“It is finished!”

His human life was finished of course, brought on by the physical abuse His body had taken. But I believe there is much more to these words, and they can give us hope and strength when we carry our own crosses, and face our final breaths.

To see what was finished at the end of His life, we must go back to the beginning. God created the heavens and the earth and “all that is” from nothing but His love, for He is love. Jesus came to demonstrate what the God’s love looks like in a human being. At the Last Supper, according to the Gospel of John, Jesus prayed,

“Father, I glorify you on earth by finishing the work you have given me to do.” (17:4)

I feel certain there were times when Jesus wanted to quit, times He wished He could escape His awful responsibility. But He didn’t. He continued to show the Father’s love even after He was betrayed by His government, His religious leaders, and even His best friends. He refused to let Satan win the battle, so He chose the cross rather than the crown He could have had on earth. One of many lessons this teaches us, I think, is that there is a lot to be said for finishing.

There’s a wonderful example of this in a book by my friend Claire Cloninger, who is from the town where I live. Her husband, Spike, went to a track meet to see their son play, and one of the teams competing was from the nearby School for the Deaf. That team finished dead last, and by a large margin. Spike could see their disappointment in their slumped bodies and sad eyes. But then their coach, an overweight guy in Bermuda shorts and a baseball cap, came bounding down the steps, ran to his team, and joyfully embraced each one! He turned each of their faces to him so they could read his lips, then said loudly, “I’m so PROUD of you! You finished the race! You didn’t quit! You tried hard and you ran all the way to the finish line!”

Instantly the demeanor of those kids changed dramatically. Shoulders rose, and smiles lit their eyes like they had seen Jesus, themselves! And maybe they had. There He was, in that middle aged, balding guy in Bermuda shorts embracing his children, not for winning the race, but for trying hard and not quitting.

Maybe some of us are feeling tired, ready to quit. We are discouraged, we feel sad, our burdens feel heavy, our patience is worn out. Perhaps it might help us to remember that “finishing the race” doesn’t mean we have to come in first, or be the best. It means we do the best we can, with what we have, to do the work God has given us to do. That is all we can do. That is all He asks. And so, with our last words, let us, confidently say, with our Jesus,

“Into Your hands, I commit my spirit.” Lk. 23:46

In the sermon from the cross,
to all the prodigal children lost in distant lands,
To the disciples who forsook Him and fled
To the thief who believed and to those who didn’t know what they did to God,
To the whole bedraggled company of humankind he had abandoned heaven to join,
Jesus says,

“Come, everything is ready now”
In your fears and in your laughter,
In your friendships and farewells,
In your loves and in your losses,
in what you’ve been able to do
and in what you know you will never get done,
Come, follow me.
We are going home.”

Fr. John Neuhaus