It is Finished!
John 12: 12-19 and 19:28-30
April 13, 2025 (Palm/Passion Sunday)
Thanks again to Jerry Toshalis, my former spiritual director for some of the ideas in this message. We start with Palm Sunday which our children helped us remember. What a great day for Jesus and his followers! All appears calm. But underneath the surface, there was something else going on…that something would lead to death. And an invitation for us to also let go and die.
Two months ago, Lori and I were in one of our favorite spots as a couple. We were in St. Croix, Virgin Islands. We’ve been staying at the same AirBnB eight of the past nine years. It overlooks the Caribbean Sea.
Every day I walk down the hill from where we are staying to the shoreline less than a mile away. I sit on the sand next to a tidal pool. It connects the ocean to a body of water called the Salt Pond.
There is a rhythm here. There’s a certain order to this world of the tide pool. At low tide, the water is calm, still and peaceful.
I pull out my journal from my backpack and start writing. I reflect on my life these days.
If you were there, what would you be writing?
How would you describe your life these days?
Is it a time of peace when the waters are calm and still? All is right with the world.
On the other hand, is it a time when the waves are crashing into the shore? Life is overwhelming.
Or is it a time when the waters seem calm on the surface, but something is moving below the surface? Is there a stirring deep down, an invitation to something new and different?
At low tide, the water is calm, still and peaceful.
Or so it seems.
You aren’t sure. Was that a movement of something you noticed out of the corner of your eye or was it merely your imagination? Without disturbing the surface of the water, you wait.
Yes. That small shell on the bottom…it’s in a different location. There is something moving below the surface.
From inside the shell, tiny appendages reach out, grasping the sand, propelling the inhabitant across the sandy bottom of the tide pool. You think to yourself, the creature inside is moving. The shell appears to be coming along for the ride.
In fact, the occupant resides temporarily in this shell, for this creature is the Caribbean Hermit Crab.
Two things you need to know about a hermit crab. It comes into this life without a shell at all. Second, the survival and growth of a hermit crab depends upon its willingness to find a new shell. Indeed, it must let go of all that it has come to know as safe, and secure and predictable to find that new shell from time to time.
Thus, a great challenge is constantly presented to the crab. Can you imagine? You are growing. Your shell is not. Your life has become too cramped, too confining, too small. That, which once provided freedom, now impedes any further becoming.
So, on a particular day – a day perhaps like this, at a particular hour – an hour such as this, your time has come. You must leave your shell. You must go in search of another.
Can you imagine?
Just imagine the courage of the hermit crab. Imagine stepping beyond the confines of a shell that has become very familiar.
You ask: What will become of me? The world appears very different in the absence of my shell. Will I survive? As I have come to know it, is my life over – finished, done?
After Jesus drank the wine, he said, “It is finished. Everything is done.” He bowed his head and died.
We’ve been on a journey with Jesus during this Lenten season. Jesus’ ministry started out in Galilee. It was a wonderful time in Jesus’ life. The crowds were large. In the midst of the ordinary, extraordinary things were happening. People were being healed. Lives were being changed.
Not everyone was enthused. Some were afraid. Some thought Jesus was going too far. After all, he could be so direct sometimes, so blunt. Perhaps if he had couched his words a bit. Perhaps if he hadn’t referred to the Pharisees as white washed tombs. Perhaps if he had been more tactful. Who knows?
In time, Jesus seemed to become more agitated – as if he felt cramped somehow. It was as if he needed to stretch – to reach out. Yes, he seemed to be reaching for something or someone. For Jesus, it wasn’t happening here – not in Galilee, not anymore. Something had to change
And so, he stepped out. Jesus turned away from Galilee. He turned toward Jerusalem of all places. Beyond all that was known, and familiar and safe. He just stepped out.
How could he, we ask? How could he make himself so vulnerable and put himself at risk like that? How could he do that?
We, his disciples, argued with him. Some of us very openly. Others more privately. “Don’t do it. We can make things happen here in Galilee. We’re fine right where we are. We don’t need to change a thing. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It could be dangerous in Jerusalem. There are too many question marks. There is too much unknown about what a visit there might entail.”
We know how the story ends after Jesus headed to Jerusalem. It may have started with a Palm Sunday procession, but it ended with death.
After Jesus drank the wine, he said, “It is finished. Everything is done.” He bowed his head and died.
And so, where are we now? In the midst of all that we hoped for, now where are we? In the midst of all that God promised, now what? Here at the foot of the cross, what does this mean? What do these words of Jesus “It is finished” mean?
It sounds like the end. What can be clearer than that? It all is so final. It is Death.
We think about our lives these days. There is a rhythm here. There’s a certain order to this place and time. It could be that this is low tide now in our lives. The water is calm, still and peaceful.
But could this be a time when the waters seem calm on the surface, but something is moving below the surface? Is there a stirring deep down, an invitation to something new and different?
Just like a hermit crab, can you imagine? You are growing. Your shell is not. Your life has become too cramped, too confining, too small. That, which once provided freedom, now impedes any further becoming. How we’ve come to understand ourselves is about to change.
So, on a particular day – a day perhaps like this, at a particular hour – an hour such as this, your time has come. You must leave your shell. You must go in search of another.
Can you imagine stepping beyond the confines of a shell that has become very familiar. What will become of me? The world appears very different in the absence of my shell. Will I survive? As I have come to know it, is my life over – finished, done?
After Jesus drank the wine, he said, “It is finished. Everything is done.” He bowed his head and died.
The shell of our yesterday is no more. It is finished.
If this feels like death, it is because that is precisely what it is.
Suddenly, the truth becomes clear:
Our lives have become too cramped, too confining, too small.
We are growing.
Our shells are not.
Imagine the courage of the hermit crab.
Imagine the courage of Jesus.
Imagine stepping beyond the confines of your shell.
If this feels like death, it is because that is precisely what it is.
God help us.
Amen.
