"Good Friday in 4 Acts"

ACT ONE: It Should Have Been Me

Isaiah 53:5 (ESV)

"But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed."

Watching these scenes—Jesus being betrayed, beaten, flogged, mocked, pierced, and nailed—it’s horrifying. But it’s easy to see it like a movie. Just sit back, detached. Desensitized. 

It’s easy to feel very removed from it. It was a long time ago. It happened but it’s just history.” We feel sorry for Jesus. 

Ever had that feeling—when something bad happens to someone else, and you’re like, “That could’ve been me. That should’ve been me”? Like when you slow down just in time but someone else gets pulled over—or you get caught going 90 in a 65 but the cop lets it go with a warning (not that I would know anything about that!) Or when a friend gets caught for something you got away with. Like someone gets in trouble with a teacher or the boss for saying out loud what you were thinking. 

When someone takes the fall so you don’t have to. 

In The Dark Knight, Batman takes the blame for Harvey Dent’s crimes so the people can still believe in hope. In The Hunger Games, Katniss takes the place of her sister by volunteering as tribute. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Aslan takes Edmund’s place to be executed for his betrayal saying, “Though the law demands his blood, I offer mine in his place.” 

All these are types of Christ.

Echoes of what the cross is.

Jesus was pierced for our transgressions. Crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace—He took it. Every hammer swing, every lash of the whip, every word of mockery and insult—it should’ve been us. But it wasn’t. He took our place.

He didn’t die for an idea. He died for you. Not the version of you you want people to see—the cleaned-up, filtered, version of you who got away with it. No. The real you. The one who yells in traffic. The one who thinks the most terrible things about the people you love. The one who is guilty as sin and carries so much secret shame. All of us who pretend we got it all together on the outside...

We see Jesus on that cross, and we know: That should’ve been me.

ACT TWO: The Final Word

John 19:30 (ESV)

"When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, 'It is finished,' and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."

Sin talks a lot—it has a lot to say. So does shame. And they both love to preach. Their favorite sermon subject? “You’re not good enough. You’re a fraud. You’ll never change.”

And you know—they’ve got a lot of material to work with. The burden of proof is on their side.

But Jesus interrupts. On the cross, He speaks louder than the voice in your head, louder than the voice of the enemy, louder than your own self-doubt. Do you hear what He’s saying? 

Stop. Silence! Be still.

“It. Is. Finished.”

Not “I’m finished.” Not “You’re finished.” Not giving up or condemnation. But “It.” All of it.

The debt is paid. The sin is covered. The guilt is gone.

That list of things that keep you feeling shame—they’re silenced. The cross isn’t a guilt trip. It’s a declaration. He took care of everything for you. It was His idea. He wanted to do it for you. Jesus didn’t die to make you try harder. The Christian life isn’t a life of obligation, it’s a life of freedom. He died to set you free. Jesus didn’t suffer to make you feel bad. He did it to make you good. To cancel the record of debt and sin that stood against you. That’s what He wants you to know, that’s what His blood on the cross is speaking to you—silencing your sin.

Like blowing out a candle. Like waking up from a nightmare and realizing it was just a dream. Like flash paper—poof—it’s gone. That’s what grace does. That’s what love does. The cross of Jesus finishes what we would have left undone, and would have undone us.

ACT THREE: The Nails Tell the Story

Galatians 2:20 (ESV)

"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Nails.

They’re small. Just little bits of metal. But on the cross, they carried the weight of the world.

And we could blame the Roman soldiers for driving them into His hands and feet. We could blame the Jewish leaders who called for the crucifixion.

Again, we could try to remove ourselves from what happened that day.

But we don’t want to do that. We need to consider that it was our hands that also hammered in those nails. Our sin. If it was for us then it was also because of us. 

But when Paul says, “I have been crucified with Christ,” he doesn’t mean, “You should feel really guilty about what happened to Jesus.” He means we died, too. 

The old me? The pride, the fear, the hidden sin, the crushing weight of trying to perform and prove myself? Nailed. If it was for us, it was also us.

The nails don’t just tell Jesus’ story. They tell mine. And yours.

Because if you belong to Christ—if you are connected to Him in baptism and faith—then you died with Him. You were crucified with Him. And the life you live now is a resurrection life. A gift of new life. A grace-filled, nail-pierced, blood-bought life. 

You died with Christ.

ACT FOUR: The Empty Place Where My Name Was

Colossians 2:13–14 (ESV)

"And you, who were dead in your trespasses... God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross."

In a few minutes, you're going to write your name on a piece of paper.

It’s just your name written in Sharpie. But tonight, it stands for more.

It represents all the sad and shameful things you’ve done. All the guilt and shame you carry. Every regret. Every thought. Every word. Every sin. All of it.

You’ll write your name. Then you’ll take a hammer. And you’ll drive it into the wood.

Because that’s what happened that day. He took your name. Your sin. Your story. And it was nailed with Him to the cross.

And then—here’s the Gospel—He made the old you and your entire criminal record—He made it disappear.

Consumed. Gone. Your sin is canceled. The debt is paid.

But the nail? That stays.

The cross still bears the scar. Because Jesus still bears the scar. He’ll always carry the marks of His love for you. 

So when you walk away tonight, there will be a nail driven into the place where your name, representing all your sin, used to be. We all started under the weight of our old name, we leave with the promise of a new one.

Jesus took your old sin stained life to the grave. And when He rises, He gives you a new one with no record of who you used to be. He writes your new name in the Lamb’s Book of Life—nothing will ever be able to remove it.

Tonight isn’t just about sorrow. It’s about surrender.

It’s not just about remembering and feeling sad about His death. It’s about dying with Him—so you can rise with Him.

You’ve been crucified with Christ. And it’s no longer you who live, but Christ who lives in you.

The promise of a new life, connected to Jesus, filled with hope.

A little later, we’ll gather around the cross in another way.

We’ll eat the bread and drink the wine—His Body and Blood, given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in remembrance.

This isn’t just a memory. It’s not just a ritual. It’s real.

Tangible grace. Actual forgiveness.

What Jesus began by laying down His life, He continues tonight—feeding you, restoring you, claiming you as His own.

Is there something you carry in your heart, some secret shame that no one knows about but you? Something that makes you feel like a fraud? Something that keeps you from letting go of the old self who keeps trying to drag you down and hold you back?

Tonight is a beautiful picture of letting go of all that.

See your Savior and what He did for you.

You are connected to Him. You died and you rose with Him.

Hear His words and believe them:

“It is finished.”