Jesu Juva
St. John 19:30
April 3, 2026
Good Friday
Dear saints of our Savior~
The day is almost over. We have come to the setting of the sun, and we look to the evening light. Many people enjoy these evening hours. They find the setting sun to be inspiring—maybe even a little romantic. The kaleidoscope of colors splashed across the sky brings out the artist in all of us. At other times, though, the sunset simply signals that another day is done and completed—it is finished. But most of the time, we pay no attention to this daily occurrence. The sun sets. The sun rises. So what? We’ve seen it thousands of times.
But Adam had not seen it—not on his very first day of life in God’s good creation. Can you imagine what it must have been like for the first man on the first day of his existence? As Adam scampered through the garden of Eden, discovering all the marvels God had created, the glorious sun had warmed Adam’s skin and illuminated all the wonders of the sinless, sparkling world.
But there’s some ancient speculation concerning Adam’s first sunset. Adam didn’t ooh and ahh over that first setting of the sun. He instead became overwhelmed with fear because he assumed that the beloved sun was going away for good. To him, that virgin sunset was not poetic, pretty, or even routine; it was terrifying. All through the black hours of that night Adam wept as if he had seen the sun lowered into a distant grave, never to rise again. Only when the eastern sky began to blush with the first blue hues of dawn did Adam grasp what you and I have always known: The sun also rises.
Now, Adam’s first encounter with the darkness is simply the stuff of legend; but even this legend contains a kernel of truth about human loss. For I suspect that many of us know the horror Adam felt at his first sunset. You know what it’s like when your own “sun” vanishes, and your life descends into darkness. When you stand in the cemetery to bury a loved one—when illness ravages your body or your mind—when you are mired in the shame, regret, and guilt of your own sordid sin. In times like those, the light goes out and your life is swallowed by shadow. And it seems like the darkness will never disperse.
As you try and steer through those dark times, there is some comfort in the assurance that your “sun” will rise again—that it’s always darkest before the dawn—that loss and gain, like sunrise and sunset, are just a pattern for life in this world. One season following another, laden with happiness and tears.
But when the sun disappears in your life, the very best comfort is found in remembering that day when the sun—the real sun—the star at the center of our universe—did, in fact, disappear: Good Friday. On this holy day, as Jesus hung from His cross, the sun failed. The light went out. Darkness covered the face of the earth in the middle of the afternoon (not unlike the plague of darkness that preceded Israel’s exodus from Egypt). And this Tenebrae service—by design—calls to mind the darkness of those hours.
Of course, the darkness is a minor detail of Good Friday. The darkness draws us into a deeper truth. The darkness of Good Friday ultimately shows that you never dwell in the darkness alone. There’s Someone by your side who has survived the deepest darkness. Jesus was born into this world in the cold and in the dark, unwelcomed by the world He came to save. He knelt in darkness on the night before His execution, wrestling with the thought of His impending death, feeling such weight and pressure that His sweat became as drops of blood. He hung suspended in an unearthly darkness for three hours, impaled on a Roman tool of torture, forsaken by friends—and even by His Father—until He spoke His final word: It is finished.
When you are surrounded by the darkness and shame of your sin, you need to know that Jesus has joined you in that darkness. And, even better, Jesus has done something about it. It is finished. The darkness of our sin is banished. With this final word Jesus announces the fulfillment of all that He was sent to do for us and for our salvation. It is finished. Completed. Perfected. Mission accomplished. No loose ends for us to tie up, no missing pieces for us to puzzle over, nothing to be added, subtracted, multiplied or divided. It is finished. The redemption price is paid in full. The world’s sin—including yours—is atoned for. The Law of God has been fulfilled. The wrath of God has been appeased. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1). It is finished.
As surely as this day will end and the sun will set, Jesus’ saving work on your behalf is done. You can’t add to it by the good you do. You can’t undo it by the evil you do. You can only believe it . . . and receive it. For it is finished. Yes, Jesus is draped in darkness. But this scene is not scary. This is no cause for sadness. This is love! This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us (1 John 3:16). He is with you. He is for you.
In the darkness you are not alone. Jesus is a God who knows darkness firsthand. From the night of His birth until the day of His death, He felt its cold chill. He is the One beside you during your lightless hours. You may not always feel Him there. There may even be times when you do not want Him there. But there He is and there He will abide; for you are baptized—baptized into Christ—baptized into His death and resurrection.
When Jesus died His disciples must have felt like Adam at his first sunset. They must have grieved and mourned in fear. It must have terrified them that their Friend, who called Himself the Light of the World, was dead and gone, buried in the darkness of the tomb. But the sun also rises. At sunrise on the third day broke the light of life. The Son that died did also rise. In Jesus, even the darkness of the grave is no more permanent than the darkness of this night. The body that dies in Christ will also rise again. Because Jesus’ saving work is finished, your life will never be finished. You will live and reign with Him—in an eternal life with no more darkness, only light, only love, forevermore. It is finished.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
