“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” One of the most recognizable phrases uttered by Jesus on the cross. As He agonizes in His impending death, He invokes the language and promise of Psalm 22. He isn’t hiding behind polished religious language or spiritual platitudes; He embraces the Psalmist’s anguish and pain. He gives voice to the real experience of being mocked, beaten, and brought to the door of death.
 
The beauty of the passage lies not in its embrace of lament, but in how the Psalmist, and how Jesus Himself, remembers the faithfulness of God, cries for help, and speaks of praise in the gathered assembly of the children of God. As he so often does, the Psalmist extends the cries of one man to one nation, and then to the ends of the earth. All will remember and turn to the Lord because the Kingdom belongs to Him.

At the cross, the crowds saw a rejected man and assumed He had failed to accomplish what He’d promised. Even the disciples, except Mary and John, scattered like scared kittens from His side. This passage reminds us to resist such a shallow portrait of the event. We learn that even in the midst of abject suffering, God’s saving purpose can be at work, even when His face feels hidden. This doesn’t mean every painful event is secretly good or every loss can be explained in this life. But it does mean suffering can’t derail the Kingship of Jesus or break His covenant promises.
 
Psalm 22 gives us the space to lament while allowing hope to remain. It teaches us that faith may cry out honestly in pain, yet still remember who rules and reigns at the end of it all. The Kingdom didn’t disappear the day Jesus died. It was beginning its powerful march forward, regardless of who could or could not see it.

Where are you tempted to interpret God’s hiddenness or quiet as His absence? When this happens, what can Psalm 22 teach your heart about pushing through lament to embrace praise that floods the whole earth?

Father, I admit sometimes Your presence feels hidden from me. In those times, teach me to pray honestly, but also teach me to embrace the hope of surrender. Thank you that Jesus carried the deep anguish and lament on the cross, truly One who has known sorrow and grief. Help me to keep my eyes on you when either I or those around me feel the pain of suffering. Amen.

“When God feels hidden, I will remember that __________________.”