The Job for You To Do: A Good Friday Sermon

A sermon originally preached on Good Friday 2011

The job for you to do today is this: stoop down to one knee, next to where a man is stretched out against a cross. Reach into the bag at your side and select a nail. Hold it against the man's hand, and watch as the point dimples his flesh. You don't want to hit bone, so choose your place wisely. Draw back your hammer and strike as hard as you can, because you want to go all the way through to the wood in one blow.

Let me assure you that this man is a hardened criminal. He deserves to die, otherwise he wouldn't be stretched out in front of you. If you didn't have that assurance, would you have the nerve to do what you're about to do?

But I forget. You're a professional. This is not the first person you've crucified. I don't have to tell you what agonies this man will go through before he finally breathes his last. You know your job well, and you've developed a thick skin. When a condemned man writhes in terror, cries like a baby and pleads with you, you don't miss a beat. You have a job to do, and you're going to do it well.

But do you remember your first day on the job? Do you remember the first man you crucified? Hard to forget, isn't it? You wiped the blood from your hands and the cold sweat from your brow, took a drink to steady your nerves, and said 'Is this what my life has come to?' No small boy ever says 'when I grow up, I want to be the man with the nails at crucifixions.' And yet, here you are. It's funny how life turns out.

But this man is different. Normally people are a wreck when they come to the cross. Either they're terrified beyond rational thought, or else friends or sympathisers have given them enough to drink that they're no longer in their right minds anyway. This man is in pain to begin with, but he's not frightened. He's almost serene. It's almost as if he doesn't need anyone to hold him down while you get the nails ready. It's almost as if he's willingly opening his arms, waiting expectantly to do your job. This man is different.

The nail is in place, and you draw back your hammer. He opens his mouth, but it's not to plead for his life. Instead, he says 'Father, forgive them.' But don't hesitate! Don't lose your nerve! Do the job you're paid to do!

This image, as Jesus is about to be nailed to the cross, is one of the most striking scenes of the crucifixion. Here Jesus lies on the cross that has not yet been lifted up, and waits. Here God makes himself completely vulnerable, and waits for his child to drive in the nails. Here we see two powerful images. Here we see, fully revealed, the true picture of God's love. Yet we also see, fully revealed, the true picture of man's sin.

Unless he spread out his arms in love for men to drive the nails, we would have no chance of forgiveness. And yet it is in part because men drove the nails that we needed forgiveness. At this point, nothing can undo what has been done. No host of angels will sweep down and save him from this moment. Jesus will be crucified, and he will die. Though all the torments and agonies to come, he is awaiting the inevitable. And as he waits, he prays 'Father, forgive them.'

It's a noble thought. It must have touched the hearts of even half-sympathetic listeners. It speaks of serenity and a deep inner peace, not the first things you'd expect to find at the site of an execution. For a guilty man to forgive his tormentors is one thing. It would carry echoes of the penitent thief's words: 'we are getting what we deserve for our sins.' A condemned criminal could forgive his executioners, knowing that as representatives of the state they had a job to do, unpleasant though it may be.

For an innocent man to forgive his persecutors is something else. Those who put the innocent to death are not just doing their jobs. They are taking part in a great injustice. They deserve to be punished for that. When that innocent person shows them forgiveness, it speaks of a greatness of spirit that is quite striking.

It will become a hallmark of Christlike character for the early Christian martyrs. Stephen will go to his death praying 'Lord, do not lay this sin to their charge.' When the gospels are first on the best-seller lists, the first people to read them will be struck by how Jesus tells his followers to love their enemies, bless those who curse them, do good to those who hate them, and pray for those who abuse and persecute them. They will remember that that's also the example that he set for them, and although it's a tough act to follow, as they face persecution and martyrdom, they will try to follow his example.

But there's more to it than just that. If I put an innocent man to death, and he shows that kind of magnanimity, he may have forgiven me, but I still stand guilty before God. Until Jesus dies on the cross, I cannot receive God's forgiveness. Jesus prays for the Father to forgive those who are crucifying, and ironically, it is because they are crucifying him that they are forgiven. They really don't know what they're doing.

Even before the time of Christ, people were already coming to see crucifixion as an overly cruel and barbaric form of execution. There aren't many worse ways to die. To put someone through this exquisite torture is bad enough. To inflict it upon an innocent man is simply monstrous.

But all sin is monstrous in the eyes of God. Adam and Eve broke a seemingly arbitrary rule: don't eat from that one tree right there. Breaking the rule is not just about what you may or may not eat. It's about recognising the sovereignty of God. Adam and Eve's sin lay in trying to take God's place: trying to set the rules for themselves, to'be like God.' our own sins follow the same pattern. Knowing what is right, we choose to do something different, because 'this is a special situation.'

Because it's easier, cheaper, or more attractive to do the wrong thing. In all of it, we try to take God's authority for ourselves. And all our sins come to a head in the crucifixion: where we try to kill the Son of God, to take him out of the picture, so that we can perpetuate our own fantasies of being in control of our own destinies.

It's all cut from the same cloth. The little white lie that I tell for the sake of convenience is just as much rebellion against God as putting the hammer to the nails. In human terms there are differences, but in terms of absolute justice, there are no "big" sins and "little" sins. All sin is monstrous, and every one of us who has done anything wrong is just as guilty as those who crucified Jesus.

This is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it should call us into the depths of penitence. In the face of the Cross, we see the full enormity of our sins. We are all guilty of that injustice. But on the other hand, it should also call us into great awe and thankfulness. Jesus's prayer to the Father for forgiveness was not just offered for the sake of those who were tormenting him then and there. It was also on our behalf: a prayer of forgiveness for the sins of the whole world.

And so this double image: the mirror of God's love and of our sins overshadows us this Good Friday. As we sit in the shadow of the Cross, let us gratefully receive the gift of forgiveness we are offered, and praise God for his indescribably great love in offering it to us in the first place.