Good Friday: "Earn This!"
In "Saving Private Ryan," Tom Hank's character tells Ryan to earn his sacrifice. Our Lord says something very different...
I was wrong about having no time to write this sermon after the Good Friday noon service. If you like it, and you’re in NYC, I’ll preach it again at the 6 pm service at St. John’s Park Slope. If you’d rather listen to it, click here.
When Jesus says, “It is finished,” he’s not saying, “it’s over,” or “I’m done for,” or “All is lost.” When he says, “It is finished,” he means “It is completed.” “It is accomplished.” “It is perfected.”
At the exact moment when he appears to be defeated, Jesus is proclaiming that he is a conqueror.
This doesn’t make much sense to us. Is he in denial? Is he being defiant to the very end? How can Jesus win by losing?
More than any other Gospel, St. John presents Jesus in command as he’s brought to the cross. And according to John, when Jesus says, “It is finished,” he is saying, “I have done what I came into the world to do.”
But just what is it that he came into the world to do? John makes Jesus’ purpose clear at the very beginning of his Gospel using the words of John the Baptist. Not once, but twice, the Baptizer proclaims to the crowds, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And here, at the cross, at the climax of John’s narrative, Christ proclaims that the deed is done. Sin has been taken away once and for all.
Maybe you’re like me, and when you read this text you have your doubts. It’s all too good to be true. It seems to be part of our nature to think that Christ’s saving work couldn’t possibly be finished. It seems natural to think we have more to do, more to add, more to earn. There’s no aspect of the Christian faith more difficult for us to believe than the truth that Christ’s love will never let us go.
There’s a scene in the movie Saving Private Ryan that is a perfect example of our doubts. In the film, eight soldiers go behind enemy lines to save one. The reason? All three of Private Ryan’s brothers had been killed, and, for the sake of his parents, a general assembled a team to rescue the last of them.
All eight members of that team gave up their lives to save Ryan. And as the last of them died, he said to the young private, “Earn this.”
“Earn this.” (That’s what you and I are used to.) He said, “Make our sacrifice worth it.” (That’s what comes more naturally for us.) And for the remainder of his days, that’s what he owed them.
In the final scene of the movie, Private Ryan is a much older man. It’s decades later, and he’s made a pilgrimage to the graves of the men who died so that he might live. And as the movie ends, he collapses in tears. He’s tormented by the idea that he has not “earned it.” He’s devastated because he knows that he has not made their sacrifice worth it.
Now, I can imagine that all of us in this room would, understandably, try to console Ryan and help him reject this burden:
“Way too much was asked of you, man.”
“You didn’t ask for all these people to risk their lives for you. That’s on the general.”
And while all of that is probably true, I can’t imagine it would have made him feel better. And I can’t imagine it would have worked very long for us either. Because what Private Ryan, and you and I, need to hear, is that we cannot “earn it.” We cannot obtain forgiveness or justification by our own merits. These are gifts beyond our capacity to earn by any means we might devise.
But the reason that we call this Friday “Good,” is because on this day, God, in Jesus, did for us what we never could. The good news of the Gospel – the good news of the cross – is that the gift of salvation has already been earned for us. It’s true for you, and it’s true for me, and it would be true for Private Ryan, if he was real. There’s nothing to add to the Cross of Christ. It is finished. It is accomplished. It is enough.
So lay down your burdens and all of your shame. His work is sufficient to take away the sins of the world.
From the sermon: We cannot obtain forgiveness or justification by our own merits. These are gifts beyond our capacity to earn by any means we might devise.
Thanks as always for your truth and wisdom. Also thanks for still including your friends in Birmingham in your NOTES,