part0018

A sk those who watched Kayla Montgomery run, and they will tell you that Kayla was a steady runner, a sturdy runner. Whip thin and determined, she was one of the fastest long-distance racers in the country. Trained eyes took note of her stride and strong finish. Her performance on the high school squad in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, caught the attention of coaches, competitors, and colleges. She set distance records, won state titles, competed in nationals, and eventually landed an athletic scholarship to Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tennessee.

Here is what you never would have imagined: she ran with no feeling in her legs. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of fifteen. The disease is an autoimmune disorder that strictly targets the myelin sheath of the nerves, affecting the brain and spine. Heat sensitivity is one of many possible symptoms of MS. When Kayla overheats, her MS symptoms flare up, leaving her numb from the waist down.

Still she wanted to run. She told her coach, “I want to run, and I want to run fast.” And she did. At one time she was ranked twenty-first in the nation.

The numbness would begin to set in after the first-mile marker. After that she relied on the momentum, as if on autopilot, to keep moving. Running was doable. Stopping? That was another story. She would cross the finish line with no ability to decelerate.

For this she depended entirely on one man, her coach. He was a fixture at the races, shouting, encouraging, and prodding, but his greatest contribution was catching. He caught Kayla. He would stand at the finish line awaiting her. She ran right into his arms. She didn’t slow down. He didn’t move. It was no small collision. When he finally was able to halt her forward progress, he would lift her five-feet-one-inch frame in a heap and carry her off the track.

Over and over she could be heard saying, “My legs! My legs! Where’d they go? Please help me. Please help me.”

He would carry her to a safe spot and give her water and ice. Gradually her body temperature would lower, and the feeling in her legs would return. 1

They had an agreement. She did the running; he did the catching. If he was not present to catch her, she would eventually crash into the next obstacle. But she never crashed, because he was ever present.

Your finish line is drawing near. Forgive the unsolicited reminder, but every stride and step bring you closer to your final one. Each beat of the heart is the click of a countdown clock. Your breaths are numbered. Your days are measured. No matter how well you run this race, you will not run it forever.

You’re going to need some help. Your strength expires at the finish line. The skill with which you have run? The competence with which you have competed? The determination that carried you around the track? Your training? Experience and accomplishments? They matter not at all once you cross the line.

Jesus has promised to be that Someone. He will not abandon you in your final moments. This is his promise. And this is the message of the cross.

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. (John 19:28–30 NIV )

Does the crucifixion qualify as a miracle? By all means. It embodies every feature of the other miracles in John’s gospel. In the miracle of the atonement, water didn’t become wine, but sinners became saints. On Calvary Jesus didn’t heal a servant with a proclamation; he healed all generations with an affirmation. On Good Friday Jesus didn’t tell a lame man to walk; he invited us all to dance.

With a single proclamation Jesus fed more than a crowd, stilled more than a storm, and gave sight to more than one man. His command at the Bethany cemetery was enough to call Lazarus from the grave. His announcement on Calvary was sufficient to save all who believe in him from eternal death.

Remove your hat. Take off your shoes. Silence all chatter and lower your eyes. This is a holy word, a sacred moment.

Jesus opens his swollen eyes and looks toward the heavens. His burning lungs issue enough air for him to announce, “It is finished.”

Do you recall how his work began? When he was twelve years of age, Jesus went missing in Jerusalem. After three days his parents found him in the temple, talking with the rabbis. “Why did you seek Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49). Even as a boy, Jesus had a sense of the family business, the work of redemption. His first recorded words marked its beginning. One of his final words signaled its completion.

Indeed, the Greek word tetelestai carries overtones of a business term. It was used to signify “paid in full” on debts such as levies or a tribute. The apostle Paul used a version of this word (Rom. 13:6) when he told us to “pay taxes.” The root teleó appears in verse 24 of Matthew 17: “Does your teacher pay the Temple tax?” ( NCV ). The term indicates a finalized transaction.

Christ’s word on the cross declares the same. “For by one offering He [Christ] has perfected forever those who are being sanctified” (Heb. 10:14). No further offering is needed. Heaven awaits no additional sacrifice. The work of Christ on the cross satisfied the demands of the eternal tribune. If that doesn’t qualify as a miracle, what does?

“And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit” (John 19:30). His head did not fall forward or slump. He bowed his head. He lowered his head. Jesus was no exhausted, swooning sufferer. “No one takes it [my life] from me,” he had promised, “but I lay it down of my own accord” (John 10:18 NIV ).

The man on the center cross commanded center stage. He was sovereign, even in—especially in—death. The family business to which he referred as a boy was finished some twenty-one years later and half a mile to the west, on the hill of Golgotha.

Exactly what was finished? The teaching of Christ? No, he would go on to teach in a resurrected body for forty more days. The leading of the saints? No, he continues, with the Holy Spirit, to guide his church. Was the healing ministry of Jesus complete? By no means. In concert with the Holy Spirit and the compassion of the Father, Jesus still heals. But there is one task to which he no longer needs to tend: the redemption of humankind.

“For our sake he [God] made him [Christ] to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21 RSV ). This verse describes the supernatural transfer of our sin to Christ and his righteousness to us. Jesus, God’s sinless Son, absorbed in himself our sinful state. And we, his rebellious creation, can receive the goodness of Jesus.

In an earlier verse Paul wrote, “in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor. 5:19 RSV ). God does not count our sins against us! Instead, he counts them against Christ. Jesus voluntarily accepted liability for your sins. He generously offers to you the reward of his perfection.

After Jesus “had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, [he] sat down at the right hand of God” (Heb. 10:12). Of course Jesus sat down. All that needed to be done had been done. All that needed to be paid had been paid.

I heard a similar phrase recently in a drive-through Starbucks line. I placed my order and then waited until the occupants of the car ahead of mine made their purchases and drove on. When my turn came, I pulled up to the window and offered the attendant my cash. She waved it away. “The folks in the car ahead of you paid for your drink. They said they recognized you from their church and wanted to cover your coffee.”

Who those people are, I do not know, but I know they are Christians of the highest caliber. And they set a sterling example for others to follow. “They left more than enough,” the attendant continued as she held up a twenty-dollar bill. Since my drink cost less than five dollars, I did what any good preacher would do. I looked in my rearview mirror, then looked back at the attendant, and ordered something to eat.

What I did not do was refuse the gift. What I did not do was tell the attendant I needed no assistance. What I did not do was dismiss the act of grace. I simply and gratefully received it.

Receive this, the great miracle of mercy. Let the grace of God flow over you like a cleansing cascade, flushing out all dregs of guilt and shame. Nothing separates you from God. Your conscience may accuse you, but God accepts you. Others may dredge up your past, but God doesn’t. As far as he is concerned, the work is once-and-for-all-time finished.

I took a break from writing this book to go to the beach with our family. Rosie, grandchild number one, was three-and-a-half years old and had never seen the ocean. We all wondered how she would respond to the sight. When she saw the waves and heard the roar of the water, she watched and listened and then finally asked, “When does it turn off?”

We ask the same about God’s grace. Surely it will dry up and stop flowing, right? Wrong. Surely we will exhaust his goodness, won’t we? Never. We will at some point write one too many checks on his mercy and love, correct? Incorrect.

Keep running the race. And as you run, be assured. A Friend is waiting for you at the finish line. When you cross it, he’ll catch you in his arms. Don’t be surprised if he says again what he said then: “It is finished.”