Time Past, Time Present and Time to Come

They threw Him down, not with the force of rage but with the cold efficiency of men who had done this hundreds of times before. Yet the Lamb without blemish received the wooden embrace of the cross with unsettling grace. There was no resistance, only resolve. He was determined to set the scene for grace, the grace that would always be enough for us. They stretched out His arms, calculating where the nails should go. His body yielded, but His mind wandered. Just for a moment. Just long enough. He felt the cold steel press against the delicate flesh of His wrist. He braced himself. With a deep inhale, He fixed his eyes on the hammer. He was determined to feel it all, every splinter of wood, every jagged edge of the nail, every pound of the hammer, so that not a single ounce of suffering would be spared in His offering.

One guard leaned in, eyes full of cruelty. “This just keeps getting better,” he smirked.

The hammer fell.

One! Jesus winced. His spirit reached back to the Garden, Eden, where Adam and Eve first encountered sin’s poison.

Two! The scent of Abel’s blood floated through the wind. Jesus clenched His jaw.

Three! The flood, the drowned, the ache of lost humanity. Oh, for a drop of water to quench His panting soul.

Four! Abraham, Isaac, a knife held trembling over a son, aforeshadowing of this moment. A mirror now fulfilled.

Five! Sodom, Gomorrah, Lot’s grief and his wife’s backward glance. The stench of wickedness filled His lungs, and He wept bitterly.

Six! A torrent of names and moments crashed over Him… Jacob, Tamar, Moses, Rahab, Naomi, Ruth, Boaz, David, Solomon… the exiles, the prophets silenced by time. The scream ripped through His throat, raw and unfiltered. The scapegoat cried out under the weight of humanity’s collapse.

Another soldier stood watching. Perplexed. “Why is he so quiet?” he wondered. “They usually curse us by now.”

The first soldier turned. “What? Think I’ll have all the fun?”

“Ha! Not a chance!” The second replied.

“Catch,” the first barked, tossing the hammer. “You take the left.”

Jesus stared at the nail already lodged in His right wrist. His blood stained the wood beneath it. Still, He lingered, desperate to etch every face into His memory. Those who had hoped. Those who had believed. Those who had waited in faith for His coming.

As His left arm was stretched, the pain tugged against the wound already made. His head turned. His eyes locked with the soldier’s. Concern flickered there, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Why does he watch me?” the soldier wondered. “Why isn’t he turning away?”

Jesus inhaled sharply, allowing His mind to descend deeper into the ache, beyond flesh and nerve endings, into the very heart of His suffering.

The hammer rose again.

One! Saul, soon to be Paul. Titus and the flames that would destroy the temple. The many who would follow the Way and face persecution and death for it.  

Two! The Crusades. The blood of the innocent, forgotten by history but remembered by Him.

Three! Plagues and famines. The greed of humanity. Genocide. The dark waves of disease and poverty.

Four! The auctioning of brown and black bodies. The rape of children and women. The silence that followed. The generations of cries that didn’t.

Five! Starvation. Mass executions. Child labour. Witch hunts. Cannibalism. Evil dressed in tradition.

Six! Paedophiles in robes. The systematic attack on the family unit. Segregation, oppression and abuse of power behind pulpits.

Jesus couldn’t hold back. Intensely bitter cries were heard by the many witnesses. Not just of pain but of fury. Not against man, but against the weight of it all. His body slumped, and his shaking head tilted back to rest against the timber. He mumbled silently as tears carved paths through blood and dust.

The second soldier stared, transfixed. Jesus’ face had been beaten beyond recognition. The bruising, blood, dirt and tears were breathtaking in a haunting way.

The first soldier shoved him. “What’s wrong with you? Help me!” But the second soldier barely heard him. He strained to catch the whispers coming from Jesus’ trembling lips.

The first soldier cursed again, then roughly grabbed Jesus’ legs, yanking them into place. Jesus could feel the restless emotion in his hands, and with that, the present flooded Jesus’ senses… The all too familiar scents of dirt, sweat, and blood reminded Him of the temple sacrifices.

“Are you going to help me or not?!” the first soldier bellowed. Snapped from his trance, the second knelt beside him to hold Jesus’ legs in place.

The final act began.

One! Judas, dear Judas. Betrayal with a kiss.

Two! Peter, Andrew, James, Philip, Thomas… all the brothers who ran when it mattered most.

Three! The priests. The scribes. The ones who should have known better.

Four! The mockers. Barabbas. The thieves beside Him, broken men sharing His fate.

Five! Pilate. Pilate’s wife. Everyone who felt conviction but chose convenience.

Six! The soldiers. These very ones. Rome and the powers that be.

The cross was lifted, dragging his body with it. They offered Him wine, numbing and bitter. He refused. He didn’t come to silence the pain. He came to bear it, every last breath of it. Not to prove strength, but to prove love.

Time passed. The sky grew dark, silence filled the earth, and the Lamb who could have called down angels said with passion, instead:

“It is finished.”

He breathed His last, and the world would never be the same.

For the death that He died, He died to sin, ending its power and paying the sinner’s debt, once and for all; and the life that He lives, He lives to glorify God in unbroken fellowship with Him. ~ Romans 6:10 (AMP)

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below, indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. ~ Romans 8:38-39 (NLT)

There’s something about this time of year that stills me. Easter doesn’t just mark a moment in time, it marks all of them. As the days stretch to our annual remembrance of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus, I find my thoughts doing the same… stretching. They stretch backwards into the pain and promises of the past, forward into the uncertainty of what’s still ahead, and then they settle in the now, right here, in the tension of today. This year, it’s hitting a little different as I realise that Easter was always about time. From Eden’s first heartbreak to the last breath of Christ, God was setting a timeline, the most epic rescue mission of all time. Jesus didn’t die for a moment. He died for every moment. For time past, time present, and time to come. He died once and for all so that you could live once and for all, truly free.

This is the season we pause to remember that the cross wasn’t just a sacrifice. It was a settlement. A permanent solution and the final word against sin, death and the grave. As you meditate on that truth this Easter, my prayer is that the weight of time, the shame of your past, the pain of your present, and the fear of your future would begin to loosen its grip. That you would settle it deep within your heart: Jesus finished the work. It truly is finished, and because of that, you can live securely. You can live free. Let me remind you of what His finished work truly means:

The past has no power over you.

Not your mistakes, not the things done to you, not even the generational sins that tried to make a home in your bloodline. When Jesus died, He broke every legal claim sin had over your life. That includes your sin and the sins of those who came before you. The shame, the cycles, the curses, the consequences, they all bow to the blood of Jesus. What once held power now has none. You are no longer a prisoner of what was. Through salvation, you’ve been written into a new story, a beautiful story sealed with mercy and dripping in grace.

Your present cannot separate you.

Even now, whatever mess you’re in, whatever questions you have, whatever disappointments weigh on your chest, God has not turned His face away. Romans 8 says it loud and clear: “Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love?… I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.” Not your failure. Not your insecurity. Not your sin. Not your silence. Not even your doubts. You are loved as you are. Not just when you’re winning, not just when you’re strong, but now. In the chaos, in the quiet and the ache, nothing separates you.

The future cannot deter you.

Fear loves to live in tomorrow. It whispers worst-case scenarios and tries to shake your confidence, but Jesus didn’t die just for what has happened; He died for what will happen. The missteps you haven’t taken yet, the heartbreaks you haven’t seen coming, the failures, the trials, the battles… none of them catch Him off guard. His love is already there. In every unknown corner of your life, God’s sufficient grace has already made camp. You are not alone, and you will not be overcome.

So, as we stand here, between the memory of the cross and the promise of eternity, may we remember this: When Jesus looked past the agony of the cross, He saw you. You were the joy set before Him. You were the reason He endured and the reason He stayed on that cross. You, along with countless sons and daughters across the ages, are the joy He chose to die for. And because of that, because of Him, absolutely nothing can separate you from His love. Don’t let shame, fear, or regret lie to you. Don’t walk around as though He didn’t win. Don’t live like the story is still unfinished. It is finished. You are loved. You are free. Time has no hold on you. Because He holds you, yesterday, today, and forever.