Divine Absence and Divine Action
There are places in the Old Testament where it takes work to find Jesus. Psalm 22 is not one of them. If we’re at all familiar with the gospels, we can’t help but see numerous connections between this psalm and the life, and especially the death, of Jesus. Psalm 22 is very clearly a messianic psalm, a psalm about the trials and triumph of the Davidic king.
But more than a messianic psalm, Psalm 22 is also a very human psalm, a very human prayer. And my primary aim this morning is to try to connect the human to the messianic. If you only see the human, you don’t see enough. If you only see the messianic, you don’t see enough.
So this morning I want to walk through the psalm, showing you the valleys and the mountains, showing you the movement and struggle in this psalm. And as I do, I want you to listen for what resonates. Listen for the humanity of the psalm. Find yourself here. And then, after we’ve seen the movement of the psalm as a whole, I want to connect it to the life and work of Jesus, in hopes that by bringing the human and the messianic together, we can all be encouraged.
The Human Prayer
First, the big picture. Psalm 22 has two major sections: vv. 1-22, and vv. 23-31. The tone and feel of each section is very different. The first half is a lament, filled with loud cries and desperate requests. The second half is filled with triumphant praise and declarations of God’s goodness. Within these sections, there’s significant movement.
The psalm opens with a cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Perhaps some of the most well known words in the Bible. You can hear the distress. The doubling of “My God,” the obvious and felt sense of abandonment, the confusion as to why.
In this series, we’ve seen similar questions from a similar place of divine absence. Psalm 13: “How long, O Lord?” But here the question is “Why?” And this question is so pointed because he’s my God. If you’re my God, you should be near. But you’re not near. You’re far from saving me, from the words of my groaning. And I’ve been groaning. Day and night, I’ve been groaning. I’ve been crying out. I’ve been calling upon you. I’ve been the persistent widow, pestering the judge for help. And nothing. No answer. No salvation. No rest.
Now here’s why this is a very human prayer. Notice how David almost argues with himself in prayer. He begins, “I’m forsaken. My God has abandoned me. I’ve called to him, but he’s not answered.” And then he begins to go back and forth, to remind himself of the past, and to feel the struggle of the present. Keep an eye on the “Yets” and the “Buts.” “I feel forsaken. Yet, I remember your holiness and your faithfulness to my fathers.” Note the repeated word in v.4-5.
In you our fathers trusted;they trusted, and you delivered them.5 To you they cried and were rescued;in you they trusted and were not put to shame.
They trusted you. They trusted you. They trusted you. And they were not disappointed. They were not forsaken. So he reminds himself of God’s faithfulness to other people in the past.
But then he remembers his own circumstances. I’m a worm; I’m not even a man. Everyone despises and mocks me. They wag their heads. And listen to what they say, “He trusts in the Lord (like the fathers). Let’s see if God delivers him. Let’s see if God rescues him, because God delights in him.” And God’s absence makes that mockery land hard. I’m not like my fathers. They trusted; they were delivered. I’m trusting; I’m not delivered. That’s not my story.
But then he answers himself. This time, not based other people’s stories, but his own experience. And he addresses God again. “You took me from the womb. You made me trust you (there’s that word again) at my mother’s breast. At my most helpless and dependent, you were with me; you cared for me, and from the womb, you have been my God (there’s that word again).”
So, note the wrestling in prayer. And that’s important. This is not wrestling apart from prayer. It’s wrestling in prayer. He’s taking all of this turmoil to the God that he thinks is not listening to him, to the God that he thinks has abandoned and forsaken him. And this is very important for us. In our darkness, in our struggles, do we wrestle in prayer, or apart from prayer? Do we simply worry and fret, do we think and wrestle with doubts and despair? Or do we bring them to the God who feels far from us, who hides his face from us?
The late theologian John Webster once wrote, “We never talk about God behind his back.” David knows this. So he doesn’t pretend to talk about God and his absence apart from God. He seeks the face of God in prayer in the midst of God’s felt absence.
I feel forsaken by you, God.
But I know you’re holy. And my fathers trusted you, and you delivered them.
But you haven’t done that for me. I’m a worm, mocked by others for trusting in you.
But I’ve trusted you since I was a little baby, and you’ve cared for me as long as I’ve been alive.
And then he caps this initial section with a request. I’m going to call this the minor cry, because in a moment, he’ll return to it and amplify it.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near,and there is none to help. (v.11)
Do you hear the connection to his opening question? “Why are you so far from saving me? Don’t be far from me because trouble is near to me. You’re my God. If trouble is near, you should be near. But trouble is near, and you’re far. And I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Now he turns to describe the trouble in more detail. Verses 12-18 describe the trouble. Let me briefly describe the trouble:
1) He’s surrounded by enemies and opponents. Bulls of Bashan, like roaring lions—these are likely elite opponents. Bashan is a site associated with idolatry in the northern part of Israel. It’s sometimes called “the place of the serpent.” And as a center of false worship, it’s typically associated with wealth in the Bible. So these are prominent and prosperous opponents. But he’s not just surrounded by bulls of Bashan, he’s also surrounded by dogs—this likely refers to lower class enemies. This is the rabble, the mob, perhaps being led by the bulls.
2) These enemies are threatening harm. “Piercing his hands and feet” is a tough verse, because of the Hebrew. But at the very least, these enemies are gloating, mocking, helping themselves to his stuff.
3) Internally, he’s coming apart. He’s poured out. His strength is gone, dried up like clay in the sun. His courage has failed him. His heart is like wax; it’s melted away. He’s thirsty, desperate. He’s hungry; his bones are poking out of his skin. He’s practically dead and surrounded by enemies who hate him.
That’s the trouble that is near. And so, the minor cry becomes amplified as a major cry in v.19-21. “Yahweh, don’t be far off. Come quickly to my aid! Deliver me and save me!” and he highlights all of those enemies: the power of the dog, the mouth of the lion, the horns of the oxen. It’s an amplified version of what he cried out in verse 11.
That’s the major cry, but something interesting happens in the middle of it. “Deliver me” and “save me” are imperatives. They are urgent requests. But by the end of v. 21, we have a declaration. “You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen.” And this is the turn in the psalm. And perhaps that’s how it happened. In the midst of his cries for help, God broke in. “Deliver me! Save me! You’ve rescued me!” But from here on, everything is different. Now David wants to tell everyone about what God has done for him.
“I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.” Notice that he’s no longer surrounded by enemies, by bulls and lions and dogs. He’s surrounded by brothers, and he has a word for them about his God. Do you fear the Lord? Then praise him. Are you the seed of Jacob? Glorify him. Are you the offspring of Israel? Stand in awe of him. Why?
Because he has not despised the affliction of the afflicted (v.24). He hasn’t hidden his face (permanently), but when the afflicted (that’s me) cried to him, he heard and he answered.
And then he addresses God again, noting that he now hears God’s commendation of him before his brothers, rather than the mockery of the crowds in the divine absence. And then David exults in God’s future grace: the afflicted will eat and be satisfied; the nations will remember and turn back to the Lord. All the families of the earth will worship him, because he is Lord of all. High and low, rich and poor—all of them will eat and worship God. Future generations will serve him, and they will tell stories to their children about how God did it. He did it. That’s the very human prayer.
The Messianic Prayer
Psalm 22 is highlighted two key places in the New Testament. The first is in the gospel of Matthew as Jesus is on his way to the cross. In Matthew 27, after his arrest, he is brought before Pilate and questioned by the elite—the Roman governor and the Jewish leaders. Pilate then delivers him over to be crucified. Let me read Matthew 27:32-46.
As they went out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name. They compelled this man to carry his cross. [33] And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), [34] they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. [35] And when they had crucified him, they divided his garments (Psalm 22:18) among them by casting lots. [36] Then they sat down and kept watch over him there. [37] And over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.” [38] Then two robbers were crucified with him, one on the right and one on the left. [39] And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads (Psalm 22:7) [40] and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” [41] So also the chief priests, with the scribes and elders (bulls of Bashan), mocked him, saying, [42] “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. [43] He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him (Psalm 22:8). For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” [44] And the robbers who were crucified with him also reviled him in the same way (the dogs). [45] Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. [46] And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (ESV)
This means that we ought to see layers in Jesus’s quotation of Psalm 22:1. On the one hand, it is the cry of dereliction, the cry of abandonment. Jesus is the Son of David, the messianic king, the perfect human, and here in this moment, God doesn’t deliver him. He turns him over to the dogs, the lions, the bulls of Bashan (which doesn’t simply include the thieves, the soldiers, the priests and scribes, but also includes the spiritual rulers and authorities and their minions). So God has abandoned his Messiah, the God-man, turning away from him, as the powers of darkness unleash their worst.
But Jesus’s quotation of Psalm 22 is more than a cry of abandonment; it is also a prayer of faith. Jesus sees the wagging heads. He sees the divided garments. He sees the pierced hands and feet. He hears the mockery and the scorn. And he connects the dots, because he planned the dots. Jesus knows what psalm he’s in. He knows how this song ends. And so his cry expresses both where he is in the story, and his faith in where the story is going. There will be deliverance. There will be worship. All of the nations will return to the Lord. Generations will remember what God did in this moment. They will say, “The Lord has done it.”
Connecting the Messianic and the Human
Now let’s connect the human and the messianic by looking at the other place in the New Testament where Psalm 22 is prominent. In Hebrews 2, the biblical author is arguing that Jesus fulfills Psalm 8—he was made for a little while lower than the angels, but has now been crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.
[10] For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. [11] For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, [12] saying,“I will tell of your name to my brothers;in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.”[13] And again, “I will put my trust in him.”And again, “Behold, I and the children God has given me.”[14] Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, [15] and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. [16] For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. [17] Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. [18] For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Hebrews 2:10–18, ESV)
Here’s what Psalm 22 says to us in our humanity: “I know you’ve felt forsaken by God. I know that God absence has wrecked you. You’ve cried day and night and received no answer and no rest. God has been far from you. You know the stories—stories of God’s faithfulness in the past to other people. You even have stories of your own, personal stories of God upholding you in your dependence and need. But those stories feel thin right now. Because you’re surrounded by enemies who delight in your anguish. Maybe you’re mocked because you trust in God. Death is at your doorstep, and you feel very afraid. And so your strength has dried up; your eyes are cried out. Your courage and resolve to go on has melted like wax. And you’re at the end of your rope, and you’re begging God, “Don’t be far off. Come quickly. Deliver me. Save me.”
Now to that very human experience, Jesus says two things, “I know, and I will.” In fact he says, “I will, because I know.” Jesus says to us, “I will come to deliver you. I will deliver you from the fear of death and from lifelong slavery. I will destroy the devil who holds the power of death. I will be the founder of your salvation. I will be your help. I will be your merciful and faithful high priest. I will bring you from the pit of despair to the heights of glory.” And he says, “I will help you, and I can help you, because I know. I know what it is to suffer. I became the founder of your salvation through suffering. I became your merciful and faithful high priest through suffering. I became like you in every respect.
I walked the same path that you’ve walked. I am able to help you in your anguish because I have walked in my own anguish. I know what it is to suffer, to be forsaken by God, turned over to your enemies, abandoned by your friends, surrounded by the wicked. I know what it is to be pierced, stretched, bones out of joint, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, clothes divided among my enemies. I know, and because I know, I will. I will help you. I will deliver you.”
Conclusion
Jesus has a word for us this morning, for this congregation that can’t congregate. And it’s a word especially for those who are in the first half of Psalm 22, who feel God’s absence, who long for his presence, who wonder why he’s forsaken you, and why he’s far from you, and why he’s hidden his face from you, and whose strength is dried up and whose courage is melted, and who are on the verge of quitting.
This is what Jesus, the crucified and risen Messiah, says to you today. Do you fear the Lord? Praise him. Are you a son of Jacob, a daughter of Israel? Stand in awe of him and glorify him. Your god, your God, does not despise your affliction. The afflicted will eat and be satisfied. Rich and poor will eat and worship. God will not hide his face forever. He will answer and deliver you. Keep trusting him. Like your fathers before you. Like you’ve done in the past.
And remember that this isn’t just about you. It reaches down to you, in your personal anguish. God is there in your story. But this story encompasses all nations, all the families of the earth. All of them will remember and turn to the Lord. From generation to generation, we will declare that the Lord has done it. Or to be more specific, we will declare, that it is finished. That’s the message of Psalm 22: From divine absence to divine action. From desperate cry to triumphant praise. From the Lord has forsaken to the Lord has done it.