Matthew 27:38-46
Have you ever tried to do something really worthwhile, really noble, only to have it blow up in your face?
· Maybe you took in someone in need only to have them steal from you.
· Or maybe you went above and beyond to make amends with a friend only to have them berate you and tell you how awful you are.
· Or maybe you sent substantial money to a charity only to find out the project was a scam.
Having our earnest attempts at faithfulness blow up in our face knocks the wind out of us. It can feel like we’re suffocating when we learn the awful news. Our heart stops and drops into the pit of our stomach as we try and wrap our minds around the truth of our heartbreak, the betrayal that we feel.
In the midst of our pain, we are tempted to ask, “God where are you? I was seeking to serve you, to honor your laws. What happened? How could you let it go so wrong? We are tempted to question we have misheard God, or whether God misled us?
· Was I really supposed to take that person to my home? Is that really what you wanted me to do?
· Or was reconciliation even possible? Was forgiveness even worth it? After all, I only made it worse…
· Or how could that so called Philanthropist have lied? How could they show all those starving children and then take the money for themselves? They said they were doing your work Lord, why did you let this happen?
· Why God? How could you let such things happen? Why is it worth being faithful if awful things happen?
We ask those questions, don’t we? When our hearts are breaking. When we feel lost and betrayed.
This week, as we look at the 4th of the 7 last words, we hear Jesus ask a similar question, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Jesus, in the midst of doing the most selfless thing ever done is betrayed, abused, and mocked. He might have hoped for at least one person who understood—one person who recognized what he was doing as he hung there suffering. But instead of seeking eternal victory—eternal salvation—the crowds, the guards, the Pharisees—all they wanted was the quick fix.
So what if he freed himself from the cross? Aside from a quick show of power, what would have been accomplished?
What if he had fought the Romans, to what end? Even if he freed the Jews from Roman rule—for how long? They couldn’t have been safe forever.
Instead, Jesus followed God’s plan for a lasting victory, for eternal salvation and so he hung there on the cross, ever faithful to God and to the people he sought to save. And things couldn’t have felt more desperate.
· Beaten
· Rejected
· Barely breathing
· Spat upon
· Mocked
· Neglected
· Betrayed
· Heartbroken
“My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?”
Jesus was desperate, alone, and hurting. The Word who put on flesh hit bottom emotionally and ached for a reprieve. He’s hurt as much as we have. That living hell that we experience from time to time—he was there, on the cross.
Because of Easter, we are prone to romanticize the cross. Because we’ve seen the happy ending, we think the suffering must not have been that bad. But it was. It was worse than our greatest pain. Christ’s pain was greater as he hung there alone, rejected, and betrayed on the cross. It was greater, not so he could win the “my-hurt-is-greater-than-yours” contest but so that no matter our circumstances no matter how awful we feel, how deeply we are wounded or how often we’ve been betrayed, God can always empathize and say, “I know how bad it hurts. I promise I do. And it will get better. I made sure of that.”
In addition to forgiveness, in addition to salvation, in addition to new family relations, God wanted us to know that we are never alone in our pain. As deeply as we’ve hurt, Christ has hurt. As lonely as we’ve felt Christ has felt. It is because of Christ, through Christ that we know we are never neglected or forgotten.
That’s the first part of the story—God knows our pain. God has felt desperation, loneliness, and betrayal. And God has overcome all of that. Remember, when God tell sus God knows our pain—God also promises it will get better. A truth God knows because of Christ’s victory. A truth that was known even before then, a truth that has been known for centuries, one that was told by the psalmist.
Jesus’ words, “Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani. My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?” come from the 22nd Psalm—parts of which we read as the call to worship today. The Psalm starts with the cry for help: My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me? The psalmist pleads to be heard by God, but hears no reply. But even when he hears no answer, he still acknowledges that God has been faithful through the ages. God saved the ancestors—they trusted and were not disappointed. The psalmist reminds himself that God has provided for and helped him to this point. And then the psalmist tells of the trial he faced. “many bulls surround me” “roaring lions open their mouths wide against me” “my strength is dried up”. The psalmist pleads again for help and then begins to praise God. He claims the promises, claims God’s victories—clinging to the hope of the future.
That’s the story of the psalm and, in essence, that’s Jesus’ story on the cross. His cry of dereliction wasn’t any ordinary plea for help. It’s to claim the promise of hope—confidence in how God will heal and save.
Jesus cried out in desperation that day. That cannot be denied. He hurt as deeply as any of us have ever hurt. And he hoped—as earnestly as any of us have for the fulfillment of God’s promises. He cried out as we have, in his darkest hour, desperate to hear God’s voice and though he heard no answer, he had hope—hope that carried from his ancestors—hope that allowed them to keep on despite the magnitude of their pain. Hope that was transformed and amplified by Christ’s death on the cross.
The 4th of the 7 last words gives us assurance that God knows the depth of our pain intimately AND it reminds us to have hope even through our toughest trials and worst heartbreaks.
Let us give thanks to God. Amen
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