Jesus Says It Is Finished

Attending the needy often means skipped meals Groups that stay late either walk home by moonlight or spend the night curled up on the cool grass. Sunset brings relief from Pharisees who use disruptive questions to annoy the disciples. Seclusion from the masses is sometimes necessary, so we find refuge in places where the Gentile population prefers little interaction with Galileans. A promise of quiet at the eastern shores across the lake is inviting. Because unique, small towns are more peaceful, hope soars. Our travels are never a secret. Streams of people in need of healing pursue our every launching and docking. They even follow us to homes where we are guests. Drained from lack of rest, I appreciate freedom from the pressure of meeting the needs of large crowds. The weather is pleasant, so I go to the stern of Peter’s boat to nap. I fall asleep to a gentle rocking before darkness spreads over the sky. As a wild wind sweeps the mountainside, a brutal storm encloses with thick sheets of rain. 17 Our strong crew fears the threat of a ferocious sea when howling winds cause huge waves to lash with brute force. Although these tough men have saved their craft many times, this tempest is a strength tester. The battle to save their flooding vessel is frantic for fear an adrenaline rush will subside. Muscles are cramping. Shaky faith drowns. Confidence evaporates. This turbulent fight against nature strains those who have forgotten they left shore at my command. With the Lord out of sight, they assume human efforts alone might spare them. Faith is essential to prevent a tragic loss of life. Smelling the breath of death at the stern, my friends turn to the only one who can help. Frightened disciples complain the deafening sounds block their cries. A foggy blackness conceals me while they work to exhaustion. Bright bursts of lightning streak the heavens and expose my cozy resting spot. Because a reply is not immediate, weakened trust evolves into fear. Supposing their friend, Jesus is powerless against a gale that measures the ability of ships to keep afloat proves lack of belief. A quick beam of light penetrates darkness to spotlight the Lord who is undisturbed by an uproar. Drenched, shivering, brave men wonder why. These loyal followers need Christ to be alert. 18In the Garden of Gethsemane, the fatal night of my arrest tests their devotion. Today, the Son of man sleeps in my Father’s arms. Then, a sleepy stupor will overcome them, so staying awake to join me in prayer is impossible. 19Just now they suppose the Messiah is unaware of their exhausting battle to live. In Gethsemane, intense dread hovers over me, so I am desperate for their prayers. 20The apostles forgot God perceives their struggle with depleting hope. In the Garden, the weighty, nauseous sins of this world are smothering me. Nailed to the cross I pray that each disciple withstands the shame of their nude Lord covered in bruises, lesions, and blood. My worst anguish is a terrible sense of separation from Father. Abba turning away from the repulsive sight of me saturated in the filth of sin is more painful than collapsing lungs I gasp to fill. Criminals on either side of me suffer hours longer because I will die from a broken heart. 21 Raging waters try to disrupt my balance, while a radiant light encircles heaven’s peace on the face of divinity. To encourage sailors grabbing oars ready to fight with the last splash of energy, a familiar view of Majesty merges with compassion. Recharged flashes show my calmness, which rebukes their terror. Holy hands lift toward God. This is a common scene when I do deeds of mercy. With the same authoritative gesture, I order this fuming sea to be quiet. The sky sparkles, and waves sink to a gentle rest. Because of unwavering faith, the storm ceases with a simple command, ‘peace be still.’ 22