Good Friday | 03.04.2026 | John 18:1–19:42 | David M. Wendel |

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. ⁷ He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.

How many of us, from the time of our birth, knew how our lives were going to play out? How many of us, from an early age could see, clearly, the trajectory of our lives, so that our lives were simply the unfolding of that plan, laid out, determined for us, at birth? If you were born as the heir to the British throne, you would know from birth, that you would one day be King or Queen of England. If your family owned a business, or a farm, it may be that from the day you were born, you were expected to grow into it, to one day take the reins from your parents. Most of us start life and get through a lot of life, not knowing, not clearly seeing, God’s will for our path forward in life. That wasn’t the case, however, for Jesus.

One of the most common names and descriptions of our Lord Jesus Christ, is “Lamb of God.” In the Gospel of John, the evangelist records the words of John the Baptizer, some time after the baptism of Jesus, when, upon seeing Jesus coming toward him, he declares, twice: “Behold, the Lamb of God!” And—did John’s disciples understand what that meant? Did they grasp what John was telling them? Do we?

Do we understand, at all, what that means? I’m not so sure it touches us as deeply as it should. I’m always a little troubled that in the Lutheran Book of Worship, the green book, the editorial team took it upon themselves to change previous Lutheran practice, now having the congregation sit during the singing of the Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God canticle after the Eucharistic Prayer and Words of Institution. At that moment, we are standing with John the Baptizer, seeing Jesus, with us, in the bread and wine which have become His Body and Blood, His real presence with us, and we say, with John, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” “Look,” we’re saying, “here He is—right here, in our midst,” so that the canticle we sing is a hymn of praise to Jesus, as we are addressing Him directly, boldly proclaiming to all who can hear, “This is Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And we are witnesses of His presence.

The two disciples asked Jesus, “Where are you staying?” And Jesus answered, “Come and see.” And we come, every Sunday, to see Jesus, to see where He may be found, as He presents Himself, offers Himself to us, and to the world. So, no wonder previous Lutheran worship books had worshipers standing in the presence of the Lamb of God. The Common Service Book of 1917 and the Service Book and Hymnal of 1958 both instruct, “Then, the congregation standing, shall be sung the Agnus Dei.”  The canticle, “Lamb of God” is found in practically all Lutheran Church orders from 1525 on, having been introduced into the western liturgy around 700 AD by Pope Sergius I, who was Syrian by birth and may have brought the Agnus Dei from his experience of the Greek liturgy which was in use much earlier. In Lutheranism, as in the broader western tradition, the Lamb of God canticle has always been sung as a eucharistic devotion at the time of the Fraction, the breaking of the bread, which symbolizes Christ’s Body, broken for the sinful world. At that point, as the Lamb of God is physically, bodily present, the words of John the Baptist are sung by the congregation as an act of adoration and petition, according to Lutheran Professor Luther Reed, in his liturgy books of 1957 and 1959, where he writes, “The minister, the choir and the congregation should give (the singing of the Agnus Dei) undivided attention and endeavor to realize its deeply devotional spirit.” Professor Reed says, “The music of the Agnus Dei should be sung softly and with deep devotion…as a spiritual communion with the Christ who is directly addressed and whose Presence we sense, as its petitions embrace the blessings which his sacrificial death secured for us.”

That spiritual communion, that connection with Jesus’ sacrificial death is what matters, not just in the Agnus Dei canticle we sing, but in the Scriptural notion that Jesus is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. That Jesus is the fulfillment of the prophecies, in the Old Testament, that this Jesus was formed in the womb, as we read in Isaiah 49, destined before His mother named His name, to bring back the remnant of Israel and to be a light to the nations, that salvation might reach to the end of the earth. In this sense, we learn from the prophecy of Isaiah, that Jesus’ life and path was laid out for Him before He was born, in accordance with the Father’s eternal plan for the salvation, not just of Jews, but for all people. The four suffering servant songs in Isaiah all point to the coming of this unique Messiah who would be the Lamb of God, but none more specifically than in Isaiah 53, where the prophet speaks of Jesus, saying, “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief…surely he has borne our pains and carried our sorrows…but he was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed…all we, like sheep, have gone astray…and the Lord God has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb led to the slaughter, so he opened not his mouth.”

Like a lamb led to the slaughter, he opened not his mouth, as He gave His life, willingly, for us and for our salvation, to save us from the sentence of eternal death, which all sinners deserve. And the significant word here is “willingly.” Before He was born, before His mother said His name, Jesus was destined for this, so that He lived His life and went to His death, willingly. Is there anything so moving, so transforming, as one who willingly gives up his or her life, for the sake of another?

Imagine that you are standing before the judgment throne with your whole life laid out, visibly before you. Embarrassed and ashamed, you can’t plead, “not guilty,” because it’s all right there, every sin, every act of disobedience, everything you thought you’d kept hidden, never to be seen or revealed, now in evidence against you. And the sentence, the judgment against you is death, eternal death, for “the wages of sin is death.” You are condemned by your own sin and you will be put to death—when Jesus steps in front of you, willingly taking your place, willing to accept your punishment, so that you might live. And He is nailed to the cross, while you go free. Like a lamb led to the slaughter, Jesus opened not His mouth in protest, taking upon Himself the iniquity of us all, so that we might live, though He would die. Only the Son of God, only the chosen Messiah, only the sinless one, the unblemished lamb, could serve as a worthy sacrifice, making atonement for the sins of the world, and your sins and my sins. But Jesus did so willingly. He gave His life, for you and for me. That though we die, yet shall we live, after death. And what became of the Lamb of God who died for us?

The book of Revelation refers to the Lamb of God 28 times, describing Jesus as a Lamb, standing, as though it had been slain, the Lamb who alone is worthy of worship and praise, honor and glory, for the robes of the saints have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, and they hunger no more and thirst no more, and the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat, for the Lamb is in the midst of the throne and now, the Lamb will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” That’s what happened to the Lamb of God who willingly gave His life, for us. He is now the shepherd of all those who have been baptized into His death and resurrection, all those who’ve had their robes washed in His blood. And that’s you and that’s me. The Lamb of God is now our shepherd, the Good Shepherd, who laid down His life, for His sheep, guiding us to springs of living water, guiding us through life, through death, into eternal life, God Himself, wiping every tear from our eyes along the way.

That’s what we ponder, this Good Friday, as we have heard, again, the Passion of our Lord, His suffering, crucifixion and death.  We see Jesus, but even more, we see the Lamb of God, nailed to the cross, for you and for me, and for the sinful world. May the magnitude and meaning of His sacrifice, touch our hearts and minds this Good Friday.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

©David M. Wendel
d.wendel@grace43081.org
Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church
Westerville, Ohio USA