03/04/2026
I want to start with something simple.
I once bought some brightly coloured eggs from a German shop for a Good Friday breakfast. The plan was straightforward: boil them, sit down, crack them open, and enjoy something warm and fresh.
Except when I opened the first one—it was already hard-boiled.
What I thought I was about to do had already been done.
And that got me thinking.
Because in life—especially in something like the Sea Cadets—you’re trained to act. You prepare, you practise, you take responsibility. If something needs doing, you step forward and do it. That’s good. It matters. It builds discipline, trust, and character.
But faith doesn’t always work like that.
We often assume that being a Christian is about proving yourself, earning your place, getting everything right—like you’re still “raw” and need to sort yourself out before you’re acceptable.
And then Good Friday comes along and says something completely different.
In the Gospel of John, as Jesus is dying on the cross, he says, “It is finished.”
Not “it has started.”
Not “now it’s over to you.”
But “it is finished.”
In other words, the most important work—the thing that puts us right with God—has already been done.
Like that egg. Already boiled. Already complete.
Now here’s where it matters for you.
Because you live in a world that constantly tells you to prove yourself—be stronger, be better, be tougher, be more successful. And in the Cadets, there’s a healthy version of that: learning skills, building resilience, becoming someone others can rely on.
But don’t let that mindset creep into your understanding of your worth.
Your value isn’t something you earn by performance. It isn’t something you achieve by getting everything right. It’s something given.
Already.
And that changes how you live.
It means you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.
It means when you mess up—and you will—you’re not starting from zero.
It means you can take responsibility without being crushed by failure.
And it also changes how you see other people.
It’s easy to look at someone and think, “They need sorting out.”
But you don’t know their story. You don’t know what’s already going on beneath the surface.
God might already be at work in them in ways you can’t see.
So instead of judging, you learn respect.
Instead of shouting, you learn to listen.
Instead of assuming, you learn humility.
That’s real leadership.
Not just giving orders—but understanding people.
So here’s the takeaway:
In your training, your careers, your ambitions—yes, give your best. Step up. Take responsibility.
But in your faith, remember this:
You are not trying to become someone acceptable to God.
You are learning to live as someone who already is.
Not because of what you’ve done—
but because of what has already been done for you.
“It is finished.”
Amen.
