It is Finished: The Final Breath of the Savior

. Over these seven episodes , we will journey through the final days of Jesus Christ , from the moment of Judas's betrayal to Jesus's glorious ascension . Tonight , we journey with Jesus to Golgotha , where he carries the cross , bearing the weight of our sins . Through his suffering , the veil is torn , granting everyone direct access to him .

The weight of the cross presses deep into torn flesh , splinters pierce raw wounds , and each staggering step is met with the cruel sting of dust and blood

mingling on bruised skin . The sun , though , climbing toward its zenith , feels muted , as if creation itself mourns . Dark clouds gather on the horizon , the edges curling with an ominous warning . A hush falls over the crowd , punctuating only by the jeering of soldiers and the sobs of a few faithful ones who dare to stay close . Jesus stumbles .

His battered body , already broken from the lashes of Roman whips , collapses under the burden of the crossbeam . A soldier , impatient and unmerciful , yanks him forward , but it is Simon of Cyrene who is forced to shoulder the wood . His eyes met Jesus' for a fleeting moment , eyes filled not with rage , not with resistance , but with sorrow , with love .

Simon of Cyrene , a strong-built man with broad shoulders , darkened by years of labor in the fields , had come to Jerusalem for the Passover . He never intended to be part of this scene of horror . The Roman soldier's grip on his arm had been firm , allowing no protest . As he stepped forward , his heart pounded , not in fear , but in a strange , unexplainable sorrow .

The moment his hands touched the rough , blood-streaked wood , he felt its weight , not just its physical burden , but something deeper , something pressing against his soul . Jesus turned his head slightly , his face marred with sweat and blood , his lips cracked and dry . A silent understanding passed between them . Simon had carried heavy loads before , but nothing like this .

This was the weight of a condemned man's suffering . As they moved forward , Jesus , though struggling , walked beside him . With every faltering step , Simon felt the frail warmth of his presence . Simon felt the frail warmth of his presence and yet , in that fragile , battered frame , there was a strength , something unbreakable , something eternal .

The road to Golgotha is long , winding through the heart of Jerusalem , past those who had waved palm branches only days before . Now, some spit , some mock , some turn away , unwilling to watch what they once welcomed . The women , Mary , his mother , Mary Magdalene , and others follow , follow their garment stamp with tears .

Jesus , through labored breath , speaks to them daughters of Jerusalem , do not weep for me , but weep for yourselves and for your children . Simon listens , his chest heaving with exertion . He wonders who is this man who , even now , carries the grief of others ? Each footstep forward burns into Simon's memory .

He has never met Jesus before this day . Yet something inside him tells him he will never forget him . The hill looms ahead , Golgotha , the place of the skull . The earth beneath it is dry , cracked , waiting . The soldiers waste no time . Stripped of his garments , Jesus is thrown onto the wooden beams .

Two soldiers grab his arms , their grip like iron , pinning them down . Another , his face set with practiced indifference , kneels beside him and places the first nail at the base of his wrist . With a brutal practice swing , the hammer falls . Bone and tendon snap under the force .

Jesus' body tenses , his jaw clenches against the searing agony , but he does not scream Again . The hammer strikes , securing his hand to the wood . The same is done to the other wrist and then to his feet , one placed over the other .

A final spike driven through flesh and bone , locking him to the cross , blood spills seeping into the rough grain of the wood , dripping onto the dust below . Now comes the task of raising the cross . The soldiers , hardened by years of executions , grip the thick ropes fastened to the top . With grunts and heaves , they begin to pull .

The base of the cross scrapes against the ground as it rises , inch by inch , the weight of Jesus' body shifts . His raw wounds tear further , his muscles strain as the cross smears upright . It jerks suddenly before slamming into place with a sickening jolt .

The impact sends a fresh wave of agony through his limbs , sends a fresh wave of agony through his limbs , his chest heaving as he struggles to draw breath against the weight of his own body . Beside him , two thieves are also nailed to crosses , their agony mingling with his . One thief , his face twisted with pain and resentment , sneers at Jesus .

Are you not the Christ ? Save yourself and us ? His words are laced with mockery , his heart hardened even in his final moments . But the other thief , his voice strained and weak , rebukes him . Do you not fear God , since you are under the same sentence of condemnation ? And we , indeed justly , for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds .

But this man has done nothing wrong . But this man has done nothing wrong . Jesus , his eyes , heavy with suffering yet filled with mercy , turns toward him . There is no bitterness in his gaze , only compassion . The thief's voice wavers as he pleads Jesus , remember me when you come into your kingdom With the last reserves of his strength .

Jesus speaks words of unfathomable grace . Truly , I say to you today you will be with me in paradise . Below the people watch Mary . His mother clutches her chest as though her own heart has been pierced . The lines on her face , deepful face , pale .

The beloved disciple stands beside her , his youthful face , pale , his knuckles white , as he clenches his hands together . He had followed Jesus through countless miracles , had sat beside him at the Last Supper , had rested his head upon his chest , and now he watches helplessly as his teacher , his friend . His Lord hangs between heaven and earth .

Mary Magdalene falls to her knees , her auburn hair spilling over her tear-streaked face as she gasps for breath between sobs . The one who had freed her from darkness , who had called her by name with such tenderness , is now abandoned to suffering . Her fingers dig into the dust as if

she could somehow hold on to him , keep him from slipping away . She has never known love as she did in Jesus , a love pure , redeeming , unwavering . And now that love is bleeding out before her eyes , darkness begins to fall . The sky bruises with an unnatural twilight , shadows stretching long over the ground .

Jesus lifts his weary head , his swollen eyes , looking beyond the suffering , beyond the pain . His voice , weak yet resolute , breaks the stillness . Father , into your hands , I commit my spirit . Into your hands , I commit my spirit . The moment hangs heavy , the weight of eternity pressing upon the world .

His final prayer is not one of defeat but of surrender of trust . Even in his agony he calls out , not in anger but in faith . A final breath shudders through his body , then silence , and then the earth trembles . A great , violent quake splits the ground , shaking the city . Stones topple from buildings , the streets crack open .

The sky , once dim , is now thick , with unnatural darkness . The temple curtain thick , unyielding tears from top to bottom , with a sound like thunder , an invisible force rendering the barrier between God and man . Those in the temple cry out in terror , some falling to their knees as the weight of the moment crushes their spirits .

In the streets , people stagger , gripping walls , staring wide-eyed at the sky . Fear grips their hearts , a realization settling over them like a cold shroud Something beyond human understanding has happened . At Golgotha , the centurion falls to his knees , trembling . He has seen death before , but never like this . Truly , this man was the son of God .

The wind ceases , the earth stills and all of heaven holds its breath . The room was heavy with the scent of ink and parchment , the dim light of the oil lamps flickering , casting dancing shadows against the stone walls . The air was thick with the weight of the words that hung between them .

Matthew , Mark , Luke and John , the four men who had seen the unimaginable , who had seen the unimaginable , sat in the dim glow quills poised , each of them wrestling with the task of bringing the truth to life . They had come together not just as witnesses but as bearers of the burden of memory of the story that was now unfolding before the world .

Matthew's fingers trembled slightly as he set his quill to the parchment . The weight of it all , the truth of Christ's suffering , the agony of the cross , it was almost too much to put into words . The quill scratched against the paper and for a moment the room fell silent as each man wrestled with his own thoughts . Mark broke the stillness first .

His voice gruff , as if he had been holding something inside for far too long . John , he said , leaning forward , eyes locked on the other man . What was it like To be there To see it , to watch it all unfold ? His voice faltered , but he pushed on . You were closer to him than any of us . How did you bear it ?

John looked up from his parchment , his face drawn , the lines of grief still fresh in his eyes . His voice was soft , almost a whisper , but in the quiet room it was as if his words filled every corner . It was like nothing I can describe . He began , his hand resting on the paper , as though he could feel the weight of the moment even now .

I stood at the foot of the cross and it felt as if the whole world had collapsed . The sky darkened and the earth trembled beneath me , but all I could see was him , the blood , the suffering , the love . It was like nothing . My eyes had ever seen Nothing . My heart had ever felt . Luke always . The physician leaned in his brow , furrowed .

What of his words , John ? What did he say to you , to his mother ? John's breath caught in his chest and for a moment his eyes closed , as if the memory was too painful to bear . The room seemed to grow colder , the flickering light dimming as his voice carried them back to that moment on the hill . He looked at me .

His eyes , even through the agony , they were full of love , full of something that I couldn't even begin to understand . Then Jesus said "Behold your mother . John's voice cracked and he paused , drawing a shuddering breath . Jesus commanded me , entrusted me with her care . Behold your mother , he said .

And in that moment it wasn't just a command , it was a gift , a calling . Mark's eyes darkened as he let the weight of John's words settle over them . He shifted uncomfortably , the sorrow heavy in his chest . Mark said John , you were entrusted with her , his mother . That's a burden no one should have to bear , but also a deep honor .

Matthew , whose hands had been clenched around his quill , slowly released it and looked to John , his voice hushed . Did she speak ? His mother , Mary , did she ? John's eyes were distant , now lost in memory . He said she stood there silent , her eyes never leaving him . She was broken , but she didn't cry out , not like I thought she might .

She watched helpless as he hung there and in her silence I could hear her soul breaking . John paused , his breath ragged , when he spoke to me , to give her into my care . I knew no one else could have understood the depth of what he was asking . It was more than just the care of his earthly mother . It was his love , his trust that he placed in me .

Luke shifted his hands , pressing against the table , saying but in that moment , John , when he entrusted you with his mother , did you know what he meant , or did it take time for you to understand ? John hesitated , his eyes moment, I didn't understand, but in the days t followed, but glistening in the dim light , he said .

At that moment I saw what he had meant . He wasn't just asking me to care for her body . He was asking me to protect her heart . He was asking me to be there for her in a way that no one else could be , to carry that love he had for her and to carry it for her for the rest of my life .

Mark sat back in his chair , his gaze distant , as if he too could feel the enormity of that moment . It must have been a gift but also a heavy burden to bear . John nodded slowly , his face drawn with the memory . It was both a gift and a burden .

I carried his love for her with me always , and the pain of that moment , of watching him die , of being there with his mother , of hearing him speak those words to me . It never left me . The silence in the room deepened , each man absorbed in the weight of their own thoughts , their own memories .

The oil lamps flickered , casting long shadows along the walls , as if the very room itself was holding its breath , waiting for the next word to fall . Matthew's quill scratched against the parchment . Again , the sound , a stark contrast to the heaviness of the room . Matthew said I wrote of his death .

He murmured , his quiet voice , almost reverent of the darkness that fell of the veil in the temple tearing . It was as if the world itself mourned his passing . Luke's voice , hoarse with emotion , joined in saying and yet , even in the midst of all that pain , he spoke with such love , such care , his heart for his mother , for us . It was overwhelming .

Mark , who had been silent for a long time , finally spoke , his voice rough with emotion , saying and now we write . We captured this moment . We tell the world what we saw and still it feels . It feels so small and so inadequate . John looked up , his eyes shining with quiet conviction . We write what we know , what we saw , what we felt .

We write of him , not just in his death but in his life in his love and even if his life In his love , and even if the words don't seem enough , they are all we have . The four men sat there , the quills resting in their hands , the weight of the task before them almost too much to bear .

They had witnessed the unimaginable , the suffering and the glory , and now they were entrusted with telling the world . The room felt charged with the reverence of their task and for a moment it was as if the air itself held its breath . John's voice , soft but filled with deep certainty , broke the silence .

He said this is not the end , this is only the beginning . This is only the beginning . And as the others nodded , each man knew what they wrote would echo through time . Their words , their stories would carry the truth of the Savior's love , the depth of His sacrifice and the promise of his resurrection .

As we close this episode , take a moment to sit with what we have just heard . Picture yourself

at the foot of the cross , standing alongside John , Mary and the women who followed Jesus . Imagine the weight of the sky darkening , the air growing thick with grief , the earth trembling beneath your feet . The voices of the crowd , some mocking , some mourning still echo in your ears .

The soldiers stand by indifferent to the suffering before them , the thieves crucified beside the Savior . Each respond in different ways , one in scorn , the other in surrender . And above it all , Jesus hangs , bearing the weight of the world's sin , whispering words of forgiveness , even as he breathes his last breath . What do we take from this ?

What do we carry forward into our own lives ? Consider the cross . Jesus carried it through the streets , his body broken and weak , yet he bore it willingly . That cross was not just two wooden beams . It was a symbol of every burden , every sin , every sorrow that humanity has ever known . What crosses do we bear ?

What pain , regret or struggle weighs upon your shoulders ? And when we feel that we cannot take another step , are we willing , like Jesus , to surrender to God's greater purpose ? Are we willing to trust that even in suffering , there is redemption ? There is redemption and Jesus , in His boundless grace , assured him .

In these two men we see the choice that we all must make . Will we harden our hearts , rejecting grace , or will we humble ourselves , recognizing our need for a Savior ? Even in the final moments of life , mercy is still extended . It is never too late to turn to Him . Now consider John , the beloved disciple . He remained at the cross when others had fled .

In the midst of his own fear and sorrow , he stood firm . And because of his faithfulness , Jesus entrusted him with a great responsibility caring for his mother , Mary , what has God placed in your hands ? Who has he entrusted to you , whether it be a family member , a friend or even a stranger in need ?

Are we willing to be faithful in the callings that God has placed before us , no matter the cost ? Then there is Mary . The mother of Jesus imagined her pain as she watched her son suffer , as she heard his final words , as she felt the finality of death take him from her . Yet in her pain , she remained present , she did not turn away .

Sometimes in life we are called to endure deep sorrow , to stand beside those who suffer , to hold on to faith even when all seems lost . What do we do in our darkest hours ? Do we trust that God is still at work , even when we cannot see the full picture ? That God is still at work , even when we cannot see the full picture .

And let us not forget Mary Magdalene , a woman once bound by demons , now set free , now fully devoted to the one who saved her . She followed him to the cross and watched him die . Her story reminds us that Jesus redeems the broken , that no past is too far gone for grace to reach .

How often do we carry the weight of our past , believing we are unworthy of love and redemption ? Yet Jesus , in his mercy , calls us by name , just as he called Mary . Do we listen ? Do we recognize his voice when he speaks ? Then there are the Roman soldiers .

They had seen crucifixions before To them , this was another day's work , another execution in a long line of condemned men . And yet something was different . As the sky darkened , as the earth quaked , as Jesus breathed , his last one soldier uttered words that would change everything . Truly , this man was the Son of God .

Even the hardest hearts can be softened by the truth of Christ . Even those who once stood in opposition can come to see the light . Do we believe that God can still change hearts today , even the hearts of those we consider our enemies , even our own ? And finally , the crowd , the ones who shouted crucify him .

The ones who sneered and spit , who mocked and ridiculed . They had seen his miracles , heard his teachings , but in the heat of the moment they turned against him . How often do we too , follow the crowd ? How often do we let fear , anger or pressure dictate our actions , leading us away from truth ?

Are we willing to stand firm in faith even when the world is against us ? And then the veil Torn in two from top to bottom . In that single moment , everything changed . No longer was there separation between God and man , no longer was access to the Father limited .

The sacrifice had been made , the price paid in full , and now we are invited into the presence of God , no longer distant , no longer held back by sin . Do we live in that freedom ? Do we walk boldly into the grace that has been given to us ? As we close , I leave you with this the cross was not the end .

The story did not end in darkness , in sorrow or in death . We must carry forward the truth that was entrusted to the disciples , to the women , to the witnesses who stood beneath the cross . We are not just observers of the story , we are a part of it . It is our story , our redemption , our invitation to live a life transformed by love .

So I ask you , what will you do with the cross ? What will you do with the choice of the two thieves , the faithfulness of John , the sorrow of Mary , the devotion of Mary Magdalene , the realization of the soldiers and the mistake of the crowd .

If , today , you find yourself carrying burdens too heavy to bear , if you feel like you have strayed too far or that your past is too broken , know this Jesus carried his cross for you . His love has no limits . His mercy reaches even the furthest heart . Whatever weighs on you today , lay it down at the foot of the cross .

Lay it down at the foot of the cross . May we choose faith over doubt , surrender over pride and love over fear . May we stand at the foot of the cross , not as strangers , but as those who have been forever changed by the one who died for us and rose again .

And as you step back into your life , into your routine , into the noise of the world , remember this moment . Hold on to it . Carry the cross not as a burden but as a symbol of hope . Live boldly , love deeply and never forget . This is not the end , it is only the beginning .

Thank you for joining me tonight as we journeyed through this fifth episode of The Kiss , The Cross and The Crown . I pray that you carry these reflections with you into your day , into your week , and that you find your strength in knowing

God is with you in every trial , every temptation and every step of obedience . If this time in God's Word has encouraged you , take a moment to share it with someone who might need it , and be sure to join me next time as we continue walking from Judas' kiss to Jesus' glorious ascension , learning , growing and staying faithful in the field of life .

Until next time . May you find peace in the quiet trust in God's call and rest in His unchanging love . This is In the Field Audio Bible where we Listen to the Bible One Chapter at a Time .

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