it is finished.

as i’ve been reflecting on good friday and these three words that jesus uttered on the cross: “it is finished,” i can’t help but also remember the three words that god spoke over creation in genesis 1, that “it was good.”

it is finished. it was good.

it was good. it is finished.

these two sets of words both ring with a timbre of fullness and completion in the moment – fullness in the beauty of seeing creation made flesh out of nothing/darkness (it was good), and completion in the culminating “yes” in christ’s death for humanity’s redemption (it is finished). somehow these words seem so inextricably bound to one another and perhaps even interchangeable…

while these words do suggest fullness and completion in the moment they were uttered, we cannot forget that there is also the possibility of hope and promise heard in its echo. in reflecting upon the darkest hours of christ’s death and in his words “it is finished,” the reverberation harkens back to creation as we remember that it was in chaos and total darkness that the spirit hovered over the depths of the seas and god said “let there be light!”

our hope is found in the promise that god speaks “let there be light” in those seemingly dark, dead, and chaotic spaces of our lives. our hope is found in witnessing the power of the spirit continually hovering over and healing the deep wells of our tears. and our hope is found in knowing that in christ’s “yes” we are offered the gift and hope of new life.

from chaos and darkness to good friday, from the spirit hovering over the depths to holy saturday, from creation to resurrection sunday, we remember a god who never fails and remains faithful… in god’s creating and proclaiming of all that was good, god is also faithful to complete it.

it is finished.

lenten reflection: death does not have the last word

i always feel an enormous tension when it comes to the tradition and practices of lent, holy week and good friday/holy saturday. it is a tension that lies within the notion that this season must be marked by a certain posture of somberness in reflection of our own sinful state and in anticipation and remembrance of christ’s death. i often struggle with the idea that our mortality and christ’s death on the cross are somehow the focus of the entire 40 days and lived out in ways that make me believe that the resurrection is merely the “after effect.” beginning on ash wednesday as we are crossed with ash on our foreheads and reminded that “from dust we’ve come and to dust we shall return,” we begin a ritual of mourning -mourning our sinfulness and the burden that christ bore on our behalf.

why do we receive such words spoken over us? yes, we all do return to dust but is there not a redemption that specifically marks our faith in christ? an ashen state of being is not the final word. the death of this body is not the period at the end of our sentence.

i believe that our redemption happened not only when christ took our sin upon his own body, becoming sin on our behalf and died (it would be tragic if that were the culmination and seal of our redemption), but i believe that it is only in the resurrection of that death, the rising of our lives in christ’s body rising that we can know our redemption. this is a glorious event, a miraculous event. as i anticipate and ponder the magnitude of  christ’s death on good friday, i also take great joy in that death as the precursor to my resurrection and the resurrection of the saints. it is a time of recognizing what i am not in the realization of who god is. it is also a recognizing of who I am in the realization of who god says that i am –a joint heir, a daughter and beloved -forgiven and redeemed.

thus, as we now enter into this most somber season of lent taking a posture of humility and in anticipation of christ’s suffering and death on our behalf, i also choose to take great joy in the realization that christ did not have to, yet christ did. i take joy in christ’s death as it holds within it, the promise of resurrection, the promise of hope. for me, it will never be a season of mourning for i mourn those who have been separated from me, but in christ’s death, i have been brought near.