Richard John Neuhaus, the Catholic theologian, once wrote that “On a certain Friday afternoon it could truly be said ‘God is dead,’ and there is no catastrophe beyond the death of God.”  In reading John 19, we watch as the greatest catastrophe in all of history unfolds before our very eyes.  We look on as the Foundation was hung on a piece of wood.  We stand with the crowds as life slowly escaped from Life himself.  We listen as the eternal Breath breathed his last.   We watch God die.

And yet what’s fascinating about the account is that the Apostle John seems strangely preoccupied with ceremonial details, doesn’t he?  He dedicates half a verse (the end of v.30) to describe the death of Christ, and then he spends seven verses to make sure that we are crystal clear that Christ’s legs were not broken and that instead he was pierced through with a spear.  It almost reads like a friend who, having been asked to give a eulogy, instead reassures the congregation that the deceased medical records were all in order.  And we say “Well, that’s strange.  How bizarre!”

But the Apostle John is up to something here.  For he doesn’t just want to show us that Christ died, nor is he particularly interested in how Christ died.  John, instead, is intensely concerned with showing us why Christ died.  And to do that, he takes our attention away from the utter spectacle of Christ’s death.  He takes us, just for a moment, away from the foot of the cross and takes us back in time to the feet of the prophet Zechariah.

And in his prophecy, Zechariah tells of a day that is coming when God will pour out a spirit of grace and mercy upon his people.  And Yahweh, the God of Israel, tells his prophet Zechariah, here is how you will know that day is upon you.  You will know that the decisive day of grace has come by this: “They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn.”  Do you see why the Apostle takes us here, to this prophecy?  He is telling us that this Jesus that we have pierced through is none other than Yahweh himself, the Blessed One of Israel.   And Zechariah tells us that when we realize what we have done, we will look with horror at the blood on our hands and we will mourn and weep bitterly.  And yet in that very moment when we cry our “What have we done?!”, Zechariah tells us that that will also be the moment when “a fountain will be opened to the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity.” The moment of our most condemnable crime will astonishingly also be the moment of our great redemption.

You see, John is trying to capture a heart-wrenching irony here in his 19th chapter.  He tells us that Jesus’ legs were not broken because the bones of the Passover Lamb must remain in tact if he is to be the Passover Lamb.  But then he tells us that this Lamb was pierced through by human hands … and with that damnable deed, we unknowingly punctured the fountain of life himself and what poured forth was the blood and the water that would become our salvation.

This is the astounding mystery and wisdom and glory of our God’s plan to have us back as his own.  It defies all human logic.  It staggers all human comprehension.  It is a redemption that draws in our culpability and our sin and uses it to show forth a greater glory in the midst of a terrible and terrifying humiliation.  It is a redemption so stunning, so breathtaking, that all that we can do is to utter to ourselves: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.”  May we look upon him, the one we have pierced, and rejoice with a bittersweet joy.