Kel10

By: Darrin

It is Finished.

“It is finished.” Words our Savior uttered on the cross, with His last breath, when He took punishment in my place. Events that occurred before that moment––miracles, struggles, one-on-one talks, temptations, pain and suffering, the tears of joy and persevering––he did all of it sinlessly to identify with me in all my moments. Never did He lose sight of the goal, His purpose, and divine call. The moment these words were spoken, God, in His perfect timing brought fulfillment to so much. Jesus seized the moment with three words that split time in two––with a period of definitive resolve. I believe the enemy shook as he could no longer revoke what had transpired. The work of redemption was done. Christ had paid the price in full, with no lack. 

So powerful are these three words that they ripple forward into my recovery. Jesus finalized my struggle and battle against addiction. He did that for me as a complete work and called it finished. In Christ I am now free. In Christ I belong to God’s family as His own. In Christ God claims me unto Himself with no regrets. He delights in me as He sees His Son and His work alive in me daily. This isn’t a debating statement. Jesus said the battle is over. It is won and it is finished! Thank You Jesus for everything. Thank You for doing it all for me. I love You.

By: Kelton

I am thirsty. (John 19:28)

You don’t need a biology degree to know that if a human goes too long without water, they’ll eventually die. But beyond the physiological realm, thirst is a good metaphor for describing the deepest desires of the human heart––those core cravings which the earthly cisterns of porn, worldly applause, success, compulsive eating, even religion couldn’t quench for me. But thirst ultimately points to our spiritual need for God and highlights the fact that just as the body literally cannot exist without natural water, so the soul of man will perish––in this life and the next––without drinking of the “living water” that leads to eternal life (Jn 4:10).

Obviously, a sip of vinegar-infused water served on a bitter hyssop-branch wasn’t going to quench the thirst of Christ on the cross. So, what did he mean by, “I am thirsty” (Jn 19:28)? More than Christ merely going through the motions of fulfilling an ancient word of prophecy (Ps 22:15), or seeking some temporary relief amidst his suffering, I believe the statement, “I am thirsty” reveals his unquenching desire to carry out the Father’s will, his compassionate concern and care to meet the needs of others above himself, and points to the eternal ache and fiercest longing of God––for every single beating heart to come to repentance (2 Pt 3:9). I think it also highlights the radical empathy of Jesus, shown in his willingness to share our humanity, shoulder our burdens, even subject himself to something as primal as thirst. His divine dehydration, parched passion, and scandalous selflessness of Christ––to suffer the penalty of our sin on a criminal’s cross––is a simple, yet profound, reminder that we are loved without conditions, freely forgiven, even worth dying for.  

A Prayer of Thirst

Jesus, 

Your divine dehydration supplies the fountain of living water leading to eternal life; thank you. In worshipful response, I will thirst for the things You thirst for. In Jesus’s name, amen.

By: Doug K.

Woman, behold your son. (John 19:26)

As I think about Jesus hanging on the cross, I can only imagine how excruciatingly painful it would have been for him to say anything. Everything He said on the cross must have been critically important to him. Therefore, when He spoke the words, “Woman, behold your son” to ensure that his mother would be taken care of long term, it should not come as a surprise. His love for his mother was evident and was obviously of top priority to Him, and worth the pain. Jesus, the Son of God, in the process of taking on all our sins while dying on the cross, was also a son who loved his mother and wanted to take care of her. 

What was a surprise is why Jesus directed Mary to his disciple John (the disciple that He loved) instead of Mary’s other sons (James, Joseph, Simon and Jude). Why did he not direct Mary to one of them instead? I can only speculate that they were not there. Only John was present. John was there supporting Mary in her grief and suffering as she observed her son on the cross. John was giving us an example of the ministry of presence. He was present at the cross, he was available, and he was supportive. As a result, Jesus knew that John would be take care of her. I am reminded that sometimes in life’s most difficult times, we often don’t need words or advice, but rather just need someone to be with us so we do not feel alone. I want to be like John and be willing and available to offer the ministry of presence to others in my life.

Father, please help me recognize the people in my life that need the ministry of presence, and help me be there for them. Amen.

By: Chris A

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” (Luke 23:46)

The final recorded words of Jesus, before He breathed His last, are not the cry of a victim; they are the proclamation of a king! Jesus was not a victim of the cross; He was the author of the sacrifice. 

In my recovery journey, I thought surrender meant giving up, waving the white flag, admitting life had beaten me. But true surrender is not resignation. It is trust. It is the moment I finally released the exhausting illusion of control and placed my life into hands far steadier than my own. Anyone who has walked the road of addiction recovery knows this moment. It often comes after the striving has failed. You know, the promises to “do better,” the plans to “try harder,” the bargains made between self and God. Eventually, I had to came to a place where Step One became undeniable for me: I was powerless to manage this on my own.

But recovery doesn’t end there. It moves toward the hope of Step Three––“turning our will and our lives over to the care of God”. Even in agony, even when everything appeared lost, Jesus models this posture [in His final breath] and entrusts himself to the Father, and that is the heart of recovery. We do not recover by gripping life tighter. We recover by placing our lives—our fears, our failures, our cravings, our future—into the hands of God. Not once, but again and again. “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit” is more than Jesus’ last sentence. It is a daily prayer for those of us learning to live free. And what’s beautiful about this is that the hands we surrender to are the same hands that raise the dead.

By: Aaron W.

Today you will be with me in paradise (Luke 23:43).

“Today you will be with me in paradise,” Jesus spoke to a criminal hanging next to him, one living in the reality of his punishment. In honesty, I often want to be that man, but without the cost of suffering or facing my own inner turmoil.

In Michael O’Brien’s A Father’s Tale, a character reflects that three crosses grow in every heart: the cross of Jesus, the repentant thief, and the unrepentant thief. He notes that while we hope to suffer like Jesus or even the repentant thief, we often find ourselves as the unrepentant thief—resentful and making others pay for our unhappiness. Yet, seeing ourselves as we truly are is the precondition for repentance. When we acknowledge we are the unrepentant thief, the wellsprings of spiritual transformation open, and we can turn to Jesus for forgiveness, becoming the repentant thief.

Much of my addiction and recovery was spent avoiding suffering by blaming others for my discomfort and then acting out or acting in to cope with the pain. I refused to face reality, trapped in cycles of shame. However, acknowledging and accepting my character defects and taking ownership of my impact on others allows for ground of true transformation.

While the repentant thief only asks to be remembered, Jesus offers His presence: “Today you will be with me…” If the opposite of addiction is connection, this “paradise” takes root in the furrowed soil of our brokenness. It is incredible that Jesus, in His own agony, communicates a desire to be with the one living in reality.