Waiting in the Dark

Thank you for reading this sermon from Christ Fellowship. I hope and pray that this sermon will be a blessing of grace and truth to you. With that said, let me encourage you not to use this sermon as a replacement for your local church. Christ Jesus did not establish his Church simply for us to consume content. Instead, He calls us to be part of a real, covenant family. 

In God’s good providence, we have come this morning to the end of Luke 23. We’re going to read about the death of Jesus.

There’s a lot happening in this text. It moves quickly through some very important details. And if you were hoping for a Mother’s Day themed sermon, there is one important detail in the story that I will draw our attention to.

Let’s begin reading in verse 44.

44 It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour,

45 while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.

During what should have been the brightest part of the day – noon to 3pm – the sky darkens. This was a real, supernatural event. Darkness in the Old Testament symbolizes the judgment of God, which is now falling on Jesus in our place.

This was not an eclipse, because Passover happens during a full moon. Luke specifically says, “the sun’s light failed”. It’s as if creation is collapsing on itself.

But in the middle of judgment, something amazing happens. The curtain of the temple was torn in two. This would be the curtain separating the Most Holy place from the rest of the temple. The other Gospels tell is it tore from top to bottom, indicating that God tore it.

What does that mean? It means that the way into God’s presence is now open, not through rituals, but through Christ’s death. This is the final sacrifice by the One true high priest.

46 Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last.

I think it is very significant that Jesus died in this way. This is not a weak man giving up the fight or losing control. This is a moment of strength and clear intention. Jesus willingly decides to die in this moment.

His words are a direct quote from Psalm 31:5, which was often used as a bedtime prayer by the Jews. Even in death, Jesus trusts His Father.

47 Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!”
This is probably my favorite verse in Luke 23. This man is a Roman executioner. He’s seen many people die on crosses, but he’s never seen anyone die like this.

It’s important to see what’s happening here in context. Luke wrote this gospel primarily to reach the Gentiles. And immediately after the final breath of Jesus and the tearing of the temple curtain, what does Luke show us? A Gentile converts and starts worshipping God.

Immediate! No sermon… No Bible study… No altar call… God just opens the man’s eyes and changes his heart, right there on the spot. He doesn’t even know what he is witnessing, but he knows it is important, and it has something to do with God.

48 And all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts.

This is a different reaction. These are the people came to watch the show. They leave feeling grief, possibly even some conviction. Luke doesn’t tell us. But this is how I think a lot of people respond to the cross.

It’s an emotionally moving scene. You may consider it to be a riveting story. You may even feel some conviction. But you won’t necessarily walk away changed by it, or worshipping God like the Roman soldier.

You might start asking the question, how are you responding to the cross?

49 And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things.

These are the disciples, but I want you to notice that Luke specifically mentions the women. He didn’t need to… He could have just said “all his acquaintances” which included the women. But Luke wants us to notice the women.

And it’s not the first time he does this. Back in verse 27, Luke mentions the women among those who were mourning and then Jesus specifically addresses the women in verse 28 calling them “daughters of Jerusalem.”

Luke is doing this for a reason, but it won’t be clear until the end of our text. Let’s keep reading.

50 Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man,

51 who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God.

Joseph was a member of the Sanhedrin, but he had not voted to condemn Jesus.

52 This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.

This was a bold and risky move for a man in his position. Romans typically left crucified bodies unburied as a warning to the people.

Joseph’s actions show us that God still has a remnant among the Jews. Luke showed us a Gentile convert and now he shows us a Jewish convert.

53 Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid.

This is respect and honor being shown by Joseph at great cost to himself.

54 It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.

This is Friday evening, just before sunset.

55 The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid.

56 Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.

This is the end of the chapter and who does Luke want us to see? The women. These women are the last witnesses of Jesus’ burial, and they will be the first witnesses of His resurrection. Everyone else was gone.

This scene is empty except for the dead body of Jesus and a few faithful women, observing and preparing a proper burial for Jesus. God is honoring these women by focusing our attention on them at such an important moment.

Everyone else has withdrawn in despair, but these women are quietly faithful. They may not have understood why this was happening, but they stayed. They watched. They waited.

And I love it. I love that Luke does this. I love that God honors these women. They were the last ones to see Jesus dead and the first to see Him alive again. God uses their quiet faithfulness as a bridge to the resurrection story and their personal testimony is central to the historical record.

Even their keeping of the Sabbath is worth recognizing. It demonstrates faithful obedience to God even in grief or confusion. They don’t understand, but they keep going.

It’s also not a passive obedience. They are actively waiting. They were prepared and they were the first ones to the tomb on Sunday because they were ready. As it turns out, I think this makes for a pretty good mother’s day sermon.

What are we to learn from this? I think the most obvious thing we learn is that we are supposed to trust God’s plan even when things seem to be completely falling apart.

It has been almost two years since pastor Tim Keller died after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. Tim was easily the most well-known pastor in our denomination. We have several of his books on our book table.

Keller shared openly that his cancer diagnosis had deepened his walk with God. In several interviews, he said that he and his wife Kathy had “never enjoyed God more” than during that season of suffering. He didn’t hide the pain—instead he testified that God was drawing him closer through it.

And I love this quote. He said: “You don’t realize Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have.”

Even when his body was failing, Keller saw that God’s plan was still unfolding… even in suffering. Even knowing that death was coming.

Likewise, the cross must have seemed like chaos and failure to the disciples, but it wasn’t. God was still doing something they couldn’t see. And we need to know that is always true. God is always doing things we can’t see. The lesson is to trust Him. And in strange and mysterious ways, followers of Jesus find peace and joy in the midst of suffering.

Second, I think God is honoring small acts of faithfulness in this story. The centurion worshipping… Joseph asking for the body… the women watching and preparing for the burial… none of these actions are big, loud, or impressive. It’s all behind the scenes stuff, but it matters.

I especially want to say to the women of our church – what you do matters. The quiet work you are doing, often behind the scenes, because you love the Lord and because you love your church and your family… it matters. It is precious to God. He sees and values your work. Thank you!

Finally, I don’t want any of us to rush past Saturday in the story to get to Sunday. The original disciples had to sit with the cross for a whole day. And during that day, God was silent. No explanation. No anything.

In that moment, I’m sure it would have been easy for the disciples to mistake God’s silence for absence. Where is God in this? Why is this happening? What are we supposed to do now?

I’ll never forget standing at the ICU window watching my friend Michael Ford struggle to breath a few days before Covid took his life. So many people died alone that year, with no one at their bedside because of quarantine.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t hold hands. The best you could do was watch and wait from behind the glass. And in that situation, a few feet felt like a thousand miles.

I imagine that’s how the disciples felt. In the silence of Holy Saturday, I’m sure God felt so far away.

But God was not absent. In fact, theologically speaking, God was closer than He had ever been. The body of Jesus had to stay dead long enough for people to believe He really died. But His death had already accomplished more than anyone realized. The tearing of the temple curtain was proof… God was closer now than He had ever been.

And that’s the hope we cling to in our worst days—when prayers seem unanswered, and the world feels dark. Because of the cross, we don’t measure God’s nearness by our emotions or our circumstances.

We measure it by His promises. Because of Jesus we can commit our spirit into the hands of a loving and merciful God.