Devotion – Beneath the Cross - April 3, 2026

Devotion – Beneath the Cross

John 19:30

It is finished.

The words fall from His lips… barely carried on His breath… spoken from a body that is already giving way to death. Those who stood there heard it, but what could it mean? Nothing about this moment looked finished. The cross still stood. The nails still held Him. The blood still ran. The darkness pressed in. This did not look like the end of anything—except Him.

They had seen too much to expect this.

They had seen Him speak, and demons fled. They had seen Him touch the sick, and bodies were restored. They had watched Him command creation itself. They had heard Him speak of life… of the kingdom… of victory. And now His voice was fading. The strength that once shook the world was gone. His head lowered. His body slackened. And death took Him.

It is finished.

If you had been there, you would not hear triumph. You would hear loss. Another life ended. Another man swallowed by death. Because that is what death does—it swallows everything. Every grave says the same thing. Every funeral preaches the same sermon. This is where it ends. This is what waits for you.

And now it has taken Him too.

The hands that blessed are still. The eyes that showed mercy are closed. The voice that called the dead to life is silent. He does not move. He does not speak. He does not breathe.

And yet…

He does not say, “I am finished.”

He says, “It is finished.”

Something else has ended here.

Not just His life—but the burden that was never His to begin with. The sin that clings to you. The guilt that follows you. The weight you cannot shake. Every failure. Every hidden thought. Every word you wish you could take back. Every moment you know you have fallen short.

All of it is there.

Laid on Him. Carried by Him. Paid for in His blood.

And when He speaks those words, He means them.

Finished.

Not waiting for more. Not needing your help. Not depending on your effort.

Finished.

The sin is answered.
The debt is paid.
The work is done.

For you.

It does not look like victory. It looks like death. Because this is how God works—hidden under suffering, buried in weakness, accomplished through the cross.

And so you stand there… beneath Him… with nothing to bring, nothing to fix, nothing to offer.

Only this remains.

It is finished.

For you.

Good Friday Devotion, Vom Gotslestern. Andreas Musculus.

Good Friday Meditation

“And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and pleas for mercy, so that, when they look on me, on him whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn. (Zechariah 12:10, ESV)

“They look on him whom they have pierced.” Just look at the men standing around the cross of Jesus. Like spears their tongues reach out and cut Jesus’ precious flesh. You can hear their words. “Come down from the cross Jesus, if you’re so great.” “If you do that we’ll believe in you.” How sharp are their words. And yet, there’s more. A man on a horse pulling a wagon curses their slow progress raising a whip against them. His tongue flies through space finding its mark on Jesus. Two men locked in mortal combat spit curses at each other and the words on their lips slash the Savior’s side. They mock Jesus at his dying breath. The cuts produce great drops of blood from the Victim on the cross. And the demons howl in delight, rattling the chains of human slavery to sin.

You and I have done it. We are in the picture here. No we don’t speak the same words but we say words that cut Christ just the same. How often our lips are weapons against our neighbors and friends and family. How often our lies seek out and puncture a reputation. How often the promises we speak are left to nothing. How often we repeat what we know is untrue to tear down a friend. We think that because our target isn’t Jesus that the spears from our lips haven’t found their target in him. And yet he bleeds on the cross from our sin, just as if we were there thrusting the point of the spear with our own hands. We mock all that Jesus has done and our cuts cause great drops of blood from the Victim on the cross. And the demons howl in delight, rattling the chains of our slavery to sin.

But 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. (Isaiah 53:5, ESV)

Wounded, pierced he was. He hangs there to receive our chastisement when we tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him and hurt his reputation. It is our sin He bears on the tree of the cross. And yet, look at Jesus face. It shines with the Glory of God. It is the peace of God that is there. The blood pouring from the wounds cleanses the tongues that pierce him. That body broken heals the hearts that are the source of sin. The demons mouths are shut. The chains of sin are broken. We are free to soften our speech. We are free to defend our enemy instead of cursing him. We are free to speak about our neighbor in only the kindest way. Jesus on the cross is our forgiveness. Jesus on the cross is our healing. Jesus on the cross is for me and you. Amen.

Good Friday Devotion - Luke 23:55

At the Grave of Jesus. .. Luke 23:55
They witnessed his burial. His body lay there, lifeless... pale... inside the white linen shroud. The women held each other for comfort; they couldn't believe what they were seeing; His lifeless body. Lifeless? How could He be lifeless? After all that He had done... after all He had said... Hadn't he confronted evil everywhere he went? Didn't the demons run screaming away from him? Hadn't he proven he was stronger than death? But now the darkness of the death held him, and his life was gone. The brightness of his eyes... the smile that brought warmth... the voice that calmed fears... they were all gone. Mary Magdalene struggled to remember his voice. She remembered how gently it would come over her when he spoke. She remembered how the sound would fill her like life itself. She remembered how fear and doubt evaporated into nothing. She wanted to hear it now... as she looked in the tomb... the tomb where her Lord lay dead. Mary's mind traced over the time she had spent with him, following him, watching him, and listening to him. What would he say at this moment? What words of hope would he offer? Hope? Yes, that was it... he would give her hope. But, what hope was there in the face of death? What hope was there as she stood staring into the dark hole that swallowed up everyone? Death was her future. Death was the future of all who breathed and dreamed. Every time she visited a grave she saw it. Each death she witnessed brought her own into focus. Every death moved the darkness a little closer. The darkness would come to her, soon enough. And yet, with the crucified Jesus lying before her there must be some hope. He had spoken of death often enough. She remembered the little girl, who died of a fever. "Why do you weep? She is only sleeping." Jesus said. His words filled Mary's mind as she remembered being told how Jesus lifted the girl alive again to her mother's arms. But, most of all she remembered the words Jesus had spoken at the grave of Lazarus. When they all stood there looking into that open grave, just like they were looking now into his. "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will never die." The sound of the rolling stone pushed his words from her mind, and the loud dull thud that sealed the tomb left only silence. But, in that silence she realized that death was sealed there in that tomb with Jesus. The death of all those she had mourned... the death her of parents... the death of her friends... and even her own death lay there wrapped in that shroud and sealed in that tomb. And in her mind, was a flicker of hope, like a single candle in a darkened room. It was hope that was stronger than the image of her dead Lord that now filled her mind. It was hope that knew that this was not the end.

Jesus, I Will Ponder Now

"Jesus, I Will Ponder Now"
by Sigismund v. Birken
Translated by August Crull, 1845-1923

Jesus, I will ponder now
On Thy holy Passion;
With Thy Spirit me endow
For such meditation.
Grant that I in love and faith
May the image cherish
Of Thy suffering, pain, and death,
That I may not perish.

Make me see Thy great distress,
Anguish, and affliction,
Bonds and stripes and wretchedness
And Thy crucifixion;
Make me see how scourge and rod,
Spear and nails, did wound Thee,
How for man Thou diedst, O God,
Who with thorns had crowned Thee.

Yet, O Lord, not thus alone
Make me see Thy Passion,
But its cause to me make known
And its termination.
Ah! I also and my sin
Wrought Thy deep affliction;
This indeed the cause hath been
Of Thy crucifixion.

Grant that I Thy Passion view
With repentant grieving
Nor Thee crucify anew
By unholy living.
How could I refuse to shun
Every sinful pleasure
Since for me God's only Son
Suffered without measure?

If my sins give me alarm
And my conscience grieve me,
Let Thy cross my fear disarm,
Peace of conscience give me.
Grant that I may trust in Thee
And Thy holy Passion.
If His Son so loveth me,
God must have compassion.

Grant that I may willingly
Bear with Thee my crosses,
Learning humbleness of Thee,
Peace mid pain and losses.
May I give Thee love for love!
Hear me, O my Savior,
That I may in heaven above
Sing Thy praise forever.

The Lutheran Hymnal
Hymn #140
Text: Luke 18: 31-34
Author: Sigismund v. Birken, 1653
Translated by: August Crull, 1923, alt.
Titled: "Jesu, deine Passion"
Composer: Melchior Vulpius, 1609
Tune: "Jesu Kreuz, Leiden und Pein"

Good Friday Devotion - Luke 23:55

At the Grave of Jesus. .. Luke 23:55
They witnessed his burial. His body lay there, lifeless... pale... inside the white linen shroud. The women held each other for comfort; they couldn't believe what they were seeing; His lifeless body. Lifeless? How could He be lifeless? After all that He had done... after all He had said... Hadn't he confronted evil everywhere he went? Didn't the demons run screaming away from him? Hadn't he proven he was stronger than death? But now the darkness of the death held him, and his life was gone. The brightness of his eyes... the smile that brought warmth... the voice that calmed fears... they were all gone. Mary Magdalene struggled to remember his voice. She remembered how gently it would come over her when he spoke. She remembered how the sound would fill her like life itself. She remembered how fear and doubt evaporated into nothing. She wanted to hear it now... as she looked in the tomb... the tomb where her Lord lay dead. Mary's mind traced over the time she had spent with him, following him, watching him, and listening to him. What would he say at this moment? What words of hope would he offer? Hope? Yes, that was it... he would give her hope. But, what hope was there in the face of death? What hope was there as she stood staring into the dark hole that swallowed up everyone? Death was her future. Death was the future of all who breathed and dreamed. Every time she visited a grave she saw it. Each death she witnessed brought her own into focus. Every death moved the darkness a little closer. The darkness would come to her, soon enough. And yet, with the crucified Jesus lying before her there must be some hope. He had spoken of death often enough. She remembered the little girl, who died of a fever. "Why do you weep? She is only sleeping." Jesus said. His words filled Mary's mind as she remembered being told how Jesus lifted the girl alive again to her mother's arms. But, most of all she remembered the words Jesus had spoken at the grave of Lazarus. When they all stood there looking into that open grave, just like they were looking now into his. "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will never die." The sound of the rolling stone pushed his words from her mind, and the loud dull thud that sealed the tomb left only silence. But, in that silence she realized that death was sealed there in that tomb with Jesus. The death of all those she had mourned... the death her of parents... the death of her friends... and even her own death lay there wrapped in that shroud and sealed in that tomb. And in her mind, was a flicker of hope, like a single candle in a darkened room. It was hope that was stronger than the image of her dead Lord that now filled her mind. It was hope that knew that this was not the end.