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Rev. Anthony Cecil, Jr. Isaiah 52: 13-53: 12 Hebrews 4: 14-16, 5: 7-9 John 18: 1-19: 42

Good Friday Louisville KY, USA April 10, 2010 I…thirst. I thirst. There is something about this, though, that is—different. They gave me a drink—a sponge soaked in wine—but the thirst did not leave. This thirst is so deep. It’s all I can think of. It’s all I can focus on, even more than the humiliation. It’s all I can feel, even more than the pain of the thorns and nails. I thirst. I wish I could tell them. I wish my weak and weary, beaten and bloodied body had the strength—the strength to cry out to all of them. To cry out to all of them standing below. To cry out to all of them who put me here. To cry out to all of them in this city. To cry out to all of them throughout all history: That I THIRST! My thirst is not for water. I don’t want another drink of wine. No, my thirst is—for them. Do they know this? How deeply I thirst for them? If only I could tell them. If only I could tell them how much I care. If only I could tell them how deeply I love them. If only they knew… Do they know that I am there? 2

That I am there waiting for them whenever they call? That I am there—loving them when they refuse to love themselves. That I am there—with them in their loneliness. That I am there—comforting them in their sorrow. That I am there— shouting my love and mercy above the noise of their sin. That I am there—in my body and my blood always and forever and will never leave. Oh, how much I thirst. How deeply I thirst. How much I thirst for them----know how much I thirst to love them, and for them to love me. How much I thirst for each and every soul—how much I thirst for them to know that I would do this—that I would be nailed to this tree—that I would die, even if it were only for one—even if it was only for them. I thirst even when they forget me. I thirst even when they turn away from me. I thirst even when they reject me. I thirst for them—just as they are—in the beauty of their existence. I thirst. I thirst. I thirst. Father, allow them to know. Allow them to know our love. Allow them to know the love of my wounds. Allow them to know the love of my blood poured out. Allow my blood to soak this earth and unleash upon it—Mercy. I thirst. Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit. It is finished.