At the Foot of the Cross: The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ
- Apr 18
- 8 min read

“Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit.” — Luke 23:46
These were the final words spoken by Jesus before He bowed His head and died.
The last words of a dying man are never trivial — and when that Man is the Son of God, each word carries eternal weight. These are not random cries from a cross. They are revelations — from the heart of Christ, poured out in agony, love, mercy, and triumph.
The Church calls this the Hour of Salvation. And at its centre is a Cross — raised on a hill called Golgotha, the “Place of the Skull” — believed by many early Christians and Church Fathers to be the burial site of Adam, the first man. And now, on that same ground, the New Adam dies, bringing life where death once reigned.
The New Adam Dies Where the Old One Fell
There is a sacred tradition passed down from the early Church Fathers that the hill of Calvary, Golgotha — the “place of the skull” — is not named randomly. Beneath the hill, it is believed, lay the grave of Adam, the first man.
Whether historically verified or not, the theological richness of this tradition is profound.
Adam, created by God from the dust of the earth, was the father of all mankind. Through him, sin and death entered the world:
“Through one man, sin entered the world, and through sin, death…” (Romans 5:12)
But now, at the summit of history, another Man hangs on a tree — Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, whom Saint Paul calls the “New Adam”.
“The first man, Adam, became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit.” (1 Corinthians 15:45)
And here, on this very ground, the blood of the New Adam flows downward.
It drips from His pierced side, from His thorn-crowned head, from the scourging He received — soaking the earth, seeping into the cracks of the rock… until it reaches the bones of Adam beneath.
Life touches death.
The blood of Christ touches man.
God’s mercy touches the origin of sin.
The early Christians saw in this a stunning image of redemption:
Humanity is not just redeemed in theory — it is cleansed at its root. And the sin of the first man is undone by the obedience of the Son of God.
And what is blood, if not life?
“The life of the creature is in the blood…” (Leviticus 17:11)
So when the Blood of Jesus touches Adam’s grave, it is as though all mankind is touched. We who were dead in sin are now given life in Him.
In the Crucifixion, the past is not ignored — it is healed.
What was broken by Adam is restored by Christ.
What was lost in Eden is reclaimed at Calvary.
This is why the Cross stands not only as a place of death, but as the Tree of Life, planted in the soil of our human story — and bearing fruit that never perishes.
The Seven Last Words of Jesus
Each of the Seven Last Words is a window into the divine heart of Jesus — showing us who He is, what He values, and how we are to live.
Let us linger at the foot of the Cross, and listen carefully.
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34)
The first words spoken by Jesus from the Cross are not cries of pain or protest. They are a prayer — a plea for mercy. As He hangs in agony, bloodied and abandoned, Jesus does not condemn. Instead, He looks upon those who have betrayed, tortured, and crucified Him, and intercedes on their behalf: “Father, forgive them.” It is a love beyond human comprehension — God’s mercy extended in the very moment of humanity's worst cruelty.
Here, at the height of His suffering, Jesus reveals the depth of God’s heart. This is love that forgives before it is asked. Love that sees ignorance and responds with grace. Love that refuses to return evil for evil. Even in our sins, our blindness, and our repeated failures, this mercy is poured out upon us — unearned, undeserved, and unrelenting. The Cross is not just the scene of forgiveness; it is its very source.
“Truly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:43)
Next to Jesus hangs a criminal — a man with a past, marked by failure and sin. And yet, in his final moments, he turns his face toward the crucified Christ and dares to ask for mercy. With one breath of faith, he reaches beyond shame and pain to make a simple request: “Remember me.” Jesus does not hesitate. He does not offer a lecture or a list of conditions. He opens Heaven.
The Good Thief, known to us as Saint Dismas, is promised Paradise by Jesus Christ Himself — a powerful sign that even in one’s final hour, sincere repentance is met with God's mercy. His story proclaims the heart of the Gospel: that it is never too late to turn back to God. This is grace — immediate, overflowing, and completely undeserved. In the darkest hour, hope still breaks through, and mercy still triumphs.
“Woman, behold your son… Behold your mother.” (John 19:26–27)
In the midst of His agony, Jesus looks down from the Cross and sees His Mother and the beloved disciple standing near. He does not leave them alone. With tender authority, He entrusts them to each other: “Woman, behold your son… Behold your mother.” But this moment is far more than a personal gesture — it is a revelation. Jesus is establishing a new spiritual family, born not of flesh, but of faith. And in doing so, He entrusts all His beloved disciples — not just John — to the care of His Mother. The beloved disciple becomes a symbol of every follower of Christ, and Mary becomes our Mother too.
Mary is not a passive figure at the foot of the Cross. She stands — strong, silent, and suffering — fully participating in her Son’s Passion. Just as Eve was called “the mother of all the living,” Mary is now revealed as the Mother of all who live in Christ. The new creation, brought forth through His Blood, is not complete without her maternal presence. God chose to enter the world through a woman and a mother — and now, from the Cross, in this new creation, He calls us to return to Him through a woman and a mother.
“Standing by the Cross…” (John 19:25) — that is where we find her. Faithful to the end. She never left Jesus, and she will never leave us. In our pain, in our confusion, in our walk of discipleship, she stands beside us. And she will always leads us closer to her Son.
“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46)
This cry from the Cross pierces the heavens and the hearts of all who hear it. It is not a cry of despair, but the opening line of Psalm 22 — a deeply prophetic psalm that begins in anguish and ends in triumph. In invoking this Scripture, Jesus is not expressing hopelessness, but entering fully into the human experience of suffering, including the terrifying sense of abandonment. He is praying with the words of generations before Him, taking upon Himself the spiritual agony of all humanity.
Even in this desolation, Jesus is proclaiming something profound: "this is not the end." Psalm 22 moves from suffering to vindication, from isolation to glory. By quoting it, Jesus reveals that even in pain, God is present. Even in silence, He is at work. This is the mystery of redemptive suffering — that even in the darkest hour, God is still fulfilling His promise.
“I thirst.” (John 19:28)
At first glance, these two words may seem to express only physical suffering. But they carry a depth far beyond the bodily agony of the Cross. In this cry, Jesus reveals His longing — not just for water, but for hearts. It is the thirst of divine love poured out, yearning for souls to return. It is the thirst of the Bridegroom for His bride, the Creator for His children, the Saviour for the lost, a love longing for the beloved.
Jesus thirsts for you. Not as an abstract idea, but personally and intimately. He thirsts for your love, your presence, your response. Even in His final moments, He reaches out — desiring not what He lacks, but what He longs to give. In those two words, we are invited to encounter the burning desire of God for humanity, and to offer Him the gift of our hearts in return.
“It is finished.” (John 19:30)
The words spoken by Jesus in His final moments are not words of surrender, but of triumph. In Greek, the word is tetelestai — a term that means “paid in full.” This is the language of completion, of a debt satisfied, of a work fully accomplished. Jesus is not expressing defeat; He is proclaiming the fulfilment of His mission. Every prophecy, every promise, every part of the divine plan has reached its perfect end in this moment.
The mission is complete. The price of sin has been paid in full — not with silver or gold, but with the precious Blood of the Lamb. Jesus paid for our lives with His own, ransoming us from the bondage of sin and breaking the chains of slavery to the devil. He has redeemed us not merely from guilt, but from the power of darkness itself. The new and eternal covenant — one written not on stone but in His own Body and Blood — is sealed, and through the Cross, we are invited into the freedom of the children of God.
“Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit.” (Luke 23:46)
With His final breath, Jesus entrusts Himself entirely to the Father. These are not just words of resignation — they are a profound act of filial trust and perfect obedience. In quoting Psalm 31:6, “Into Your hands I commit my spirit; You have redeemed me, Lord, God of truth,” Jesus reveals that His death is not defeat, but the culmination of the Father’s redemptive plan. This is not a cry of despair — it is the declaration of the Redeemer, fulfilling the Scriptures and accomplishing the salvation of the world.
At this very moment, the eternal Son places His life — freely given — into the Father’s hands as a perfect offering for the redemption of mankind. The Lamb without blemish is sacrificed, and through His surrender, the power of sin and death is broken. In saying these words, Jesus is not only trusting in the Father’s love, He is also securing our hope. He breathes His last not as a victim of circumstance, but as the Victor who has ransomed humanity by His Blood. This final act of trust becomes the doorway through which grace floods the world.
At the Foot of the Cross
Do you know your worth?
You, who feel broken, sinful, unseen — you were not forgotten on that Cross. Jesus saw you from Calvary. He knew every wound, every failure, every struggle, every pain, and still He chose to die for you. He did not wait for you to be perfect, to have it all together, to deserve His love. No. "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). That was the price Heaven paid — not in silver or gold, but in Jesus' own Body and Blood — for you. Because to God, you are worth that much. More than anything in this world. More than every treasure under heaven. You are loved to the point of death — even death on a Cross.
So how will you respond? Will you let the noise of the world drown out the voice that calls you beloved? Will you turn away from the One who gave everything just to have your heart and soul? Or will you come — just as you are, weary and wounded — and kneel at the foot of the Cross, where mercy still flows — and there, repent, truly convert, and begin to love Him back with your life? Jesus died to prove that you are not a mistake, not a lost cause, not too far gone. You are worth the life of God Himself. Look at the Cross. Hear His final words. And know this: you are loved beyond measure. Now and forever.
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