Good Friday

Jesus asked them again, “Whom do you seek?” And they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken: “Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one” (John 18:7–9).

When the mob of soldiers came to arrest Jesus, they also laid hands on his disciples. These were not Roman soldiers as one might suppose. These men were of the temple guard, Jewish soldiers under the authority of the chief priests. God had established the priesthood for one purpose, to offer the sacrifices that would cleanse his people from their sin. There is no forgiveness unless blood is shed. From the beginning the God had said, “The soul that sins forfeits its own life.” There is no way around this. The perfect justice of God demands retribution. Sinners must be punished. Sinners must die.

Even though the priesthood had become corrupt and self-serving, it would still be the instrument of God’s justice. By their hands the sacrifice for sin would be made. Caiaphas, the high priest, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit had prophesied, “It is better that one man should die for the people” (John 18:14). And so the soldiers came, bearing weapons to seek out the troubler of Israel, to purge the sinful cancer from among their midst.

“Where is the one that we seek? Where is the blasphemer? Where is the seditionist? Where is the murderer, the adulterer, the thief, the gossiper? Where is the lawbreaker? Where is the idolater, the lover of money and pleasure? Where is the sinner that must die?” And they seized the disciples. These soldiers represent the voice of the troubled conscience. They speak on behalf of God’s righteous judgment. They declare you guilty, and the charge is true. You are a sinner. You have transgressed the holy Law of God. You have justly deserved to be seized and handed over into death. This is true for every one of us: whether we are seized by the authorities, by a cancer, a hurricane, by the coronavirus, or by old age. It is just. The soul that sins must die.

But Jesus asks them again, “Whom do you seek? You are looking for the lawbreaker? You seek the vile sinner who must die? I am he. I am the one whose blood must be shed. I am the transgressor. But let these men go.” “What?” you say. Surely Jesus was not a sinner. He was righteous. In fact, he was the only righteous one. This is true. But for our sake, he who knew no sin was made to be sin (2 Cor 5:21). This is not semantics. It’s not word games. In the most real way imaginable, Jesus became not just a sinner, not just the only sinner, he was made to be sin itself. His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance. As one from whom men hide their faces he was despised (Is 52:14; 53:3). He was crushed beyond recognition with the grotesque burden of every sin, sins he did not commit, yet sins for which he received the punishment in full. Jesus, standing in the gap between man and the righteous wrath of God said, “I am he. I am the guilty one. I am the criminal who must die. Only let these ones go.”

This was to fulfill the word that Jesus had spoken: “Of those whom the Father has given me, I have lost not one” (John 18:9). We lose many of those who are given to us. The soldiers of God’s justice come calling, and we lose our parents, our friends, a spouse, even children. The longer you live, the more this is true. Those whom we love are seized by death in one form or another. This week we lost dear Alice to the coronavirus. We lost her, but Jesus did not. He has not lost one whom the Father has given him. When death came to seize her on Wednesday of Holy Week, Jesus stood in its way and said, “I am the one you seek. Only let this one go. And when Jesus commands, it is done. Jesus loses none one.

The eternal claim that death had upon your soul has been renounced. The wrath against sin stored up for you was unleashed upon Jesus instead. He said to your accusers, “I am the one you seek. Only let this one go.” A few moments ago we sang, “Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.” These words are true! Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed (Is 53:4a, 5).

On this Holy night, as we seek rightly to ponder our Lord’s suffering, where will we find the words to express the measure of his sacrifice for us? Certainly not in any human language. But what pleases God is not eloquent words of thanks, but a heart filled with simple trust—trust in the One who purchased your soul with his own life, trust in the One who loses none that belongs to him. You belong to Jesus. He ransomed you with his blood. He united you with his cross in Holy Baptism. He suffered all in your place. And now nothing can harm you. Nothing can claim you. Nothing can snatch you from the pierced hands of your Savior. Even death, which reaches out its cold fingers to seize each one of us, has been robbed of its power. The sting of death is sin, but Jesus has borne away the sin of the world. And by taking away your sin, he has silenced the voice of judgment against you. “I am the one you seek,” Jesus said, “Only let these who belong to me go.” And all the powers arrayed against you: sin, hell, death, and devil must obey his word.

On this darkest Friday, which is rightly called good, our Lord does battle against our enemies. We cannot help him in this fight. He must climb Calvary’s hill alone, despised by men, forsaken by his Father. None can ease his burden. None can share his pain. Only he can be the sacrifice. Only his blood can remove our sin. Look to his cross and live! Where can you find forgiveness, life, and salvation? Where can you find victory over death? Our crucified Lord answers, “I am the one you seek. And I will lose not one whom the Father gives me.” Amen.

Related Media

Related Sermons