeal is finally over.

The beginning of the end was less than 24 hours ago. Yet, it felt like forever and no time at all. The physical and emotional swings Jesus experienced were a torment all their own. The whip’s lash stung. But, it did not sting as much as the condemning words from the crowds. Grief plus lacerated skin is a truly terrible combination.

Jesus knew in the depths of his soul how his Divine Mission would end. He knew that this journey into Jerusalem would be his final one. The whispers were all around. He noticed Judas going missing and turning up with an odd demeanor. He watched the disciples in twos and threes talking in hushed voices, their whole countenance revealing fear. The religious authorities were either overly friendly or very distant when Jesus was near. And they were foolish to think Jesus did not notice them abruptly stop talking when he was nearby.

He was very familiar with the history of the treatment of prophets in Jerusalem. “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!,” he had lamented. “How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13.34)

He knew the blood thirsty Roman death machine was always ready to jump into action. Arrest, torture and death was always a possibility when one dared speak up and speak out against the political powers of the day. Sadly, Jerusalem was the birthplace of many martyrs.

Yet, Jesus was still surprised when Judas betrayed him. Jesus had hopes that Judas would come around to the message of Divine Love, that his heart would soften. He was not willing to give up on Judas. Even now he would not.

And, he knew Peter would waffle under pressure. What surprised him was that all the disciples abandoned him to run and hide. This broke his heart. The only comfort was knowing that John the beloved, who stayed with him, would care for his blessed mother in her grief.

His mother. That brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. He recalled all of her stories about his birth. About his early years. About his father Joseph whom he barely remembered. About all their struggles. About all the strange sayings of old prophets, prophetesses and others (at least they were strange back then). About the prophesied sword that was obviously piercing his mother’s soul as he looked at her. It was knowing the depth of her pain that was most unbearable for Jesus. Worse even than the crown of thorns and nails.

Nearing the end more moments flashed. Times with friends. Late night discussions with the disciples. Parties and dinners. The public debates with the religious authorities. Prayers powerfully answered through healings and exorcisms – by Lazarus walking out of his tomb after being dead four days. Life, he reflected, had been a wonderful adventure of living with God, with others, in the midst of this world.

Now, after just a few moments of feeling bitterly betrayed and abandoned by his Heavenly Father, he remembered the Voice from Heaven, rumbling like a Holy Thunder reminding him of his mission, of God’s glory about to be revealed. The Voice reminding him, God’s beloved Son, that he is never, ever alone, that everything he has done, every minute of his life, has been for the glory of God, for the salvation of the world.

He lived his life for the glory of God and the salvation of the world. The answered prayers and the public debates. The deep discussions and the little jokes he used to pull on Peter. The parties and the prayer time. EVERY minute, EVERY moment for the glory of God and the salvation of the world.

As the pain numbed his body and his eyelids grew heavy, he felt a peace. If he could move his facial muscles he might even smile. In that moment of growing weakness and gathering darkness he realized that he had fulfilled his mission. HE HAD FULFILLED HIS MISSION. He had done it. He had fulfilled his Father’s will. He lived out his mission fully. He had held back nothing. Whatever happened next was in God’s hands. Whatever happened next would be beyond good and holy and right. It was God’s move now.

Jesus felt a small rush of energy pulse through him. It filled his heart. The sensation caused him to take in a large gulp of breath. He wanted everyone to know what he knew. He wanted everyone to know that he had accomplished his mission. And he wanted everyone to hold on to the hope that God’s next move was going to be world-changing. God’s final, victorious move was about to happen.,

With his last bit of energy and his last breath he offered his final word of Good News:

It. Is. Finished.

Slowly his eyes closed and…