Wednesday of Judica, 2026
- 2 days ago
- 2 min read
Six hours upon the Cross: from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon, Jesus does the full work of our redemption.
God did this work; God alone, in the flesh. And these numbers leave no room to say otherwise. They practically shout it from the crucifixion scene: “Behold,” they say, “the Author and Finisher of your faith, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, Christ Jesus—alone—has done this.”
Not you. Even while your fallen nature takes up stones, as it were, arguing differently. It still presses you to claim some part in your salvation: that there must be something—something in your life, something in your faith, something in your doing—that makes the difference. Yet there, at the Cross, all of that is taken away. Entirely.
For there Jesus hangs: the sinless One, dying an accursed death for sinners. And He does it alone.
Only after the work is accomplished—when nothing remains to be done—does anyone come near. Only then does Joseph of Arimathea step forward, only then does he ask for the body. Only then; not before, never before. After. After the hours have run their course, after the darkness has come and gone, after Jesus cries out with a loud voice, after He breathed His last: after the work of salvation is finished.
That is where we find ourselves. Even now. Even as the observation of that hour and day draws near. Even now, even then, and even after, we, like Joseph of Arimathea, take courage. We ask for the Body of Jesus. And Jesus, who died yet now lives to all eternity, gives Himself to us. From Him alone we receive the start, the middle, and the finish of our salvation.
Readings:
Old Testament: Zephaniah 3:1-8
Epistle: 1 Corinthians 1:21-31
Holy Gospel: Mark 15:20-47
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