“It Is Finished.”

If I were preaching in a church on Easter Sunday, this would be my message.

In John 19:30, Jesus cried out, “It Is Finished!” Many of us have heard these words, but what do these words really mean? What was finished?

The Greek word is “tetelestai,” (τετέλεσται) which stands for completed, accomplished, paid in full.

What was completed? What was accomplished? Do we understand the scale of what just happened?

We often do not. Let me provide a few examples of key biblical events and describe them in different ways. Why? Because God often understates the magnitude of what He does, maybe because to Him, it’s not a big deal – there’s nothing He can’t do easily.

Creation

At first, there was no horizon—only a depth so complete it felt like silence had weight. Then, without warning, a voice—not heard with ears but felt through everything—spoke. It did not echo; it became.

Light tore open the void. Not a flicker, not a glow—an eruption. It surged outward like a living thing, pushing back the darkness as if it had authority over it. YOU felt it before seeing it, warmth rushing into nothingness, definition forming where there had been none we could understand.

The darkness recoiled, not destroyed but divided—held in its place. Time itself seemed to take its first breath.

Again, the voice moved, and the formless deep trembled. Vast waters gathered, rising and separating, as if guided by invisible hands. Space stretched above, depths sank below. Order unfolded in layers—sky, sea, boundary, purpose.

Then the ground emerged, breaking through the waters like a revelation. It was raw, new, trembling with potential. At another word, green life burst forth—sudden, unstoppable—color spreading across the newborn earth.

Nothing felt accidental. Every moment carried intention, as if the universe itself were being spoken into meaning—and YOU were there, watching existence awaken.

The Flood

The air changed first, heavy, swollen, as if the sky itself struggled to breathe. Then the horizon vanished. A wall of clouds rolled over everything, swallowing light, and the first drop struck like a warning. Another. Then a continuous roar.

Rain did not fall—it attacked. Sheets of water hammered the earth until the ground liquefied. The rivers crested their banks in a single violent breath, tearing trees from their roots, dragging stones like pebbles. Entire sections of the earth were shattered, cracked open, and the waters of the deep burst forth. A single landmass split into many, while continent-sized plates turned upside down. People shouted, animals screamed, and then were silenced by the rising chaos. Water from above, water from below—until there was no boundary left, no land, no refuge. Only waves.

YOU see the ark—vast, immovable—its doors sealed. Those seeking escape pound, begging, clawing at its sides, but it did not answer.

And still, the rain did not stop. Nothing survives but a tiny remnant.

The Plagues

The river turned first.

YOU stood on its banks at dawn, expecting the shimmer of life—but the Nile ran thick and red, stinking of death. Fish floated belly-up. The air soured. Fear grasped those present.

Then came frogs everywhere. In ovens, in beds, beneath your feet. When they died, their bodies rotted in heaps, and the stench clung like a curse.

The dust rose next—alive. It bit and crawled, covering skin and eyes. Livestock collapsed in the fields, their breath gone without warning. Boils followed, swelling and bursting; even the priests could not stand.

Thunder cracked from a cloudless sky. Hail fell like stones of fire, shredding crops, splintering trees. What survived was devoured by locusts—a living storm that left the land stripped bare.

Then darkness. Not night—but something heavier. It pressed against the chest, swallowed light, silenced voices. For three days, nobody moved.

And then…the final night.

A stillness deeper than death itself. By morning, every house wailed. Not one firstborn of Egypt was spared.

Pharaoh’s strength broke.

This was not natural, but divine judgment.

Parting The Red Sea

The wind came first—howling, unnatural, as if the breath of God Himself tore across the sea. You stood trembling on the shore, the thunder of chariots behind you; death is closing in. Then Moses lifted his staff.

And the sea… obeyed.

Before your eyes, the waters rose—walls of black, towering deep on either side, writhing as though alive. The seabed lay bare, glistening under a pale, fearful light—a path where none had ever been.

“Go!” someone cried.

YOU ran.

Children clutched their mothers. Old men stumbled forward. YOU dared to look—fish thrashed within the walls, suspended, watching us pass through what once was only their world. The wind never ceased, roaring in your ears, urging you onward.

Then—screams.

The Egyptians had followed.

YOU reach the far shore just as Moses turns. His arm falls.

The sea collapses on itself.

A thunder beyond thunder. Walls shatter, crashing down with furious might. Chariots vanish. Horses scream—and are silenced. Water swallows everything.

And then… stillness.

These are descriptions only. Yet, despite these examples of the glory and power of God put on display, His greatest work was yet to come. A work that would surpass all others in magnitude and importance. A work that could save each person alive, then and into the future, should they choose to be saved.

And So, It Begins

The sky dimmed to darkness, though it was still day, as if creation itself could not bear to look. You stand among the crowd, pressed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with dust and anger and something far heavier—grief undefinable. The hammer strikes, each blow echoing like thunder in your chest, seeming to echo across the land. Some jeered. Others wept. Most simply watched, unable to turn away from the horror of the spectacle.

He did not curse them.

Blood ran down the wood, dark against the splintered beam. His body trembled with each breath, each one a battle. Yet his eyes—God, his eyes—held no hatred, only a sorrow so deep it seemed to swallow the world.

“Father, forgive them,” he said, and I felt those words pierce deeper than the nails ever could. “Forgive me? I don’t deserve this sacrifice on my behalf.”

The wind rises suddenly—the ground beneath shudders. A cry lets loose from him—not of defeat, but of something fulfilled, something completed far beyond our understanding.

And then, with a final breath that seemed to carry the weight of all mankind, he said it, he yelled it to the heavens, and all creation heard the same.

IT Is Finished.

This isn’t a cry of defeat—it’s a universe-piercing celebration of victory.

– When creation was finished, it was good. Perfect.

– When the flood came, it finished one thing and started something new.

– When the plagues came, the Israelites’ time in slavery was finished.

– When Joshua entered Canaan, the victory was already won – finished.

So — What – what exactly was “finished,” this time? The greatest act in all recorded history, until the time of Revelation, is revealed. That’s what was finished, and every atom in the never-ending universe heard it. It means He:

1. Completed the work of redemption and fulfilled all of scripture.

In the ancient world, tetelestai was written on receipts to indicate a bill had been settled in full. Jesus completed the mission he came to do—teaching truth, revealing God’s character, and ultimately offering Himself as a sacrifice for the sin of the entire world—had reached its intended conclusion. Jesus was declaring that the cost of humanity’s sin had been completely covered—no further payment required. Nothing prophesied concerning him in the Old Testament remained undone.

2. Removed the need for the Old Testament sacrificial system

The temple sacrifices pointed forward to this moment. With Christ’s death, the need for repeated sacrifices to cover sin ended—He became the final, perfect offering.

3. Perfectly obeyed the Will of God

Even through suffering, abandonment, and death, He had carried out the Father’s plan perfectly.

Why it matters

“It is finished” means salvation isn’t something you earn—it’s something Christ has already accomplished, and you only need to accept it. Your response must be to act in faith, not to strive or work to earn something He paid in full, once for all, for you.“It is finished” is not an ending filled with despair—it is the greatest turning point in history – that of redemption. What looked like the end to many was, in truth, the beginning of a restored relationship between God and humanity. He paid the price. What will YOU do?