STATION 12: JESUS DIES ON THE CROSS

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last.
— Luke 23:44-46 (NRSV)

Station 12

The sky goes dark.
The earth holds its breath.
And the one who gave breath to creation
releases his own with a final cry.

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
Not a whisper of defeat—
but a declaration of trust.

This is the moment when the world changes.
The veil in the temple tears.
The separation between God and humanity rips open—
not with rage,
but with redemption.

Here, at the foot of the cross,
there is silence.
And sorrow.
And yet, somehow, also sacredness.

God has entered death itself.
Not to be conquered by it,
but to fill it with love.

We come to this moment
not to understand it,
but to stand beneath it.
To let it speak what words cannot.
To let it tell the truth
that love has gone to the very end—
for us.

Let us pray.

Jesus, you breathed your last so that we might breathe new life.

In the silence that followed, you held the weight of the world — every sin, every sorrow, every suffering.

Forgive us for the times we rush past the cross, unwilling to sit in the grief, unwilling to face the cost of love.

We pray for all who are dying today — and for all who sit beside them. We pray for hospice workers, for chaplains, for those who grieve deeply and quietly.

Let your final breath become the beginning of something holy in us.

Teach us to trust as you trusted — to place our spirit into the hands of God.

Amen.