Lament : Psalm 23
This month marks the 15th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. The hurricane slammed into Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, but we mainly remember it for the broken levees and flooding in New Orleans. I remember spending hours watching the coverage. The footage of flooded streets, boats throughout the city, and crowds desperately seeking refuge in the Superdome-it all shocked me. Over 1200 people died as a result of Hurricane Katrina and the aftermath. It caused 125 billion dollars in damage. A few years ago, I read Sheri Fink’s book “Five Days at Memorial” which details the immense challenges and ethical dilemmas faced at a New Orleans hospital. Over the last few weeks, I listened to The Atlantic’s podcast “Floodlines” hosted by Vann Newkirk. The stories of pain and suffering move me, trouble me, and haunt me.
Pain and suffering has always haunted me. I remember when I first realized the intensity of suffering in this life. I remember when I first realized that pain is not an every now and then occurrence but a daily foe in this world. I say all of that realizing that I’ve had a blessed life. The majority of humans who have lived on this earth experienced far more pain and suffering than me.
I’ve asked many questions in my life. I’ve wrestled with many questions and sought many answers. No question has captivated my attention more than this question, “How do I reconcile the pain and evil of this world with the belief in a good God of purpose?” My journey with this question took me to Jesus. My search for answers took me to the story of a King who experienced betrayal, torture, and public execution. The Christian response to pain and suffering remains one of the main reasons I continue to follow Jesus. Jesus resists easy, trite answers as well as hopeless cynicism. Jesus does not offer philosophical sayings from afar. Jesus enters into pain and suffering, completely, and in doing so, Jesus changes how we think about and approach pain and suffering.
Building on what we talked about last week, Jesus laments. Jesus honestly names the pain while crying out in hope. Matthew 27:45-46 45 From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land.46 About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). This is not the first time we read these words in the Bible. Jesus quotes David in Psalm 22. If you have a Bible, let’s open it up together. I want us to read the entire psalm, section by section.
Psalm 22 is a lament psalm. Laments start with what we don’t know and move towards what we do know. Laments move from questions to answers, even if not every question is answered. This psalm proves unique because unlike the simple trajectory of Psalm 13 (last week), this psalm has a back and forth quality. Remember the sequence of orientation, disorientation, and reorientation in laments. You’ll notice that David vacillates among the various stages before settling in reorientation at the end.
You should know I’m working with a premise this morning. I believe that when Jesus quotes the first line of the psalm, he was invoking the entirety of the psalm. I think that fits with how he quotes the Old Testament in other places. I also think it fits with the overall meaning of the cross. Think of it like this. If you hear someone say, “I have a dream”, they’re not just invoking one line but likely the entire speech of Dr. King. If you here someone say, “we hold these truths to be self-evident,” they’re likely trying to invoke the overarching meaning of the Declaration of Independence. When Jesus cries out by quoting the first verse of Psalm 22, I believe he wants us to consider the entire psalm.
Psalm 22 1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? 2 My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest. Jesus offers an honest, vulnerable, and intimate cry of disorientation. Jesus feels abandoned and forsaken. On one hand, it might trouble us that the Son of God felt this way. On the other hand, though, it might encourage us that Jesus identifies with our experience. He’s been there. If you’ve ever felt forsaken, know this. Jesus did too.
During Hurricane Katrina, the mandatory evacuation order came too late for some to get out. Some didn’t have access to transportation. Many of these individuals found themselves without extremely limited food and water for days. Rumors and hysteria spread like wildfire. It all contributed to this apocalyptic sense of abandonment. They felt forsaken.
Jesus wants you to know that it’s okay to say this out loud. You can pray, “My God My God why have you forsaken me?” You can ask that question. God is big enough to handle it. It’s okay to say that you feel forsaken. Consider our current moment. You may feel trapped, like you have plenty of bad options but no good ones. You may feel stuck at home and lonely. You may feel overwhelmed with work or childcare, or working while facilitating virtual school. You may be feeling dread over virus concerns and frustration that others don’t share your concerns. You may feel like this country has lost its way, and you’re not sure it will find it during your lifetime. You may feel like your views are misunderstood and misconstrued. You may have a stack of bills with no idea how to pay them. You may be stuck in a marriage relationship or parent-child relationship that seems to have no resolution in sight. In the midst of all of this, you may feel deep frustration with the church and even with God. The church may seem like little help to you. God may seem to have gone silent. I want you to know this. Jesus, like David before him, wants you to know this. It’s okay to say it. Trust Jesus. It’s okay. My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?
But know this. David’s psalm does not end there. Jesus’ beliefs don’t end there. Your faith journey does not end there. Let’s continue.
3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one Israel praises. 4 In you our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. 5 To you they cried out and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame. Notice the conjunction. In laments, always look for the words “yet” and “but.” David reminds himself of how God worked amongst his ancestors. This is why it’s so important for young and old to spend time together. This is why an intergenerational church is so important. Young people bring enthusiasm, fresh outlooks, and an ability to question tradition. Older people bring wisdom, experience, and an ability to discern what beliefs should stay and which should be discarded. Amongst the experience piece, older people have memories of how God worked in their life. Even at my age, I have those memories. I remember fears and anxieties concerning finishing high school, deciding on a career, navigating sexuality and relationships, burying people I loved, not getting jobs I really wanted, having to move when I didn’t want to, and driving home from the hospital with a baby with no idea what would happen next. (It was my baby by the way.). In all of that, God worked. God was with me, even when it didn’t feel like it at the time. I have more confidence in God now than I did twenty years ago, because I have more experience of God being faithful.
But with older folks, it’s even more. The Crouchs, Eubanks, Myricks, Prills, and Judy all have so many more years of experiencing God’s faithfulness. If we look to church history, we see even more. Our spiritual mothers and fathers made it through other pandemics, wars, and depressions. They survived. The church survived. When you go through something for the first time, know this. It may be your first time, but thousands upon thousands of other disciples have gone through it and come out on the other side. Let that encourage you.
6 But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people. 7 All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. 8 “He trusts in the Lord,” they say,“let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.” Notice another conjunction, the word “but.” When thinking of how God proved faithful to his ancestors, David says, “but I am a worm.” David doubts himself. He thinks maybe he’s uniquely sinful and flawed. He dehumanizes himself. Basically, he’s saying this. “Yeah God was faithful to others, but maybe I’m different. Maybe this time is different. Family, know this. You are not different. Your sin is not worse than anyone else’s sin. You are not less human than anyone else, no matter what you have done or what others might have done to you. Do not believe the lie that God does not value you. God created you. You better believe God values you.
9 Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. 10 From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God. This is where you see David going back and forth. He’s tempted to think he’s uniquely bad and uniquely unworthy. He’s tempted to think God has not been there for him. But then he remembers how God was with him, even in the womb. Even in those baby and toddler years. This is an important thing to do. Take the time to remember how God has been there for you in the past. You might journal a bit. Some sketch out a spiritual autobiography. For me, here’s an example. I think of jobs I really wanted but didn’t get. Then, I think of the jobs I got because I didn’t get the other job. I can see God directing my path as I look back.
Okay, in this next section, David recounts the details of all that he’s lamenting. We’re not sure what part of his life this came from, but we do know he ran from Saul, his son Absalom, and others at different points of his life. 11 Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help. 12 Many bulls surround me; strong bulls of Bashan encircle me. 13 Roaring lions that tear their prey open their mouths wide against me. 14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me. 15 My mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death. 16 Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me; they pierce my hands and my feet. 17 All my bones are on display; people stare and gloat over me. 18 They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.
Every time I read this, I get chills. David wrote this a thousand years before Jesus, and then Jesus quotes the first line on the cross. Think of those lines which remind you of the cross. “They pierce my hands and feet.” “They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.” “A pack of villains encircles me.” Something like this happened to David. Something like this happened to Jesus. Something like this may happen to you. I can think of countless Christians from history and even today that can claim some of these phrases in their own experience. Once again, the God of the Bible, the God made flesh in Jesus doesn’t offer philosophical explanations from afar. God enters into our suffering and gives it a different ending.
19 But you, Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me. 20 Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. 21 Rescue me from the mouth of the lions; save me from the horns of the wild oxen. 22 I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you. 23 You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel! 24 For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help. 25 From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly; before those who fear you I will fulfill my vows. 26 The poor will eat and be satisfied; those who seek the Lord will praise him—may your hearts live forever! 27 All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, 28 for dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations. 29 All the rich of the earth will feast and worship; all who go down to the dust will kneel before him— those who cannot keep themselves alive. 30 Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. 31 They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn: He has done it!
David asks for rescue and promises to declare God’s power to future generations. David makes a vow if you will. If you deliver me, I’ll tell people forever. God did deliver David, and David did tell people of God’s power for as long as he lived. But ultimately, David died. What do we do with that? What do we do with the seeming forsakenness of death?
This is where Jesus’ embrace of Psalm 22 gives a final interpretation. The cross will not be the last word on Jesus. The cry of “My God My God why have you forsaken me?” will not last forever. God raised Jesus from the dead. If we believe in Jesus, we will rise from the dead.
In the future, there is complete kingdom where we’ll never have a sense of being forsaken. Notice the kingdom fulfillment language of verses 26-28. 26 The poor will eat and be satisfied; those who seek the Lord will praise him—may your hearts live forever! 27 All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, 28 for dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations. This is heaven. This is the new heavens and the new earth. This is what Jesus will enact when he returns.
What does all of this mean? If Jesus’ crucifixion was his disorientation, then the resurrection was a reorientation. Notice the triumphant “he has done it” at the end. I find that incredible similar to “it is finished.” Jesus secured our future hope by entering into an experience of forsakenness. By coming into our pain and suffering, Jesus changed how we see pain and suffering.
Our suffering is really hard, but it is temporary. It will not last forever. Someday, things will be better. Jesus conquered death. Jesus is alive now. We will experience some good times on this earth. Life here will have some good moments, a taste of the kingdom. For example, if you’ve been to New Orleans in recent years, you can see signs of renewal. It’s beautiful to see, even if it’s still not perfect. But someday, when Jesus returns, there will be no more pain and suffering. Life will be how it should be, the complete and total kingdom.
So in the meantime, we should lament. We should practice honest hope. We should feel free to say out loud, “My God, My God why have you forsaken me.?” This is the cry of disorientation, which we all feel at times. But we should also proclaim, “He has done it.” Christ has done it. This is honest hope.
I have a lot of unanswered questions, but I do know this. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Our best days are ahead of us. We will not be forsaken.
