“How Can This Be Good?”

Luke 23

How can this be good?

Being falsely accused in front of a crowd.

Being misunderstood.

Being treated with contempt and regarded as worthless, mocked, and scorned.

Being beaten.

Being stripped.

Being spit on.

A crowd that once cheered for you suddenly turning against you.

A murderer, Barabbas, chosen instead of you.

Not guilty…but crucified anyway.

Take just one of those.

Would you call it good?

If the person you believed would rescue you was arrested, humiliated, and executed. Would that feel like hope?

If the hero in your favorite story ended hanging on a cross, seemingly powerless and mocked, would that be a victory?

Hope would feel lost.

And yet Christians all over the world call this day Good Friday.

Why?

How can something this brutal be called love?

Why couldn’t God just forgive without blood, without violence, without a cross?

Those are fair questions…especially if you’re skeptical.

Let’s start here:

What happens if evil goes unpunished?

When a child is abused, do we want a judge who shrugs?

When betrayal wrecks a family, do we want it ignored?

When injustice devastates lives, do we want it dismissed?

No.

We crave justice.

We want wrongs made right.

We want corruption confronted.

We want evil dealt with.

That instinct comes from somewhere.

Scripture tells us God is holy and just. Holiness means He is morally perfect. Justice means He does not ignore wrongdoing.

If God simply overlooked sin, He would not be good.

But here’s the tension: If God deals with sin justly…that includes ours.

The Bible says, “The wages of sin is death.” Sin isn’t just big, headline-grabbing evil. It’s anything we think, say, or do that falls short of God’s goodness.

We all know that list isn’t empty.

If God is just, sin must be dealt with.

And forgiveness always costs someone something.

If someone wrecks your car and you forgive them, you absorb the cost.

If someone betrays you and you choose reconciliation, you absorb the pain.

Forgiveness is never free.

So the question becomes: Who absorbs the cost of humanity’s sin?

In the Old Testament, sin required sacrifice. Not because God loved blood but because sin is serious. It destroys relationships. It separates us from a holy God.

From the very beginning, when Adam and Eve sinned, something had to die. A covering was provided. And throughout Israel’s history, sacrifices pointed forward to something greater…a once-for-all payment.

That’s what the cross is.

The cross is not God demanding payment from someone else.

It is God paying it Himself.

Jesus is not a third party caught in divine anger.

He is God in the flesh, willingly stepping into our place.

On the cross, God does not unleash violence on humanity.

He absorbs humanity’s violence.

He takes the mockery.

The humiliation.

The nails.

The scorn.

The abandonment.

Luke 23 shows us the depth of it:

Jesus is mocked by soldiers. Scoffed at by rulers. Crucified between criminals. The sign above His head reads “King of the Jews,” a title meant to humiliate.

And yet He prays, “Father, forgive them.”

This is not cruelty.

This is rescue.

Yes, the cross is violent.

Sin is violent.

Sin destroys trust. Bodies. Marriages. Nations. Souls.

The cross shows us what sin actually costs.

But it also shows us what love is willing to pay.

If you’ve ever wondered, “Does God love me?” Look at the cross.

John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son.”

He didn’t give because we cleaned ourselves up.

He gave while we were still sinners.

The cross is justice and mercy colliding.

Justice because sin is dealt with.

Mercy because we don’t bear the penalty.

Jesus does.

When He says, “It is finished,” He means the debt is paid in full.

No more sacrifices.

No more trying to earn forgiveness.

No more wondering if you’ve done enough.

If you trust Him, you are made clean.

White as snow.

That’s why it’s good.

It’s good because shame no longer has the final word.

It’s good because guilt no longer defines you.

It’s good because access to God is opened.

It’s good because justice is satisfied and love is proven.

It’s good because what should have fallen on us…fell on Him.

Does the cross make you uncomfortable?

It should.

It confronts us with the seriousness of sin.

But that discomfort is what makes the comfort possible.

Because without the cross, we would still be paying.

Still striving.

Still sacrificing.

Still wondering if we were enough.

Good Friday is good because God did not ignore sin.

He defeated it.

Good Friday is good because God did not leave us in guilt.

He absorbed it.

Good Friday is good because love did not stay distant.

It entered suffering.

It took nails.

It bled.

And it rose again.

So how can something this brutal be called good?

Because it was not the end.

Because it was not pointless.

Because it was not cruelty.

It was love…costly, public, undeniable love.

And it is an invitation.

Not to perform.

Not to fix yourself first.

But to trust.

To receive.

To rest in what has already been paid.

That is why Friday is good.

Because the cross is not just an execution.

It is our rescue.

And that is very good news.

QUESTIONS

1.     When you think about the cross, what unsettles you most? Is it the violence? The idea of judgment? The need for sacrifice? Why do you think that is?

2.     Do you want a God who ignores injustice or one who deals with it? How does your answer shape the way you view the cross?

3.     What do you do with your guilt? Do you try to outwork it, minimize it, hide it or have you trusted that it was fully paid for?

4.     If the cross really was God absorbing the cost of your sin, how would that change the way you see His love? Would you still see the cross as cruel or as rescue?