Good Friday Sermon: "The Cost of Love"
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**Opening Prayer:**
Heavenly Father, we gather today at the foot of the Cross, where Your boundless love collided with the unthinkable brutality of human sin. Open our hearts and minds to the depth of Your sacrifice and the weight of this moment. May we leave here transformed, humbled, and filled with awe at the price You paid for us. In Jesus' name, Amen.
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**Introduction:**
Today, we strip away the illusions, the comforts, and the distractions. Today, we come face-to-face with the unvarnished truth of what it took to redeem us. Good Friday isn’t pretty. It’s not sanitized for your comfort. It’s raw. It’s brutal. It’s horrifying. But it’s also the most powerful display of love this world has ever seen.
Some of you came here tonight to check a box, to follow tradition. Let me tell you: if you’re here for anything less than to confront the unfiltered reality of God’s love, you’re in the wrong place. This is not a story you sit through passively. This is not a night for faint hearts. Tonight, we face the Cross.
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**The Cost of Betrayal:**
Let’s start in the garden—Gethsemane. Picture it: Jesus, the Son of God, kneeling in the dirt. The weight of the world’s sin is pressing down on Him so heavily that His sweat becomes drops of blood. Scientists call it hematidrosis, a rare condition caused by extreme stress. This wasn’t a poetic metaphor; it was His body literally breaking under the strain of knowing what lay ahead.
Judas Iscariot, one of His closest friends, approaches under the cover of night. With a kiss—a sign of intimacy—he betrays the Savior. Thirty pieces of silver. In today’s money, that’s maybe $200. That’s all it took for Judas to sell out the King of Kings.
And before you condemn him, take a hard look in the mirror. How many of us have betrayed Jesus for even less? A fleeting moment of pleasure. A chance to fit in. The comfort of staying silent when we should speak up. Judas’s betrayal isn’t just a story; it’s a reflection of our own hearts.
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**The Mockery of Justice:**
From Gethsemane, Jesus is dragged to a sham of a trial. False witnesses twist His words. The religious leaders—the very people who should have recognized Him as the Messiah—condemn Him out of jealousy and fear. Pilate, a man who knows Jesus is innocent, washes his hands and condemns Him anyway. Why? To appease the crowd.
The crowd. Days earlier, they shouted, “Hosanna!” But now their cries have turned to, “Crucify Him!” How easily we are swayed. How quickly we turn on the very One who offers us salvation.
Do you see yourself in the crowd? When have you gone along with the majority, even when you knew it was wrong? When have you chosen comfort over conviction, popularity over truth? Let’s be honest: we’re not just spectators in this story; we’re participants.
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**The Pain of the Cross:**
Let’s not sugarcoat this. The road to the Cross was paved with unimaginable suffering. After the trial, Jesus was flogged. This wasn’t a slap on the wrist; it was a Roman scourging. Leather whips embedded with metal and bone tore into His flesh, ripping it apart. By the time they were done, His back was a bloody, shredded mess. Some victims didn’t even survive the flogging.
A crown of thorns was pressed into His scalp. Not gently placed—pressed. The thorns pierced His skin, sending rivulets of blood down His face. They mocked Him, spitting on Him, slapping Him, jeering, “Hail, King of the Jews!”
Then came the Cross. He was forced to carry it through the streets of Jerusalem, stumbling under its weight. Imagine the wood digging into His torn flesh with every step. By the time He reached Golgotha, He was barely recognizable.
And then they nailed Him to the Cross. Nails, likely the size of railroad spikes, driven through His wrists and feet. The pain was beyond comprehension. Hanging there, His body weight pulled against the nails, tearing the flesh even more. Every breath was a battle, as He had to push up on the nails in His feet just to inhale.
This is what love looks like. Love isn’t clean or convenient. It’s messy. It’s sacrificial. It bleeds. And Jesus did this for you.
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**The Triumph of Love:**
As He hung there, gasping for air, Jesus cried out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” In that moment, He bore the full weight of every sin ever committed. The lies, the hatred, the betrayal, the violence—all of it was heaped onto Him. The Lamb of God was abandoned by the Father so that we would never have to be.
And yet, even in His agony, He forgave. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Think about that. While the very people who nailed Him to the Cross mocked Him, He prayed for their forgiveness. What kind of love is this?
When He finally declared, “It is finished,” it wasn’t a cry of defeat. It was a shout of victory. The debt was paid. The enemy was defeated. The veil in the temple was torn, opening the way for us to be reconciled with God.
But don’t rush to Easter morning just yet. Sit in the weight of Good Friday. Let it sink in. Let it wreck you. Let it change you.
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**Conclusion:**
So what do we do with this? How do we respond to a love so fierce, so relentless, so costly?
We repent. We worship. We surrender. But what does that look like in your life? It’s not just about attending church or saying the right words. It’s about a complete transformation of how you live, think, and love.
Maybe it means forgiving someone who has deeply hurt you—even when they don’t deserve it. Maybe it’s when it costs you friendships, respect, or opportunities. Maybe it’s sacrificing your time, money, or energy to serve the broken, the forgotten, the unloved.
Imagine a woman who forgives the drunk driver who killed her child. Imagine a man who leaves a lucrative career because he feels called to serve the homeless. Imagine a teenager who refuses to bully, even when standing up means becoming a target themselves. That’s what living in the shadow of the Cross looks like. It’s gritty. It’s hard. It’s costly.
It means choosing love when hatred feels easier. It means picking up your own cross daily and following Jesus, even when the road is steep and the weight is crushing. Because that’s what He did for you.
This isn’t easy. For most of us, it will be the hardest thing we ever do. But it’s worth it. Because the Cross changes everything. It turns cowards into heroes, enemies into friends, and sinners into saints. It turns death into life.
Tonight, let the weight of the Cross propel you into action. Don’t just hear this message—live it. Love fiercely. Forgive relentlessly. Sacrifice boldly. Because tonight, we remember: It wasn’t the nails that held Jesus to the Cross—it was love. Love for you. Love for me. Love that changes everything.
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**Closing Prayer:**
Lord Jesus, we are undone by Your love. Forgive us for the ways we have taken Your sacrifice for granted. Help us to live in the shadow of the Cross, changed and compelled to love as You have loved us. Thank You for paying the ultimate price to bring us back to You. Amen.
The Most Reverend Dr. Mark Zorn, DD. DRS
Dallas Universal Life Church
www.dallasulc.com
