The Noise of “It is Finished”

John 12 vs 3: Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

John 19 vs 25 – 26: Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home. 

John 19 vs 27 – 30: Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

At an Easter quiet day yesterday, I felt God say to go and sit outside and just listen.

So that is what I did! It was a beautiful sunny afternoon but crazily windy, except in my sheltered garden!

So I settled down to listen – and as I listened, I started to write:

Noise! All I can hear is the crazy noise of the wind roaring around and the distant waves crashing on the beach. Its too loud to even hear the bird song – not that there are many birds around this afternoon! They are all tucked away, sheltering from the wind.

Noise! Golgotha, where they nailed you to the cross, would have been noisy. People all around, soldiers mocking and laughing. Voices and conversations even in hushed tones would have echoed around that hill.

And somehow, I have a feeling that there wasn’t any bird song at Golgotha that day either.

Noise! The groans of those being crucified would have been louder than any other noise. Theirs wasn’t a silent, dignified death. It wasn’t clean and sanitised like so many pictures portray it to be. Neither was it quick, nor painless.

Those hanging on their cross would have been crying out in pain and humiliation. Not even a sponge, soaked in drugged vinegar, would have alleviated the agony and anguish of their souls.

Of your soul, Lord, as you hung there in agony. Your soul that was filled, not just with your own anguish and pain, but that of all my pain, my sin, my humiliations, regrets and failures. Of my soul’s anguish. And that of the whole world.

Yet, in the midst of it all, you still cared more for your mother, your best friend and the man being crucified alongside you than for your own comfort.

You chose to bear the noise of 1000 generations crying out in pain – and from that place, you cried out “it is finished.”

And the noise of darkness that sought to block our ears to your love also heard those words: “It is finished,” and trembled in fear.

Amid the noise and confusion, the alabaster jar of your body was broken for me – and for all, across all nations and generations, who hear and believe your words of life.

Lord, I should be anointing you with costly perfume, but instead, flowing from your broken body on that cross, is a river of grace that floods over me and each of your followers. A river of mercy, in which we are washed clean – immersed in your brokenness so that we can be whole.

A river overflowing with the sweet fragrance of life – the life that carries the fragrance of hope and healing to this hurting world.

Because at Golgotha, the noise of death and darkness was silenced once and for all by the noise of “it is finished.”

And so, as I sit and listen to the noise around me, and the cry of your “it is finished,” I bow down at the foot of your cross. And I bring to you my noisy, distracted, all too often self-seeking self – and there I kneel and allow you to break the alabaster jar that surrounds my heart.

And from my heart flows a perfumed river of love and gratitude and worship to you Lord – knowing that all you desire is my all, offered to you, not out of duty, but in worship.

And as I bow in worship, somehow the noise around me grows less. The wind and waves are still roaring! But in the midst of this, I can hear the birdsong again – the sweet song of life flowing from your heart to mine – and to all who will stop to listen.

A song whose sweet melody silences all other noise – now and for always.

The song that sings: “It is finished.”

Why not take some time this Easter to head outside with a cup of your favourite brew, to sit and just listen. What do you hear? Where can you hear God’s sweet song of love and grace that He is singing over you? And where is he inviting you to sing His song of life together, with Him – the song of “It is Finished?”