“It Is Finished”
Jesus Christ’s final words, hanging upon that cross, were: “It is finished” (John 19:30). What does that mean?
It means that when Jesus Christ showed up twenty centuries ago, he had not come to start a new religion. He had come to end all religion.
Religion is about what we do for God. The message of Jesus—what he called “the gospel” or “happy announcement”—is about what God has done for us.
Religion hands us a stack of bills to pay. The gospel hands us a blank check.
The Central Message of Christianity
The central message of Christianity is not what many people think—including many people who have been attending church their whole lives. Like an adopted orphan who has trouble accepting that his new parents really love him, we all deeply believe that God deals with us on terms of religion, not gospel.
What then is the central message of Christianity?
The core message of Christianity is not that God condemns or judges or punishes. The primary message of Christianity is not that God teaches or commands or instructs. The main message of Christianity is not even that God helps or strengthens or empowers. The central message of Christianity is that God substitutes.
We understand this in theory from everyday life. A substitute teacher fills in for the regular teacher who is out sick that day. A basketball player comes off the bench to sub in for a tired or injured player.
And what was happening when Jesus was on that cross, uttering his final words, “It is finished”?
He was completing his work as our substitute. He was subbing himself in for us, if we will have him. But this was not like one basketball player for another. It was more like a king subbing himself in for a condemned prisoner.
On the cross, Jesus was suffering the death, the sentence of condemnation, that all of us deserve. He exhausted the full penalty that our sin deserved, for any who desire it. And so he said: “It is finished.”
The Devastating Problem
How does this land on you? Maybe it sounds interesting, but not all that compelling.
Perhaps you believe there are people out there who really need some major forgiveness from God—our prisons are full of them. But you’re doing okay. Maybe the notion of a king substituting himself for a condemned prisoner raises your eyebrows—I’m not a guilty prisoner, you may think.
You’re friendly with your neighbors and drive the speed limit. You don’t know what handcuffs feel like and you never dropped out of school. You vote as any thoughtful citizen votes and you try to look out for your fellow human beings. Maybe you’ve even given some money to charitable causes from time to time.
May I be so bold as to share a bit about myself?
All of the above is true of me too. And I’m violating the commands of the God who created me left and right.
Take the Ten Commandments, for example. The first commandment is, “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). In other words, God should be the number one person in my life that I’m trusting in. But I find myself trusting in myself all the time—counting on my own abilities, trusting in my reputation, enjoying what others think of me, drawing strength psychologically from financial savings. Not a single day goes by that I do not break that command.
The sixth command is, “You shall not murder.” I’ve never killed anyone. But Jesus said we’ve broken that command if we get angry with another person (Matthew 5:21–26). I get angry all the time, even if I’m usually able to keep it beneath the surface.
The seventh commandment is, “You shall not commit adultery.” Once again, Jesus got to the heart of things and said that we’ve broken that command if we lust in our heart toward a woman (Matthew 5:27–30). I’ve broken that one countless times.
I’ve broken the ninth commandment, not to lie, many times—a little bending of the truth, a shaded explanation of something that casts me in a slightly better light. I’ve broken the tenth commandment, not to envy, anytime I’ve looked at another person and wished I had an ability or possession of theirs.
Truth be told, I’ve broken all the commandments.
I’m breaking God’s commands left and right. So are you.
The Even Deeper Problem
But our problem is deeper than just breaking God’s commands.
Breaking God’s rules is the symptom, not the disease. The disease is what the Bible calls “sin.” Sin is the dark twistedness within that causes us to live for ourselves. As we go through life, all we know is to live for Self. Even acts of love or neighborly friendliness, when honestly examined, are really just so that we will feel better about ourselves or so that others will think well of us.
We may not feel that sinful—just as a fish doesn’t feel that wet. But we don’t feel it only because we’re immersed in it all the time.
Think of it this way. If sin is the color blue, it isn’t as if convicted felons have lots of blue and the rest of us are pretty much clean and white. Rather, everything that every one of us says, does, or even thinks has some taint of blue to it. We can’t turn our sinfulness off any more than we can change our eye color.
But when Jesus showed up, he was different. He never broke any of God’s commandments. He was the one person who didn’t live for himself. He lived for others. He laid his life down for others. We view other people in terms of how they can serve the purpose of making my life better. We live a “your life for mine” existence. Jesus stands out brightly across the millennia of human history as the one person who ever truly lived a “my life for yours” existence.
He had no blue.
“I Want to Trade Places with You”
You and I break God’s commands all the time. And deeper than that, we have sin within—lots of blue. And here’s what Jesus is saying to you, right now:
I want to trade places with you.
Jesus kept all God’s commands and was perfectly white—no blue at all. He was the one person who ever lived who deserved not to die.
But he went to the cross and was condemned unjustly and died. He therefore is able to offer himself as the substitute to any who will have the honesty to admit their desperate need for it and take him up on that offer.
Let me be clear: He’s not offering to trade places with you assuming you will resolve to do better from now on.
He’s not offering to trade places with you, but with a clause built into the contract that allows him to step out of the trade if we don’t hold up our end of the bargain.
He’s offering to trade places with you wholesale. Once and for all. No matter what the rest of your life looks like. In this trade, you become as permanently unpunishable as Jesus Christ is, now in heaven. The morally consistent Christian and the morally inconsistent Christian are both as permanently guiltless as Christ himself.
That surprising trade is what Jesus was talking about when he declared, “It is finished.”
He was saying that the full price for sin had been paid for anyone who is willing to receive it. His death on the cross was not just any death—it was the death that absorbed the deserved condemnation of anyone down through the centuries who desires the trade that Jesus offers.
If Jesus wanted you to complete the deal from your end, he would have said, “It is begun.” But he said, “It is finished.”
All that’s left is for you to receive it. Acknowledge your desperate sinful condition and tell Jesus that you would like to take him up on his offer of a trade.
Your badness does not disqualify you for this trade. Your goodness does not qualify you for this trade. What qualifies you is knowing you don’t qualify.
Collapse into the open arms of Jesus Christ. As you say to him of your efforts, “It is hopeless,” he will say to you of his efforts, “It is finished.”
The Way Forward
If you will accept the trade that Jesus offers, everything will change in your life.
I don’t mean you’ll suddenly make more money or get sick less often. Actually, in some ways life will get harder for you if you accept his offer. A prisoner of war escaping from a concentration camp will face more intense attack from the enemy than he ever did inside the camp.
But when you say yes to Christ’s offer, everything changes. You’re alive.
It’s like a baby moving from the womb to the outside world, or a statue coming to life, or a spell being broken. Not only are all your sins forgiven; you get your humanity back. You get your dignity back. There’s a new meaning and direction to your life. You discover a surprising buoyancy and joy from within, a glow and a calm that you can’t explain. Death no longer terrifies you. Your desires start changing, from the inside out. All these are indications that the Holy Spirit has taken up residence within you. God the Son trades places with you, so that God the Spirit can live within you.
You get back the you that you were created to be.
All for free. All of grace. Just by humbling yourself enough to admit that you deserve the cross of condemnation that Jesus went to in your place.
And you will continue to sin. In fact, you will be more aware of your sinfulness than ever before. At times it will feel like you’re getting worse, not better. And that’s why Jesus Christ’s words “It is finished” will be yours to cherish the rest of your life. He never asks for a trade back. Once his completed work counts as yours, it always will. That’s the whole point. It’s done. There’s nothing good you could ever do to add the finishing touch to his work on the cross, and there’s nothing bad you could ever do to take away from his finished work.
Your Actual Life
That’s it. Pretty simple.
You lay down your bad and your good, your irreligion and your religion, and believe the gospel.
You hand Jesus your sin and shame, and he hands you his finished work and perfect record. It’s what he loves to do.
Perhaps at this point you long for all this to be true, but new questions or doubts are bubbling up.
Maybe you’re thinking, “I don’t have it in me to be a very good Christian.”
And Jesus Christ would say to you: I will walk with you every step of the journey. I will be your Friend and Guide.
Maybe you say, “My parents will think I’ve gone crazy and I’ll suddenly be an outsider within my own family.”
Jesus says to you, I will give you a new family.
A place of true acceptance and belonging, among my people. They will be your true brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers.
Perhaps you respond, “I have baggage from my past that no one else knows about.” He says, I do. I know you better than you know yourself. And I still want you.
“You want me in spite of my baggage?”
No, I want you because of your baggage.
“But shouldn’t I leave my sin and guilt behind before coming to you?”
I can’t trade places with you if you do that.
“The thing is, there’s messiness and failure and sin not only in my past but in my present.”
All the more reason for you to accept my offer, and let me trade places with you once and for all.
And perhaps in a final wave of despair and longing, you whisper: “It’s futile.”
And the Lord Jesus Christ lifts your face by the chin, looks you in the eye, and says:
It is finished.