We are strangers passing through this world. We have a different mindset than the world. It’s a pilgrim mindset with its destination being the city whose builder and maker is God. We have different goals. We have different passions. Everything is different because we’re following a different Leader. So we’re going to come into conflict with the powers of darkness, those invisible principalities and powers who still hold sway over this world. We’re going to come into conflict with people who are not walking in the light. The godly shall suffer persecution. That’s a given. We’re going to suffer in some way, shape, or form. Yet if we submit ourselves to God’s sovereignty and His purposes, as Peter strongly encourages us to do, we will see the revelation of Christ go beyond ourselves. The revelation of Jesus to us becomes the revelation of Jesus through us to a hostile world. Peter gives powerfully moving examples to motivate us in that direction.
Last time we looked at Christ as our example of suffering, who when reviled did not revile in return. Even though the thief on the cross reviled Jesus, God mercifully opened his eyes to behold Jesus as the King of Israel coming into His kingdom. It was his day of visitation! The day of visitation trumpeted such glorious good news! “Today you will be with Me in paradise.” So this thief on the cross exemplifies Peter’s keynote day of visitation coming to those who speak evil against us if we’ll humbly submit ourselves to God’s way of doing life as Jesus did.
When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.
1 Peter 2:23-24 ESV
A spirit of submissive obedience to the Father—”when he was reviled, he did not revile in return”—brings about grace to the reviler. They find paradise in the day that God visits them! Now I want to show you another illustration, this time zeroing in on “when he suffered, he did not threaten.” This moves beyond hurtful words to actual bodily wounds. We now shift our gaze to the centurion at the cross.
And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mark 15:37-39 ESV
What’s fascinating as you go through Mark’s gospel is that Jesus’ identity announced in the opening verse—”The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”—is kept secret from the lips of men until this centurion. Unclean spirits had proclaimed Jesus as the Son of God (3:11, 5:7), but no human did until this guy. Even Peter’s great confession in response to Jesus’ question, “Who do people say that I am?”, withholds His identity as the Son of God. “You are the Messiah” (8:29) is all Mark divulges whereas Matthew openly discloses, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:16). Mark is withholding people’s proclamation of Jesus as the Son of God until his climactic point. So in Mark’s narrative the first person to profess Jesus as the Son of God is this centurion. That’s by design. It’s purposeful.
And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last.
Some like the New King James Version (NKJV) phrase “uttered a loud cry” as “cried out with a loud voice.” This Greek word translated “uttered” or “cried out” does not literally mean either of these. It’s a weird word. The colorful Greek language has multiple words to express crying out, such as kraugē (krow-gay’)—”But at midnight there was a cry, ‘Here is the bridegroom!'” (Mt 25:6)—and boaō (bo-ah’-oh)—”the voice of one crying in the wilderness” (Mk 1:3). The most common one is krazō (krad’-zoh)—”and they that followed cried Hosanna” (Mk 11:9). There are more.
When Matthew reports this same occurrence, he states it this way: “And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit” (Mt 27:50). “Cried out” is that common word krazō. So what word does Mark use? It’s a peculiar choice, aphiēmi (af-ee’-ay-mee). It has the idea to send out, to send away, to send forth. Often it’s translated in various contexts as forgiveness or divorce. Forgiveness has the idea of sending away the sins or offenses against you, divorce the sending away of the spouse. So rather than crying out, as Matthew reported, Mark wants us to consider Jesus sending out or sending forth a loud cry. Yet in all its other uses in the New Testament, aphiēmi has nothing to do with speaking or crying out. The odd word choice here is intended to make us pause and wonder why.
In pausing to ponder this peculiar, unexpected word choice of aphiēmi, the other most common choice for send is apostellō (ap-os-tel’-loh), from which we get apostle or sent one. Although aphiēmi and apostellō are very similar in meaning, apostellō connotes a sending on behalf of another whereas aphiēmi does not. Furthermore, aphiēmi has a subtle nuance to send without an expectation of returning back. So aphiēmi is better suited than apostellō for the forgiveness of sins because it’s not just sending them away but sending them away without them returning back. So Mark settled upon aphiēmi rather than apostellō to best communicate the significance of Jesus’ last breath. Interesting! So Jesus’ final breath upon the cross was sent forth without an expectation of returning. But send it where?
The manner in which these Gospel writers commented on the meaning behind Jesus’ words and acts is dramatically different than our modern way. Their “commentary” is ingeniously woven into the fabric of their narrative using literary devices, such as the one we’re examining now. They’re often so subtle and nuanced that we pass right by them unobserved. I love what Thomas Bernard, a preacher from the 19th century, had noted about Matthew, Mark and Luke’s portraits of Jesus.
A plain report of words and deeds, easy and inartificial in the extreme, in which the most stupendous events elicit no articulate expression of feeling, without appearance of plan or system, with scarcely a comment or reflection, and in which a word of explanation almost startles us — such is the character of the three first of those writings…No literary fact is more remarkable than that men, knowing what these writers knew, and feeling what they felt, should have given us chronicles so plain and calm. They have nothing to say as from themselves. Their narratives place us without preface, and keep us without comment, among external scenes, in full view of facts, and in contact with the living person whom they teach us to know.
Thomas Delaney Bernard, A Progress of Doctrine in the New Testament
Often our reading of the Gospels like Mark seem to “keep us without comment,” but these Evangelists did have commentary, just not one we’re accustomed to. Theirs was of a literary nature, following in the footsteps of the biblical Hebrew authors that preceded them. So they, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, cleverly crafted their narrative, intertwining allusions and references back to the Old Testament stories (or even within their own narrative) as a theological lens to interpret the story of Jesus. These literary devices served as their commentary to tease out the spiritual meaning behind the “plain report of words and deeds, easy and inartificial in the extreme.”
With this in view, let’s track with Mark’s commentary on the theological import of Jesus’ final breath upon the cross. So while it’s true that Jesus did cry out, as Matthew attests, it’s also a sending forth, a commissioning if you will, of His finishing breath.
As is common with God, He can pack a lot into a little. Each tiny cell of ours contains a strand of complex DNA instructions six feet long if stretched out from end to end! Bear with me as we unpack Mark’s expression of Jesus’ final breath that illustrates Peter’s day of visitation. The rewards of our labors will be breathtaking (pun intended)!
And Jesus uttered [aphiēmi] a loud [megas] cry [phōnē] and breathed his last [ekpneō].
The phrase “breathed his last” is ekpneō (ek-pneh’-oh), a rare Greek word used only three times in our New Testament and never in the Septuagint. It literally means “to breathe out” (ek, “out,” pneō, “to breathe”), being understood as expiring or dying. It’s the main verb of this short sentence. “Uttered,” as pointed out, is aphiēmi, a participle that serves as a helping verb, adding further description to ekpneō. So this final breathing out is described as a sending forth of a cry, sound, or voice, so phōnē (foh-nay’) means. In other words, Jesus’ last breath out was a voice sent out. That’s the beauty of the participle. Mark adds the adjective megas to voice, so it’s a great (“mega”) or loud voice. This combination of megas and phōnē is where we get megaphone from. What words Jesus actually uttered is not pertinent to Mark’s point. Since John cared about it, he divulged it as “It is finished!” Mark, however, wants us to pay particularly close attention to the sending forth of that voice as breath.
What happens as Jesus sends out this breath as He dies? Mark notes two things. Jesus sends His breath in two directions. First, the veil is torn in two.
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mark 15:38-39 ESV
This breath, this voice, is first sent to the Father, who immediately responds by tearing the veil from top to bottom. We’re all familiar with the significance of this. So many of our contemporary songs of praise and worship celebrate this monumental, earth-shattering truth. That rent veil proclaims that heaven is opened and man has access once again to this holy God.
Secondly, Jesus sent this breath into the centurion! Although this Roman commander had been staring into Jesus’ face for many hours, it wasn’t until this very moment that the veil over his perception was torn so that he could recognize Jesus as the Son of God. Mark omits the rock-splitting earthquake (that Matthew includes) that coincided with Jesus’ death so as to keep us laser focused on the primary cause for the centurion’s eyes being opened. So in Mark’s narrative it wasn’t the supernaturally timed earthquake that clued this centurion in that Jesus was the Son of God. Nor was it the three supernatural hours of darkness he’d just witnessed. It all had to do with this “breath-voice” sent out.
And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last [ekpneō], he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mark 15:39 ESV
Mark’s particular language, “who stood facing him,” is translated in other Bible versions as “standing opposite from” or “standing right in front of.” It graphically depicts the centurion and Jesus being face to face. It hearkens back to Genesis where the Lord “breathed into [Adam’s] nostrils the breath of life” and he lived. The Hebrew word for “nostrils” can also be translated as face. The Creator’s breath into man’s face is what brought life. John also alludes to this Creator act of Jesus after the resurrection. “He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (Jn 20:22).
Mark connects the centurion’s aha moment to seeing Jesus breathing His last. It resumes from Jesus breathing His last two verses ago, the tearing of the temple veil inserted in-between. One commentator calls this a “Marcan sandwich.” It’s one of his literary devices that joins two events for the purpose of comparison. The center of this sandwich, the tearing of the veil, supplies the vital theological import of the centurion’s triumphant confession of Jesus as the Son of God.
Now here’s where things really get interesting. Mark has cleverly crafted this narrative at the very end of Jesus’ earthly ministry to draw from similarities at its very beginning. These parallels act as a theological lens to interpret this event.
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And when he came up out of the water, immediately he saw the heavens being torn open [schizō] and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.
Mark 1:9-10 ESV
“Torn open” is schizō (skhid’-zoh), meaning to split or to rend open. It is used in the tearing of a garment (Jn 19:24), the tearing of a net (Jn 21:11), and what Mark employs for the temple veil:
And the curtain of the temple was torn [schizō] in two, from top to bottom.
There’s a lot of history and significance behind this veil in the temple separating the holy place from the Holy of Holies where God dwelt. Among its other symbols, its blue color signified the heavens, making it the “sky veil.” Mark uses schizō only twice in his Gospel, which pairs together the tearing of the heavens, or sky, with the tearing of the sky veil. Mark is making this connection between Jesus’ baptism and this sending forth of the breath-voice at the cross. Baptism itself is a picture of death, symbolizing the death of the old life under the waters and coming out in the resurrection newness of life. Baptism points to that cross on which Jesus died.
In both instances, the tearing of sky and sky veil was followed by motion, by movement. In the former the Spirit in dove form descended; in the latter the breath was sent forth. The Spirit of God in the Hebrew Bible is often depicted as wind or breath. The Hebrew word ruach interchangeably can mean all three—spirit, wind, and breath. The pneō of ekpneō of Jesus “breathing his last” means to breathe hard or to blow as wind, the same as ruach. So Jesus sending forth His breath at His earthly ministry’s end parallels the Father sending forth the Spirit at the beginning. So at the exact time Jesus died—the baptism and cross in unison—the tearing of the heavens made way for the Spirit or breath of God to be sent out.
Remember how Mark used that peculiar word aphiēmi in connection with Jesus’ final breath? He sent out or sent forth His breath with no expectation of it returning. The scene subtly depicts the Spirit being sent forth to find a permanent resting place in the centurion. Jesus was the first man upon whom the Spirit could rest completely and not return back to heaven. Because Jesus’ death completely forgave sins, now the Spirit could rest upon all mankind, this centurion being the first of many. Whether this be the actual depositing of the Holy Spirit in the heart of man or just picturing what was to come at Pentecost is a debate for another time. Mark here is giving us a theological perspective in which to think about Jesus’ final breath. Elevation Worship’s song “Resurrecting” includes a line that’s perfectly conveys what Mark is trying to present: “His final breath upon the cross / Is now alive in me.”
The parallels between Jesus’ baptism and Jesus’ death continue. Check this out:
And a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”
Mark 1:11 ESV
The centurion echoes that same heavenly pronouncement: “Truly this man was the Son of God!” The same voice after the torn heavens is speaking after the torn veil! The Father’s voice from heaven is now resounding on earth! The Father who spoke at Jesus’ baptism is again speaking through the centurion! In context of the disciples giving verbal testimony, Jesus encouraged them with divine help, “For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (Mt 10:20). In response to Peter’s confession of Him being the Son of the living God, Jesus enthused, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” (Mt 16:17). Similarly, this centurion’s eye opening revelation of Jesus as the Son of God came as a blessing from the Father.
This brings us full circle to the “day of visitation” that Peter has labored for us to see in the life of Jesus. “When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1Pe 2:23). This centurion was in charge of the soldiers who drove the iron spikes into our Lord’s hands and feet. Yet Jesus didn’t revile him. He didn’t protest. He didn’t threaten the one directly overseeing His suffering. Because He yielded Himself to “him who judges justly,” that opened up a day of visitation for this centurion. God visited him! God visited him like the widow’s son from Nain who went from death to life. The centurion went from spiritual death to spiritual life. “God has visited His people!” He did. Because Jesus didn’t take things into His own hands but surrendered Himself to His Father’s keeping, the Father visited the centurion at the cross. The Father visited the thief on the cross because Jesus submitted Himself in His fiery trial. “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps” (1Pe 2:21).
Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.
1 Peter 4:19 ESV
So if we suffer according to the will of God, trusting and committing our souls to Him, what is He going to be? A faithful Creator. Peter could have said any number of things—a faithful Savior, a faithful Shepherd, a faithful Lord. Why a faithful Creator? Because as Creator He makes all things new! Creators take dead people and make them alive. They transfigure the old creation of death into a new creation of life! So if we can go through our trials trusting that we have a heavenly Father who loves us—that meek and quiet spirit that’s beautiful in the sight of God (1Pe 3:4)—not only will you be blessed but He will actively undertake to bless those who are causing the suffering and hurt in our life. That’s the teaching of Peter. That’s what he’s trying to get us to see about our trials.
When the Holy Spirit connected these dots for me, my faith just soared! I’d never seen this clearly before how my submission to God, following Christ’s example, opens up a pathway of supernatural visitation to those inflicting verbal or even physical abuse. This transcends the comfort I get knowing that God knows my pains. Not only is He aware and sympathetic, He’s present to architect blessing in the lives of those far from Him that they might know Him. These seemingly hopeless cases of thieves and centurions that come my way are candidates for merciful divine intervention. By doing life the Jesus way, hoping in God as a faithful Creator, I can expect a miracle in those who’d hurt me verbally or physically. “Now who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, you will be blessed” (1Pe 3:13-14).
Next, we’ll examine Peter’s final illustration of this principle with Sarah. In the light of ominous days ahead of us, Sarah’s example provides a whole lot of faith-boosting encouragement to see how God visits unbelievers with His gracious day of visitation.
Glory Unveiled: Discovering Jesus 