Enough

Jesus made a whip from some ropes and chased them all out of the Temple. (John 2:15, NLT)

Every year, April 15th rolls around—Tax Day. And every year, I hold my breath, wondering if I did the math right, hoping maybe this time I’ll get a return. But somehow, I always end up owing more. I’m never quite sure why. The rules keep changing... or maybe it’s just me. Either way, it’s always the same: whatever I’ve done—it’s never quite enough.

That feeling—never quite enough—isn't new. God's people knew it well. They experienced it every year during Passover.

Passover was a celebration of remembrance—when the blood of a lamb over the doorframe of your home meant rescue, deliverance, and salvation. It was a night when judgment passed over. It was a shadow of something greater to come.

For centuries after that first Exodus, people streamed into Jerusalem and gathered in the Temple courts to observe Passover and honor God with a sacrifice. They came from distant towns and surrounding villages, bearing offerings—hoping to pay their dues for mercy and forgiveness.

But there were rules. First, they had to exchange their money at an unfair rate and then buy a lamb, a dove, or two pigeons for an outrageous price. They paid extravagantly for something that was never enough. Year after year. Sacrifice after sacrifice. Blood upon blood. It was a vicious and empty cycle.

And then Jesus came.

He walked into the Temple and saw what God’s house had become—a business, a machine, a place where grace was sold at a markup. He saw the injustice, the swindling, the shell of religion that burdened the people but never freed them—and He had seen enough.

With a whip of cords, He overturned tables, sent coins flying, and drove out the merchants who had turned His Father’s house into a den of thieves. He didn’t just flip tables that day—He flipped the whole system—the way humanity understood access to God. The doves took flight, the cattle fled, the sheep scattered... and grace came running.

When the dust settled, there were no sacrifices left in the building.

None, except One.

The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world stood alone in the Temple courts, steady and unshaken—like a tree on a hill.

It was a glimpse of what was coming. Because days later, on a hill called Calvary, Jesus paid the ultimate, extravagant price—once and for all—for the religious, the swindlers, the broken, the lost... and for you and me. On the cross, He shed His blood and spoke words that shattered every system, silenced every sacrifice, and sealed our salvation forever:

“It is finished.” (John 19:30, NIV)

No more striving. No more endless atonement. Nothing between us and the love of God.

Jesus… is enough.