The Forsaken One

*The sermon manuscript below was generated from the recording by AI…

Why do we gather on Easter? Well, it’s always good to worship Him. It’s always good to reflect upon the death of Christ, the salvation accomplished in Him. For we know, don’t we, that all of the benefits that we have are rooted in the atoning work of the Lord Jesus Christ. There is no good thing that can come to us outside of His work as a mediator and a savior.

And this is why we turn to Psalm 22. You might think it a bit strange. You might think to yourself, “Well, why don’t we stay in the New Testament and turn to the Gospels?” I remember I had similar questions once when I said we’re spending Easter in Hosea, and everyone said, “Hosea? Why Hosea?” Because it all points to the Lord Jesus Christ. I hope you realize that the Old Testament is written the way it’s written because of who and what Jesus did. It’s not the other way around. It’s something we always need to be conscious of, is that Jesus did not come the way He did because the Old Testament was written. The Old Testament was written because of who Jesus is, and because of all that He would do.

And so as we turn to Psalm 22, we read of the experience of David and the heart cry of David, but the reason he uttered those words, the reason he experienced what he experienced, is because of Christ, because of our Savior, because of Easter.

Psalm 22, you may not realize this, Psalm 22, it’s not the most quoted Old Testament psalm, that’s Psalm 110, but it’s the most referenced in regards to the passion of Christ. If you don’t know what the passion of Christ is, that’s the word we use to refer to His death, His cross, His suffering. Psalm 22 is the most referenced in the Gospels as it talks about His suffering, and so it’s a fitting psalm for us to take up.

And this morning we’re just briefly thinking about the death of Christ in Psalm 22, and on Sunday we’ll think about His resurrection, and then in the afternoon as He continues His work. And so I’ve called the 3 sermons The Forsaken One, The Delivered One, and then The Gathered One. This morning we think about Jesus, the suffering servant.

What I want us to do is really read Psalm 22 from the vantage point of the cross. So you could think about it this way. It’s as if we’re sitting on Mount Golgotha, on the skull, and there is Jesus hanging upon the cross. We take up Psalm 22 and we read it. Or maybe better said, we hear it read by Jesus Himself. I mean, can you imagine what it would have been like for Jesus to read these words? It’s, I think, one of the most helpful ways you can read the Psalms, is to put them into the mouth of your Savior and hear Jesus read them, because they’re all fulfilled in Him, of course.

And so as Jesus reads these words on the cross, what do we learn? Well, the first thing we see is what’s called the cry of dereliction in verse one. The cry of dereliction, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”

It’s true, isn’t it, that the intensity of a situation drastically changes the way we cry out, right? I got provided with a free illustration of this by my mother. They went on holiday, and when they were driving to go on holiday, they told me that they went to overtake a truck, and as they went around the truck, the whole car fishtailed, and they were coming around a blind corner. And mom said the second the car started fishtailing, out of her mouth just came out, “Please, God. Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.” She said 4 times in a row, back to back, really loud. It was just this desperate heart cry to God for help, right? But praise the Lord, they didn’t have an accident, so I’ll inform you now, so you don’t wonder for the rest of the day if they are still alive up in Dargaville. They did make it out, but it was just this immediate guttural reaction, right? “Help me, God. Please, God. Please, God.” That’s what we’re seeing here in the mouth of Jesus as He hangs upon the cross in the darkness for 3 hours. The voice in pitch black darkness that cries out, that we read of in the Gospel of John is, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

And you have to understand this is not just a quote. You know, sometimes we can treat Jesus as so unhuman that we forget that His suffering is just as real as your own in every way, because He’s truly human, right? He’s truly man, and so the intensity of His suffering on that day was no different from a physical human perspective than if it was you or I suffering. And so in the midst of that suffering, He’s not just going, “Oh, that’s right, there’s that Psalm 22 that I meant to quote at this point,” you know, to fulfill the Bible. I mean, yes, He’s fulfilling the scripture, but it’s a true agony-filled cry of a heart, a heart that is suffering, that is broken, and you have to ask the question why.

Why does He cry out like this? I mean, this is Jesus, right? It’s the Son of God. This is He of whom the Father said, “This is my Son of whom I am well pleased.” This is the Son who could do nothing to displease His Father, the Son who was blameless and spotless, of whom the Father would never abandon. It’s He who has dwelt with His Father for all eternity past in perfect communion and love and joy and fellowship. And so why would He cry out, “Why have you forsaken me?”

I think there’s 3 answers for that. We see them in our text.

Firstly, because of the mouths of His enemies. Have a look with me at verse 6 to 8. “I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people. All who see me mock me. They make mouths at me. They wag their heads. ‘He trusts in the Lord. Let Him deliver him. Let Him rescue him, for he delights in him.’” That’s sarcasm, by the way. “For he delights in him.”

And we read of this. We’ve read of this, didn’t we, in Luke? Have a look. Luke 23, verse 32. “Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ And they cast lots to divide his garments. And the people stood by watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, ‘He saved others. Let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One.’ The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.’ And there was also an inscription over him of mockery: ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ And one of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, ‘Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.’”

And we’re told in the other gospels that the Pharisees and the religious leaders, they literally take up Psalm 22 and they say, “Let God save him if he wants him.”

What’s going on here? That’s Jesus being dehumanized. You see, to be a true image-bearer of God means to dwell in perfect harmony with God in heaven, doesn’t it? Well, what’s wrong with our image-bearing status? Well, as image-bearers, we’re at discord, we’re at disunity with God. We’re unreconciled in our sin. Now, Jesus was in perfect relationship with his Father, and yet here now they mock him, they ridicule him, they scorn him because he’s less than human.

And to make it worse, to make the bitterness worse, while Jesus sits suffering upon the cross, they use the one he loves against him, don’t they? It’s one thing to be opposed and ridiculed and slandered by enemies. It’s another thing for a person to use your friend or family against you as they mock you and ridicule you. It’s one of the things we’ve witnessed many times with broken children. It’s the way that those who were meant to love were used to cause so much pain. Jesus is heartbroken. His reputation is torn to shreds, right? He’s innocent. He’s never done anything wrong, and yet here he is mocked and ridiculed like a common prisoner, like a thief and a murderer.

So firstly, I think he cries out in this way because of the attack of his enemies with their mouths as they tear his humanity to shreds.

But secondly, it’s because of their hands, because of the hands of his enemies. Have a look back in Psalm 22, have a look at verse 12 to 18. “Many bulls encompass me; strong bulls of Bashan surround me. They open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death. For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet. I can count all my bones. They stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.”

And we see this, don’t we? If you’d have a look at the Gospel of Matthew, it’s depicted very vividly. The Gospel of Matthew chapter 27, verse 27 onwards. In verse 26, he scourges Jesus. He delivers him. So then verse 27: “Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole battalion before him. And they stripped him naked before them all, and they put a scarlet robe on him, and they twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and put a reed in his hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ And they spit on him, and they took the reed and struck him on the head. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him, and led him away to be crucified.” And then in verse 35, we’re told that they crucified him.

Here is the depiction. If the last one was the depiction of dehumanization via mockery and effectively mental and soul attack, this is dehumanization by physical assault, isn’t it? It’s a vivid expression, “I can count all my bones.” It’s not because he knows how many bones are in the body. It’s because his body is so languished from famine and hunger, starvation, and pain that all of his bones are exposed.

I wonder if you’ve ever seen those ads. I don’t know if they still do them, because I don’t have a TV. But they used to do those World Vision ads where they’d just portray all of these really starving-looking children, and it was just hard, right? It was horrible to look at these emaciated children, and you could see these gaunt, bony figures with bones sticking out everywhere, and you could count the ribs on the back and front. I had a friend who struggled with anorexia as a teenager, and I helped her a lot, and you could count the ribs on her back. I mean, you can’t — it’s hard to see ribs on the back of a person, but her figure was so wasted away that you could actually go one, da, da, da, da, down the back. This is the picture of our Jesus.

But it’s more than that, because you can count the ribs through the skin that’s been torn to shreds because he’s been scourged. It’s like whipping, but far worse. You don’t need detailed descriptions. We have the picture here of a man who has been so mistreated and so abused that he despairs of life itself, and around him are dogs, people gathered together and they’re hungry. You know what a pack of dogs could look like, right? Gathered around a carcass, ready to consume it, waiting. That’s the picture.

And while he suffers with intensity and pain, they gamble. They play dice for his garments. It’s the hands of his enemies that have inflicted untold pain, such pain that he could no longer carry his crossbar. Now, you realize it only says that about Jesus, right? You don’t see Simon of Cyrene carrying any of the other thieves’ crossbars. But Jesus is so physically destroyed that he cannot carry a piece of wood, and someone else has to do it for him.

And so is it any surprise that he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” because of the mental anguish through the mouths of his enemies and the physical torture by their hands.

But there’s one more reason, and it’s what these 2 things culminate to do within the heart of a saint, and that is because of what it suggests about his God. And it’s related to that mockery that the religious rulers say. Remember they said, “Let God have him if he wants him.”

Now, do you remember the temptation of Jesus in the beginning of the Gospels? And at the temptation of Jesus, when it was finished, it says something of the devil. The gospel writers record that the devil left him to tempt him at another time. And one can’t help but wonder if that, in the minds of the gospel writers, this is that time. Because what was the temptation coming to Jesus in this moment? I think it’s twofold. One, what Jesus says to Pilate and to the disciples, “If I wanted, I could call a whole legion of angels to come and protect me, to come and deliver me.” But I think primarily what we see here is a temptation to believe that God doesn’t want me.

And I think that’s what we hear in this cry, don’t we? “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” I think it’s a temptation to believe that God doesn’t want me. God will not help me. God will not save me, that God will leave me to die.

Now, hear me very carefully. I’m not saying Jesus gave in to that temptation. I’m not saying that Jesus for a second did not believe in his God. But what I’m saying is the cry of dereliction is a pointer to the reality of the intensity of the suffering that would cause every single one of you and I to accept the lie that God does not love us, and to believe the words that he uttered.

That’s a horrible picture, and we can be tempted as we sit here on Good Friday, and as we gaze into the cross and see the suffering of our savior. We can be tempted to want to evade the difficulties of a suffering savior with theological platitudes. If you don’t know what a theological platitude is, it’s when you’re suffering intensely and someone says to you, “Don’t worry about it. God works everything for your good.” That’s true. But it’s a theological platitude because it denies the reality of the intensity of the suffering I’m going through in my present life, and we can be tempted to want to try and bail ship out of the reality of Jesus crying out from his being, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” And we wanna jump out and say, “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, he says that, but we know that Jesus loves God, and God doesn’t really forsake him.”

Brothers and sisters, while your sin lay upon the Lord Jesus Christ, in all reality, he, in his humanity, was forsaken by God. Don’t rush to theological argumentation to avoid error. We can be too quick to wanna protect ourselves from falling into saying something, to creating error. We don’t wanna divide the Trinity, so we’ve gotta be real — just set that aside for a second. 2 Corinthians 5:21: “He who knew no sin became sin.” That means something. Jesus took on sin, and so as much as he took on sin, he took the forsaking, judgment, and wrath of God that was deserved for it. He’s not just quoting scripture. He’s crying out because he’s suffering. He’s suffering the abandonment and the forsaking that every sinner deserves.

Isn’t it true that every sinner deserves to be forsaken by God? That God would be perfectly just and perfectly good and perfectly loving if he cast every single person into hell, and if every single person in hell cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The response would be very simple, right? What is it? “That’s because of your sin. Would you like to know why I’ve done this? It’s because you’re sinful, and I must punish sin.”

So but when Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” what would the response from heaven be? Because of their sin. Because of their sin. “That’s why, my son. You know, my son, we agreed on this before the foundation of the world. You would become sin so that they, the guards sitting at your feet, the thief at the cross, so that they might become the righteousness of God.”

It’s preposterous, isn’t it? I mean, what father would do that? I would lay down my life for you. I mean that. If I could give one of you my kidney, I would do it immediately. But you know what? I would not sacrifice my children for you. I love them. I would sacrifice myself for you, but I would not sacrifice my children for you. And yet the Father in heaven loved us so much that He sacrificed His perfect Son. Such is the love of God.

And here’s the amazing part. Here’s the thing that really blows the mind. It’s John 10. John 10, 5 times, has a phrase repeated, “I lay down my life for the sheep.” He says in the chapter, “No one takes it from me. I lay it down.”

You see, what’s going on in Psalm 22, and in the death of Jesus Christ, with all of its horror, is happening by the free will of Jesus Christ alone. Pilate hands him over, he thinks. The Jews deliver him, they think. Pilate betrayed him, he thinks. Jesus Christ, of His own authority, went forth and laid down His life. Jesus cries out, “My God, my God,” because He decided to lay His life down as a sacrifice for you, because He loves you.

This is why we celebrate Easter.

Now, if that was all there was in Psalm 22, and if that was all there was in the Gospels, Easter would not be Good Friday, would it? And yet what we do discover in chapter 22 is that the cry of our Savior is never ignored. And so in chapter 22 of the Psalms, verse 24, we read these words, “He has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and He has not hidden His face from Him, but has heard when He cried to Him.”

When Jesus Christ cried out, “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?” it did not fall on deaf ears. And on Sunday, we’ll explore more of that as we explore the deliverance of Jesus Christ.

But for now, what I want you to do is to sit with Jesus Christ and behold Him lying, standing, hanging upon the cross, and see Him there willingly, of His own doing, for you, by name. For you. And then ask yourself this question from the hymn writer Isaac Watts, “Alas, and did my Savior bleed, and did my Sovereign die? Would He devote that sacred head for sinners such as I? Was it for crimes that I have done He groaned upon the tree? Amazing pity! Grace unknown, and love beyond degree. Well might the sun in darkness hide and shut its glories in, when God, the mighty Maker, died for His own creature’s sin. Thus might I hide my blushing face while His dear cross appears, dissolve my heart in thankfulness, and melt mine eyes to tears. But drops of tears can ne’er repay the debt of love I owe. Here, Lord, I give myself away, ’tis all that I can do.”

Brothers and sisters, hallelujah. What a Savior. Amen.

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