The final words of my Savior as he hung on a tree.
Baring the physical wounds of his tormentors. Carrying the weight of a world of sinners. A weight that was not his own. A weight he willingly took upon himself. Not his cup, but he drank from it.
This was not a cry given in resignation. These were not the relieved last words of a broken God man.
It is a battle cry. A proclamation of victory. A declaration that will end a fight you or I could not win for ourselves.
It is finished.
He has conquered sin.
He has defeated death.
He is the sacrificial Lamb.
He is the victorious warrior.
I, I am the unworthy wretch who is now clean.
I am also a victor. Because of His gift. His grace.