Psalms 22:1–18

There is a saying in Psalm 22 of deep and marvellous meaning — a sentence with no parallel in the whole book of God. It stands alone in the annals of eternity.

And is it really true that that One was forsaken by God? Did He hide His face from the only sinless, spotless, perfect Man who ever lived in this sinful world? Did He close His ear to the cry of One who lived only to do His will? Yes; astonishing as it is to say, God did this.

Here the moving words occur as prophecy. In the Gospels they are found as history. Matthew and Mark record that the Lord spoke them on the cross. In the depths of His anguish, the Lord used the words with the fullest sense of their profound meaning. He also knew that the prophecies of Psalm 22 were being fulfilled in Himself. In this work of putting away sin by the sacrifice of Himself, the Blessed One stood alone — the God-forsaken One.

But here the Lord is speaking from the cross. It is now not "My Father" as in the garden, but "My God." The question of sin has arisen. God, who is Judge of all, is now the fitting name to address. God is the righteous governor of the world. His nature is opposed to sin, and His being demands the punishment of sin. There can be no communion between holiness and unholiness, between light and darkness.

The word "Eloi" in the quotation expresses nearness — "My God." It is not Hebrew, but Syriac. Coming from Him who was always so near, this expression carries deep force. There was only one moment when He could be forsaken by God: this one, when He was taking our sins upon Him. He was always in the full sunshine of God's favour, for He was holy. There was indeed a deep agony of soul when He said, "Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?"

That God should forsake a perfectly righteous man in his distress is entirely contrary to God's ways with men. Yet we are assured there can be no unrighteousness with God. So from the lips of Christ Himself we learn what happened on this solemn and unique occasion. God was perfectly righteous in forsaking the absolutely righteous One, for the Lord can say, "But you are holy." So the One whom God forsakes is the One who fully vindicates God. These words also tell us how deeply Christ needed to be forsaken while bearing sins, if God's holiness was to be met and man was to be blessed.

It is this: the amazing love of God toward us poor sinners, a love which led Him not only to give His Son from His bosom, but to bruise and forsake Him on the cross. Why did He do this? Because there was no other possible way for us to escape. It was either eternal hell for us, or infinite wrath for the Sin-bearer. He chose the second, and so the place Christ now holds is the place of everyone who simply believes in Him.

He was forsaken then so that we might never be. It is not true, then, that the believer is forsaken by God under any circumstance. Jesus alone could say, in the fullness of the truth, both "My God" and "Why have You forsaken Me?"

So the Psalm carries its beautiful title — Aijeleth Shahar. In a strong figure of the language it means "the dawn of the morning." For that darkest night that ever was became the dawn of an endless, cloudless day for us. He was alone, how infinitely alone, in the darkness for us. Now He can join us to Himself, no longer alone, in the light He has entered.

Here is One who is absolutely forsaken by God. In His distress there is no help for Him in God. The words of His groaning call forth no response from God. His cry receives no answer from God. The night season brings Him no rest from God. And yet, the One who is forsaken like this is the only absolutely righteous One on earth. Furthermore, this righteous One, though forsaken, keeps unshaken confidence in God. He can still say, "My God."

His cry now is, "Why have You forsaken Me?" He repeats it. In all His sufferings from the hands of man the face of God was upon Him, but now His face is turned away. Why did God forsake Him? Was it for His righteousness, His holiness, His love? No. "He was made sin." When He suffered for righteousness' sake, He was representing God before man. But when He suffered for sin, He was representing man before God. He was forsaken by all; man fled; God hid His face. He was alone when He drank the cup of wrath, and those sufferings brought nothing but blessing.

But then the noonday sun was supernaturally eclipsed. There was darkness over the whole land from the sixth to the ninth hour. The Holy Sufferer was hidden from the eyes of men. He was closeted with God; and in the "night season" He was not silent. But out of the prevailing darkness came the cry, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

Resurrection was the divine answer, then, to a prayer that was heard. But in the twenty-second psalm, which also stresses a prayer that was heard, we have a prayer of the same blessed Person. About it He says, "I cry by day and You do not hear; and by night, and I am not silent." Do we not have here the true Gethsemane prayer we are looking for? Here then is the awful "cup" He is looking forward to in Gethsemane. It is the subject of the one and only prayer about which it could be said, of Him who was heard always, "You do not hear."

"I cry … and You do not answer," are the words of the psalm of atonement. But then again, "when He cried to Him, He heard" (Psalm 22:2, 24). Both things are, of course, true: each suited to its place.

In the correct translation we see the answer. He could not be saved "from" death but He was saved "out of" death. At the beginning of that Psalm He was not heard, but after the work was accomplished He was heard (verses 2 and 21).

Those heavens were once like copper to Him as He cried, "O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest." Now they drop down refreshing showers. They are opened wide for faith to see the Son of Man upon the throne, for He has magnified God's character in our salvation.

That God should forsake a perfectly righteous man in his distress is entirely contrary to the ways of God with men. Yet we are assured there can be no unrighteousness with God. So we learn from the lips of Christ Himself that on this solemn and unique occasion, God was perfectly righteous in forsaking the absolutely righteous One. This is because the Lord can say, "But you are holy." The One forsaken by God is therefore the One who entirely vindicates God. These words also tell us of the deep need for Christ to be forsaken when bearing sins, if God's holiness is to be met and man to be blessed.

Because of man's sin God's glory was at stake. God's eternal attribute of justice was in question. Was God the Holy One who hated sin? Or was He One who would favour sin and overlook its due penalty? The Lord Jesus supplies the answer in His Person, and upon the cross He upheld the unchangeable holiness of God. There He declared for the whole universe to hear, "You are holy, O You who dwell among the praises of Israel." He witnessed to that holiness by confessing His own abandonment.

He had offered Himself of His own will as a sacrifice for the sins of mankind. God is absolute in holiness, so He could not show the least fellowship with the sin the Lord Jesus was bearing on that cross. In fact, since the Lord was willingly bearing our sins, God must punish Him just as He punishes sin. How deeply must the heart of God the Father be affected as well as the heart of the Lord Jesus!

What do I bring to the cross? What do I have in it? My sins... The Righteous One, suffering for sin, vindicates God. Yet to Himself it was the depth of agony, when God forsook Him — at the moment, we may say, when He needed God most... It was obedience — suffering — to the fullest extent; but forsaken as He was, Christ says His God was holy all the same. We know now why it was. It was for sin, for our sins, not for righteousness. Our sins were our only contribution. What a tale that tells on our part; on His, what blessed love!

The holiness of the LORD required the judgment of sin. Only then could His people, or the praises of His people, be acceptable to Him. Propitiation for sins is the foundation of worship and praise, because the place where the LORD dwells is holy.

God is holy and cannot endure sin, so He had to forsake the spotless sin-bearer. But another thought is added: God inhabits, or dwells amid, the praises of His people. He must be known in such a way that His very presence produces praise... Our Lord was forsaken so that redemption might be accomplished. As a result, praise pours out from hearts forever delivered by grace.

As a result of the death of Christ, God lives in the praises of His people without having surrendered the smallest part of His holiness. This cry of abandonment came from the very depths of His holy soul. He, the Holy One of God, "suffered for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring us to God" (1 Peter 3:18).

How privileged we Christians are! We may worship God revealed as Father, while praise is still silent in Zion. We worship today in spirit and in truth. Soon God will be addressed as "You who dwell among the praises of Israel" (Ps. 22:3).

In verse 4 the Spirit of Christ still speaks. The Lord upon the cross contrasts Himself with pious men of olden days. "In You our fathers trusted (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and others); they trusted, and You delivered them. To You they cried and were rescued; in You they trusted and were not put to shame." So was it not against God's past dealings for God to forsake the Lord Jesus in His sufferings, and to ignore His cries for deliverance? Abraham was not perfect in his devotion, yet God heard his prayers.

Nothing else compares with the case of a righteous man forsaken. Set God's ways with Him beside God's ways with all others who have trusted in God, and it stands out even more. All history proved that the fathers who trusted in God were delivered. Righteous men may indeed have died as martyrs. But God had never before forsaken a righteous man.

Yet a long line of martyrs witness to us that, when it comes to rescue from the hands of enemies alone, multitudes have cried and were not rescued. Their sufferings only proved that God had not forsaken them. On the contrary, His power held them up and made them able for whatever they went through — and it showed itself all the more in that very way. How many before and since have proved Paul's experience, "Persecuted, but not forsaken"! Their patience was precious to God, and He accepted it. Yet none of these patient sufferers touched even the edge of the darkness of the cross, when the cry of the holy One found no answer.

And more still, He owned that God's abandonment of Him was the one exception: "In You our fathers trusted; they trusted, and You delivered them. To You they cried, and were not put to shame. But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people." Yes, so it must be, if He was propitiation for our sins. We are guilty. God could not save us in righteousness unless He made the Sinless One sin for us, so that we might become God's righteousness in Him. This, and this only, is the true answer to His "Why?" — this the sole and complete solution of the puzzle.

He appeals to God as Jehovah, not Father, because that relationship had not been brought out as it now is. The Jew did not know the Father as He is now revealed. Christ was taking the place of a godly Jew among them, so He takes up the relationship they knew… The grand principle is that He waited on Jehovah.

No one can question it: this psalm was the language of the Lord Jesus in His great sorrow as the Sin-bearer. He spoke it in those dark hours when God forsook Him for our sakes. He recalled and retold how no one had ever cried to God in vain, and no one had ever trusted in Him and been put to shame; no, not one. He alone — amazing fact — suffered in this way. But we know the reason. It was so that we might never be put to shame, so that God might deliver us when we cried, so that we might trust and not be afraid.

The Lord on the cross contrasts Himself with godly men of old. Our fathers — Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and others — trusted in God, and He delivered them. Now the Lord Jesus was forsaken by God in His sufferings, and His cries for deliverance went unheard. Was this not contrary to God's past dealings? Abraham was not perfect in his devotion to God, yet God heard his prayers. Job was known for his patience in suffering. Yet he showed much impatience with his "friends," and he confessed to the LORD, "Behold, I am of small account" (older translations: "I am vile"). God heard Job too, and delivered him.

Nothing matches the case of a righteous man being forsaken. Contrast the ways of God with all others who have put their trust in Him, and that case stands out all the more. All history proved that God delivered the fathers who trusted in Him. Righteous men have indeed suffered martyrdom. But never before had a righteous man been forsaken by God.

A long line of martyrs tells us something. As far as simple rescue from the hands of enemies goes, many have cried and were not rescued. Their sufferings only proved that they were not forsaken. Instead a power held them up and made them able for whatever they went through — a power that showed itself all the more. How many before and since have proved Paul's experience, "persecuted, but not forsaken"! Their patience was precious and acceptable to God. Yet none of these sufferers touched even the edge of the darkness of the cross — when the cry of the holy One found no response.

Suppose being forsaken by God only meant being handed over to death at the will of enemies. There was already a full record of such martyrs, those "of whom the world was not worthy." To reduce the cross of Christ to this takes out of it what makes true atonement. If this were "being made sin," then every martyr who ever died was made sin — or a sin offering — as well. The question here is not the dignity of the Sufferer, but the place where He suffered. The psalm itself declares that place to be utterly exceptional.

He accepts a place of nothingness among people. He wipes out self entirely. As "a worm and no man," He gave up every claim upon divine deliverance. This is the crowning evidence of that blessed One's perfect humility and self-denial.

He recalled and repeated what was true. No one had ever cried to God in vain. No one had ever trusted in Him and been put to shame — not one. He alone — amazing fact — suffered like this. But we know the reason. It was so that we might never be put to shame, that we might be delivered when we cried, that we might trust and not be afraid.

His trust in God remained unshaken, even when He cried, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" At the very end He had met death in the fullness of its power. Even then it is to God He cries, "Save me from the mouth of the lion! You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen" (Psalm 22:21). His trust in God to the very end was not put to shame, for His cry was answered in God raising Him from the dead.

This forsaking stands apart from anything a righteous man ever suffered. Think of the long line of martyrs. As far as rescue from the hands of enemies goes, great numbers have cried and no deliverance came. Their sufferings only proved that God had not forsaken them. He held them up and made them able for all they went through, and His power showed itself all the more in this way. How many before and since have proved Paul's experience, "Persecuted, but not forsaken"! Yet none of these patient sufferers — however precious and acceptable their patience was to God — touched even the border of the darkness of the cross, when the cry of the holy One found no answer.

It was nothing unusual for a man to suffer and die. Man has gone through almost every form of death you can imagine. But this unique Sufferer says, "I am a worm, and not a man." He went down to a depth far below that of any man at all. The word (tolaath) points above all to the small creature that gave the tabernacle its scarlet dye — and it gave it by dying. What a picture of the One before us! But this could only be true of Him as He suffered under the judgment of sin. In fact Isaiah 1:18 uses the same word for the colour of sin, and of serious sin at that. So the meaning is clearer still: "He was made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." (2 Corinthians 5:21.)

We should not forget that words are sometimes used in a poetic or figurative way. In such cases no one would seriously argue for their literal meaning. The Spirit of Christ in the psalmist, speaking of the Holy Sufferer, said, "I am a worm, and no man" (Psalm 22:6). The expression is a figure of speech, and it refers to His abandonment on the cross. And no one sees any contradiction between the "no man" of the Psalm and the Lord's own words about Himself to the Jews, "a Man who has told you the truth" (John 8:40).

In contrast to the fathers, here is One treated as less than a man. He is left to bear the full weight of man's contempt, and it comes in seven forms. (1) They count Him less than a man — "a worm". (2) They count Him of no value — "no man". (3) They hold Him in contempt — "a reproach of men". (4) The Jew despises Him — the "despised of the people". (5) He is the target of man's sneering ridicule — they laugh Him "to scorn". (6) He is the target of insult — they "shoot out the lip" at Him. (7) He is the target of mockery.

The patience and lowliness of our Lord come into view in that dark hour. As the forsaken One, He says, "But I am a worm and no man." He accepts a place of nothingness among the sons of men. He puts self completely aside. Now, as always, "Christ did not please Himself." As a "worm and no man," He gave up every claim on deliverance from God. This is the crowning proof of that Blessed One's perfect humility and self-denial. The worm is a picture of utter weakness.

He identified Himself with His people so completely that we hear Him cry, "I am a worm" (Psalm 22:6). What grace in Him who was altogether perfect! And now, raised from among the dead, He is exalted to God's right hand.

Sadly, such ridicule from man fell within the sufferings appointed for the Messiah. But it was written of Him, "All who see me mock me" (Ps. 22:7), and this Scripture reached the high point of its fulfilment at the cross. He was the Servant whom man despised and the nation hated (Isa. 49:7).

The Gospels note this wagging of the head by those passing by. They also note the very words of the psalm, used by the chief priests with the scribes and elders as they mocked Him. On the surface it would look as if the government of God gave them this reproach. In fact something else kept them from seeing the meaning of the Scriptures they were fulfilling so openly: their hardness, and their blindness to what they themselves deserved and to the holiness and mercy of God.

Here is One who is treated as being less than a man. He is left to endure the fullness of man's contempt expressed in a sevenfold form. (1) He is esteemed as less than a man — "a worm". (2) He is of no value — "no man". (3) He is held in contempt — "a reproach of men". (4) He is despised by the Jew — the "despised of the people". (5) He is an object of man's sneering ridicule — they laugh Him "to scorn". (6) He is an object of insult — "they shoot out the lip" at Him. (7) He is the object of mockery — "they shake the head."

It was not only the rabble of the street, the lowest sort, the uneducated mob that mocked Him. The chief priests and the elders had gone out to help in reproaching Him... It is astonishing that these cultured religious men quoted Scripture in their terrible blindness as they gazed at Him... In earlier times the Jewish synagogue itself had read this Psalm as speaking of the Messiah... The psalm gives the very words they would speak in front of the forsaken Sufferer, the words they would use to insult Him.

In Psalm 22 we have a totally different thing. It is Christ forsaken of God. That is not to say the people do not despise Him here. Strong bulls of Bashan surround Him. Dogs close in on Him. The assembly of the wicked shuts Him in. He felt all of it as no one but Christ could feel it. Yet what was all that next to the awful reality of Christ suffering from the hand of God — of Christ suffering for sin?

On the cross, the Lord is not unaware of the thoughts and words of the bystanders. They add to His sorrows and sufferings. He is reproached and despised by the people. They taunt Him because no deliverance comes to Him from God, though everyone knew He trusted God. The onlookers cannot see it, but in the middle of His crucifixion Christ keeps unbroken confidence in His God... Man mocked, Christ suffered, God was glorified.

He had neither reply nor reproach for the men who mocked Him... He was laughed to scorn because God did not help Him in His hour of great need. The enemy's cruel purpose was to make Him cast off His faith. Yet no complaint and no rebuke were heard in His cries as He poured out His sorrow before God.

It is astonishing that these cultured religious leaders quoted Scripture in their fearful blindness, even as they stared at Him... The wicked enemies of the great sufferer speak in that Psalm. The psalm gives the very words they would speak in front of the forsaken Sufferer, the words they would use to insult Him. The sneering chief priests, elders and scribes spoke them at the cross.

That which marks the frightful blindness of these poor priests is, that they cite the words which, in the Psalm where His death is described just as it is described here, come out of the mouth of the godless and the wicked (Ps. 22:7-8).

He is left to endure the full weight of man's contempt. It comes in a sevenfold form. (1) He is esteemed as less than a man — "a worm"; (2) as of no value — "no man"; (3) He is held in contempt — "a reproach of men"; (4) He is despised by the Jew — the "despised of the people"; (5) He is an object of man's sneering ridicule — they laugh Him "to scorn"; (6) He is an object of insult — "they shoot out the lip" at Him; (7) He is the object of mockery — "they shake the head."

There is no help for Him in His God. Others had cried in their need and been heard and answered (Ps. 22:4-5), but now righteousness is alone and unheard. His enemies read this, and in one solemn sense they read it rightly, as if God were against Him. They say, "He trusted in God" — literally, "rolled Himself on Jehovah," compare Ps. 22:8, margin with Matt. 27:43 — "let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him." They daringly claim God as on their side against His blessed Son.

Yet the scoffers around the cross meant a lie even while they spoke the truth. Their taunt charged Him with being a real impostor. God's word and human experience alike said that God had never failed to deliver anyone who truly trusted Him.

"Let Him deliver Him now." Now — with hands and feet pierced, with disciples fled, with the crowd gaping, the rulers sneering, the soldiers making fun of Him, the robbers hurling insults. Now was the moment when perfect trust, if it existed, should be proved. So they reasoned, while He endured in meekness and silence the reproaches heaped on Him.

In fact, He could not save Himself, because He could not think of Himself. The love which had saved others went further and gave Himself for us. Perfect love for His Father, obedience to His commandments, His perfect love to us, kept Him from saving Himself... If He was to save others, He could not save Himself.

"Let Him deliver Him, seeing [or, if] He delighted in Him." This was how the murderers of the Just One justified themselves in triumph. But they did not know the way or the reason of Jehovah's delight in His Chosen One. Perhaps they had even heard Him when, in riddles of judgment, He spoke in their hearing the new words of gospel promise: "Therefore my Father loves me, because I lay down my life for the sheep."

So men mistake God's patience for indifference, or for letting things pass. But God's time is not man's, and in His own time He will intervene, as He did after Christ had been crucified and buried. What a deliverance then when Christ was raised from among the dead!

Though the perfect Sufferer saw the power of man and Satan, He took the cup straight from the hand of God... He felt their "scorn," the shaking of the head, and the mockery of saying, "He trusted in Jehovah that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, since He delighted in Him."... But He told God what men said and did, and added, "You are He who took Me out of the womb: You made Me hope when I was on My mother's breasts."

The One whom men despised, and God forsook, was the only fully righteous Man. From the moment He came into this world, perfect confidence in God marked Him, for He could say, "You made Me trust, upon My mother's breasts." He was also perfectly dependent, for He could add, "I was cast upon You from the womb." And He was perfect in His subjection, for He says, "You are My God." Yet He is the only One whose confidence in God, dependence on God and subjection to God were perfect from the beginning of His life on earth to the end. And He is the One found in deepest trouble with "none to help."

The New Testament says very little about the childhood and hidden life of Jesus... Here, as He is about to lay down His holy life, His holy mind looks back over it. He goes back to its beginning, when He was a baby on His mother's breasts. He trusted in God. There was never another baby like that... In the small, helpless state of infancy, He was cast upon God. What pleasure that must have given God. Babies are not very old when they begin to show signs of self-will. A temper will display itself in the tiniest child. Never did it show itself in the Lord Jesus.

He was as absolutely dependent upon God as He was obedient to Him... He never for one moment abandoned the attitude of entire dependence upon the living God... He breathed the very atmosphere of dependence from Bethlehem to Calvary. He was the only Man who ever lived a life of uninterrupted dependence upon God, from first to last. Others have depended partially, He did it perfectly. Others have occasionally or even mainly looked to God; He never looked anywhere else. He drew everything from God, not some things or most things.

The Man Child seems to speak of His utter dependence upon God... As the Man Child He never moved from the place of dependence upon God; He did not exercise an independent will. His life was one unbroken obedience.

The care which watched over Him was unceasing from the womb to the grave. His Spirit had said so long before in the prophets: "I was cast upon You from the womb. You are My God from My mother's belly." "You made Me hope [or, You kept Me in safety] when I was on My mother's breasts." It was tireless throughout... It watched over Him that very night when the angel warned Joseph to flee into Egypt.

Christ speaks of the people's mockery of His trust in God as His unfailing Helper, but He knows that from the womb He had been chosen and preserved by God. And He still calls upon God not to be far from Him in His trouble, but to help Him, for there is none else.

Righteous men may indeed have suffered martyrdom, but never before had a righteous man been forsaken by God… Yet the One whom men despised, and God forsook, was the only completely righteous Man. From the moment He came into this world He showed perfect confidence in God. He could say, "You made me trust, upon my mother's breasts." Further, He was perfectly dependent, for He could add, "I was cast upon you from the womb," and perfect in His subjection, for He says, "You are my God." And yet this is the one Man whose confidence in God, dependence upon God, and subjection to God was perfect from the beginning to the end of His life on earth. He is found in deepest trouble with "none to help."

He was as absolutely dependent upon God as He was obedient to Him. He could say, "Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge" (Ps. 16). And again, "I was cast upon you from the womb" (Ps. 22). He never for one moment let go of complete dependence upon the living God… He breathed the very atmosphere of dependence from Bethlehem to Calvary. He was the only Man who ever lived a life of uninterrupted dependence upon God, from first to last. Others have depended partially, He did it perfectly. Others have looked to God now and then, or even most of the time; He never looked anywhere else. He found all His springs, not some of them or most of them, in God.

He was subject to His God and went His pathway trusting in Him and in devotion to Him. This was His attitude right from the beginning: "I was cast upon you from the womb; you are my God from my mother's womb" (Ps. 22:10).

But in verses 9 and 10 the Lord Jesus appeals to the fact of His own birth by the intervention of God — we know, a virgin birth. When God had so intervened in man's affairs to prepare a body for His Son, could this whole matter have ended by death and oblivion? Certainly not! He says, "From my mother's womb You have been my God." Could this change now that He is crucified?

So while He suffered for sin, our Lord confessed that His God had forsaken Him. Yet He still called Him "My God." This relationship of Jesus went back to His earliest infancy. In this very Psalm, He declares, "You are my God from my mother's womb" (v. 10). From the manger in Bethlehem right onwards, He, the perfect and blessed Man, recognised God as the One whom He obeyed and on whom He depended. But here it was a time of darkness at noon, and the difference was beyond measure. His God, in whom He trusted, had forsaken Him! And why?

He had been the dependent One from the very start, and He never turned aside from that attitude. So more than anyone He had the title to divine support, now that all others had forsaken Him. This was the hour of trouble when most He needed the sunshine of the face of God.

The One whom men despised, and God forsook, was the only fully righteous Man. From the moment He came into this world He showed perfect confidence in God, for He could say, "You made me trust you at my mother's breasts." He was also perfectly dependent, for He could add, "On you was I cast from my birth." And He was perfect in His subjection, for He says, "From my mother's womb you have been my God." Yet this One — whose confidence in God, dependence on God, and subjection to God were perfect from the start of His life on earth to its end — is in deepest trouble with "none to help."

These troubles were deep and real, but they were outward, and they came from man. From these He turns to God. Here we find the true subject of the psalm and His unfathomable suffering. He looks to God in the trials, and there was no comfort in the cup He had to drink. He prays, "Be not far from me, for trouble is near." Then, as sorrows press Him harder, He says again, "O LORD, do not be far off!" Even so, these were still only outward pressure from the hand of man. He was not stopped by them. He was going on through them to the cup which His Father was going to put into His hand.

In Psalm 22 He speaks of all the external troubles, but then He says, "Be not far from me" — the very thing He was!

There was no outlet to His grief, no comfort from man. Here we see the meaning of "Be not far from me, O my God!" Those He came to in love cast Him out with scorn. Those He came to save pressed in and closed Him in. So His soul turned to God. But God had hidden His face from Him. He now found the darkness and wrath to the uttermost. There was no response on any side: deep hatred of man around Him, and darkness from above. Everything fell away but the power of love. Love sustained Him. Love was greater than all, and it was set on us.

Well might He say: "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour" (John 12:27). So also in Psalm 22:11. He, the One who knew no sin, is to be made sin for us. He enters into all that judgment — God's own full judgment against sin and against our sins. He alone was able to bear it. He alone could measure what God is in His nature against all sin and evil. And He alone could bear the condemnation of that sin and evil in a nature as holy, in itself and forever, as the nature of the God who was judging.

Here we find the one exception in all God's ways with the righteous. One with no callousness describes the whole long agony, keenly alive and sensitive to it all. Yet through it all He turns to the God on whom He had been cast from birth, and pleads against the one sorrow far beyond all others: "Be not far from me!"

Note also the deep difference between the sufferings of Christ from man and from God. The first were for righteousness, the second for sin. The result of the first (Psalm 21) is that He will make His enemies like a fiery oven in the day of His wrath. In the second He was bearing wrath, and the result is pure blessing, and nothing else, as its fruit. (See Psalm 22:11-23.)

We now have, in seven verses, the full extent of His suffering at the hands of man. We may go over it and list the items one by one. But who can measure what it was for Him? No one ever matched Him in capacity for sorrow, or in understanding all that can be in the human heart. Yet even this was not part of the special agony that marks this psalm of atonement.

In Psalms 20, 21, we see human enemies, and judgment, but in Psalm 22 divine wrath and perfect grace. In verse 12, bulls, that is, violent men, who do their own will; in verse 16, dogs, that is shameless ones. In verse 21, the lion's mouth, that is, Satan's power over death.

In Psalm 22:12 the word behind "strong [bulls]" is abbir, meaning "mighty one." It is translated "bulls" in Psalm 50:13; Psalm 68:30; Isaiah 34:7; Jeremiah 50:11.

First we must realize the strength of these enemies. They are bulls, with lowered horns and a reckless charge — strong beasts fattened on the rich pastures of Bashan, men whom "fullness of bread" had filled with pride and insolence. Caiaphas the Sadducee was one of them. He prophesied without knowing it, moved only by the instinct of self-preservation, with eyes as blind to eternity as they were sharp about present things. He was a picture of many more like him.

BULLS OF BASHAN are figurative of strong ruthless enemies, Amos 4:1, whom God in the coming judgement on Gog will crush, and will call for the fowls and the beasts to come and feed upon their flesh and their blood, Ezek. 39:18.

Then in verses 12 and 13 we have the persecution of the Jews. The leaders of that people attacked Him with the strength and ferocity of bulls. The militant Pharisees were like strong bulls of Bashan, and because they were Satan's special agents in this, they shared his character. He bears the character of "a roaring lion."

Violence, with no restraint and full of rage, surrounded Him — bulls of Bashan, savage and roaring lions. No proud human strength met this. He had to meet it and feel it in the meekness of His nature, and to know the weakness of human nature, though never its sin, except in bearing it… But here He does not stop, and He could not stop, at second causes… The point here is His state, the dust of death. Yet He looks at the real source of it all: the thoughts and purposes of Jehovah. This is perfection in this respect. He feels fully what these enemies are and sees their character clearly, and they are only the instruments of our suffering; yet through it all He looks to the ways and wisdom and will of God.

Here is Christ forsaken by God. He is despised by the people too: strong bulls of Bashan surrounded Him, dogs closed in on Him, the assembly of the wicked shut Him in. He felt all this as no one but Christ could feel it. Yet what was it beside the awful reality of Christ suffering from the hand of God — of Christ suffering for sin? It is a sad but useful picture, this side of man. It is all the same nature; we were like that. But turn it round: what is the other side? Christ has shown what God is, and He is love, even when it is a question of our sins.

In Psalms 20 and 21 we see human enemies and judgment, but in Psalm 22 divine wrath and perfect grace. In verse 12, bulls — that is, violent men who do their own will; in verse 16, dogs — that is, shameless ones. In verse 21, the lion's mouth — that is, Satan's power over death.

Then in verses 12 and 13 we have the persecution of the Jews. The leaders of that people attacked Him with the strength and ferocity of bulls. The militant Pharisees were like strong bulls of Bashan. They were Satan's special agents in this matter, so they took on his character. Satan bears the character of "a roaring lion."

Satan not only presents himself as a serpent, but also as a roaring lion. It was in this character that the Lord Jesus met him in Gethsemane and at the cross. Nothing is more terrifying than the roar of the lion. Satan wanted to frighten the holy soul of Christ, to make Him abandon the divine path that led down to the sacrifice… At the cross he opened his mouth against Christ "like a ravening and roaring lion" (Ps. 22:13). There the Lord, in "the weakness of God," overcame "the strong man," and through death He nullified his power (Heb. 2:14). Satan comes to the children of God in the same form. "Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8). If he cannot deceive us, he tries to frighten us.

Notice the essential difference between the sufferings Christ received from man and from God. The first were for righteousness. The second were for sin. The consequence of the first (Psalm 21) is that He will make His enemies as a fiery oven in the day of His wrath. In the second He was bearing wrath. Its fruit is pure blessing, and nothing else. (See Psalm 22:11-23.)

"You have broken the teeth of the ungodly." Of course this is a figure for breaking their power to devour those they considered enemies. Psalm 22:13 shows it… and so does Acts 7:54. There the religious leaders of Israel had arrested Stephen. He had told them the truth about their whole history of refusing the testimony of God, which ended in their rejecting and crucifying the Lord of Glory. They bitterly resented that he had exposed them as actual enemies of God, and "gnashed at him with their teeth."

He says, "Save me from the lion's mouth: for You have heard me from the horns of the wild oxen" (Ps. 22:21). In that awful hour the enemy spends his full fury against Him, and He cries, "Save me from the lion's mouth." He had borne the full penalty of our guilt. He had entered into the judgment of God and exhausted it. The concentrated power of the forces of darkness, and all the evil of man, came against Jesus, and He sustained it all. When all has been borne He can say with triumph, "You have heard Me."

There is a beautiful line of truth through 1 Samuel 1-7… In the course of all this, the people are brought to repentance and confession. The sign of this is the symbolic act of spilling the water on the ground. It shows the good-for-nothingness of flesh, that all it is fit for is to return to the dust it came from. Jesus speaks of being "poured out like water," and laid "in the dust of death." (Psalm 22)

It was no proud strength of man that met this. He had to meet it and feel it in the meekness of His nature. He had to know the weakness of human nature, though never its sin, except in bearing it. He was poured out like water. All His bones are out of joint; His heart melted like wax within Him. His strength is dried up like a piece of broken pottery; His tongue clings to His jaws. But here there is no stopping, nor could He stop, at second causes. He is down in the dust of death; but Jehovah has brought Him there.

Verses 14 and 15 portray His bodily sufferings. In these, of course, He was not unique. The two thieves crucified on either side must have shared them, and so have all others who have ever died this terrible death. What was unique was His power of feeling. In Him sin had blunted no sensitivity; everything reached the highest pitch of perfection.

And He who meets all this — in what condition is He to endure it? He has come from the agony of the garden; He is facing the worse agony of the cross. Their "hour" is that of the "power of darkness," and of the forsaking of God. What strength can there be to resist, when the Father's hand itself is giving Him the cup? His "heart is melted like wax" in the sacrificial fire of wrath against sin.

So we may say the fat speaks of our blessed Lord Himself, in His unreserved and perfectly acceptable devotion to God's holy will. To accomplish that will, He gave up all the strength of His holy and perfect life in the work of the cross. Are not those words of Psalm 22 significant of this? "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."

Some Greek manuscripts leave out the word "broken" in 1 Corinthians 11:24, and so do some editors. They perhaps thought it clashed with Psalm 34:20 and John 19:36, "Not one of his bones will be broken." But in Psalm 22:14 the Lord said, "All my bones are out of joint." That would correspond to a broken body.

His soul was already poured out like water, His heart melted like wax within Him. Then came the forsaking of God. Is it not clear that this, in the condition of His soul, crowned the sorrow and completed His holy dread?

More than a thousand years before, the Holy Spirit wrote a psalm with His mind full of what was to happen upon the cross. It could not apply to David, who wrote it. It could only apply to one Person, and to that Person in one set of circumstances. It could only apply to the Lord Jesus and His sacrificial death upon the cross. Hear His lament: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd."

A fragment of pottery. Scripture compares man to it when he strives with his Maker (Isaiah 45:9). David uses the word in the Psalm that prophesies the Lord's sacrificial sufferings: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd" (Psalm 22:15).

Death is not evidence of power; it is the completion of weakness. Christ was crucified through weakness, but lives by the power of God. He came to bear the judgment which lay upon man; He tasted death in all its bitterness; He drank the cup of wrath for us and gave up His spirit. In the sorrow of His heart He said that God had weakened His strength in the way (Psalm 102). He said that His strength was dried up like a potsherd, and that He was brought into the dust of death. He felt what the weakness of death was when, forsaken of God, He gave Himself for our sins.

Here there is no stopping, nor could He stop, at second causes. He is down in the dust of death; but Jehovah has brought Him there. The point here is His state, the dust of death; only He looks at the real source of it all, at the thoughts and counsels of Jehovah. This is perfection in this respect. He felt the full character of the enemies who are the instruments of our suffering, and judged it rightly. Yet He looked through it all to the ways and wisdom and will of God.

But then He adds what God has done: "You have brought Me to the dust of death." For men could not take His life from Him (John 10:17-18), though they were guilty of crucifying Him. Laying down His life was a divine work. He laid it down of Himself, and it was just as true that God brought Him to the dust of death.

Man is in the scene, both Jew and Gentile, but only as the blind instrument for carrying out the divine will. It is from God's hand that the Lord takes the cup. "You have brought Me," He says, "into the dust of death." Here He suffers from the hand of God, and is forsaken. That is exactly why we have atonement in this psalm. In Psalm 69, for example, He suffers from man's hand, and His death is more that of a martyr. In Psalm 69, where the Lord suffers from man in his wickedness, the result is pure and unmixed judgment. In Psalm 22, where atonement is found, grace and blessing flow out in ever-widening circles, until they reach the ends of the earth.

No doubt these words express the distressing physical effect of all that mind and heart and body had endured until then. But His last request was bound up not only with His need. It also came from His undying zeal for the word, if only one thing was still lacking to make it honourable. Every word that proceeds from God's mouth must be fulfilled. Had He not said of Messiah, "My tongue sticks to my jaws," and "In My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink"?

What He wrote there we are not told, but we do know that He was going "into the dust of death" (Psalm 22:15), where He wrote a full declaration of the love of God.

Pilate and Herod had been enemies. Yet they could bury their hatred and agree together in rejecting the Son of God. The Jews had nothing but contempt for the Gentiles, whom they called "the uncircumcised." Yet they could join them in heaping insult and shame on Christ. "For dogs (Gentiles) encompass me; a company of evildoers (Jews) encircles me" (Ps. 22:16). Satan is well able to bring about unity for the accomplishment of his dreadful purposes.

In verse 12, bulls, that is, violent men who do their own will; in verse 16, dogs, that is, shameless ones. In verse 21, the lion's mouth, that is, Satan's power over death.

How completely the Cross showed what man is! "Dogs" — heartless, shameless, unclean, feeding on refuse, hunting in packs like "a company of evildoers" here. They gathered around a sight of distress beyond compare. They had no pity for it, and there was no escape from it.

The Psalm foretold the way He would die: "They have pierced my hands and feet" (verse 16). At that time crucifixion was unknown. How David himself must have wondered when he wrote those words. They did not refer to his hands. His hands were not pierced.

The bones out of joint — hands, arms, shoulders and pelvis (verse 14). The heavy sweating caused by intense suffering (verse 14). The action of the heart affected (verse 14). Strength gone and extreme thirst (verse 15). The hands and feet pierced (verse 16)… Remember that crucifixion was a Roman form of execution, not a Jewish one. The proof of inspiration is irresistible.

It is a question of reading. Cahari means "as a lion." Caharu, most likely, means "they pierced," and the difference in Hebrew is very slight. All the ancient translations give "they pierced." The Masora (the ancient Jewish record of the text) confirms it. One of the most critical Jewish scholars approves it, appealing to his own good Jewish manuscripts… What is most against "pierced," though it proves nothing, is that the New Testament never refers to it, though it refers to other parts of the Psalms. However, my own conviction is that "they pierced" is right.

A slave who was due to go free could refuse it because he loved his master; then his master bored his ear through with an awl. This is far from obedience forced by fear of punishment. The slave gladly suffers pain and sheds his blood rather than stop serving. There is no doubt that this pictures the divine Servant binding Himself to endless service of His own will, because of His love for God and for the Bride. In Psalm 40:6 He says, "You have opened my ears" — the word translated "opened," kahhrah, is translated in Psalm 22:16 "pierced" (my hands and feet).

It was they indeed who surrounded Him. They pierced His hands and His feet. But the psalm adds, "YOU have brought me into the dust of death." No human hand, no human will, no power of Satan could have bowed Him like that. Many times men filled their hands with stones to stone Him. Once the men of His own city led Him out as if to certain death. Yet He passed by, unharmed by them all. Until His appointed hour came He kept His place in safety for the Father.

"Psalm 22 is a vivid picture of death by crucifixion. The bones of the hands, arms, shoulders and pelvis out of joint; the heavy sweating that comes with intense suffering; the heart affected; strength gone and extreme thirst; the hands and feet pierced; the body left partly naked, with the shame that brings — all of these belong to that way of dying… Crucifixion was a Roman form of execution, not a Jewish one. Remember that, and the proof of inspiration is overwhelming."

I now turn to Psalm 22:17. The most ancient Hebrew reading is said to give "like a lion."… The reason for reading it as it stands in the English translation is that the ancient Jews insist it is so in the old Hebrew… The Septuagint (about a century and a half before our Lord) translates it, "they pierced my hands and my feet"; so does the Vulgate.

He was also so emaciated as to speak of His bones being visible (v. 17). And here, centuries before the Lord Jesus was crucified, He speaks of His enemies dividing His garments among themselves.

Exposed — every bone to be counted — to such eyes as these, that gaze and stare and do not flinch: not ashamed in the presence of their Judge and Maker. Parting among them the garments they have stripped from Him, and casting the lot… to decide the ownership of that seamless priestly robe which marks Him as what He is, "the Mediator between God and men," upon whom all the blessing of man depends.

Christ is an example to us in His suffering from men. I am partaker of His sufferings… He suffered also perfectly with the feeling of a man. "Reproach has broken my heart." "They can count all my bones." "They look and stare at me." Hanged up as a criminal before the world, He felt it all; and the more refined the feeling, the more sharply His disciple's unfaithfulness was felt by Him. It was love to Peter that brought him back.

The soldiers broke the legs of the robbers, but found that the Lord was dead already. They disobeyed orders, and one of them pierced the side of the Lord Jesus with a spear instead. This had to happen, for Scripture had foretold this very thing, and also that no bone of His should be broken (Zech. 12:10; Ex. 12:46). The bones, the framework of the body, speak of the basic truth about His person, which stayed unchanged and unbroken all through His dreadful sufferings.

Man is in the scene, both Jew and Gentile, but only as the blind tool that carries out God's will. It is from God's hand that the Lord takes the cup… And just because He suffers here from the hand of God, and is forsaken, we have atonement in this psalm… where atonement is found, grace and blessing flow out in ever-widening circles, until they reach the ends of the earth.

Little did the soldiers who had charge of the execution think beyond their poor extra pay. But God's eye was now, as ever, on His Son, and He had taken care in His word to mark it. One of the most clearly Messianic psalms (Ps. 22:18) holds the exact prediction, written a thousand years beforehand. It says the soldiers would take the Saviour's garments, and it points unmistakably to Him... The very smallness of what is mentioned bears witness to the accurate reality of the prophecy. He is the proven Messiah as well as the rejected one.

This is particularly striking if we take the case of the Roman soldiers — men who were unaware that the Scriptures even existed... His appearance was to be "so marred, beyond human semblance," according to Isaiah 52:14, and the crown of thorns and the beatings fulfilled this. The Judge of Israel was to be struck "with a rod on the cheek," according to Micah 5:1; this the soldiers did... Verse 24 records their fulfilment of Psalm 22:18... We think we are right in saying that at least 24 prophecies were fulfilled in the 24-hour day when Jesus died.

In verses 16-20 the Gentile opposition to Christ passes before us. Like dogs, acting without heart or conscience, they hand over to death One whom they admit is innocent. They pierce His hands and His feet. Then, with a brutal callousness that knows neither shame nor feeling, they stare at Him and gamble for His clothes.

They cast the lot — in Israel sacred to the Lord (Prov. 16:33) — to decide who owns that seamless priestly robe, which marks Him out as what He is, "the Mediator between God and men," the One on whom all man's blessing depends... Was it not, in fact, a sign of the most solemn kind — men stripping Christ of His clothing, holding Him up like that to the scorn of men? And what could suit the deed better? They took, as it were, the lot which belonged to God — the sign of His sovereignty even in what man calls "accident" — and used it to dishonour and degrade the One for whom God had decreed the highest honour.

All four Gospels tell us about the soldiers' gamble for the Lord's garments. A man's coat was his own. Under the law of Moses, even a coat pledged during the day had to come back to him at night. These clothes the soldiers gambled for were the Lord's only possessions, and even these they took from Him. How poor He became for our sakes! ... We are wary of fanciful interpretations of Scripture. But a man's garment often shows his character in Scripture. If it does so here, we suggest this garment may picture the perfect evenness and consistency of the Lord's life and character — He was everything He ever said.

Then they crucify Him and divide His garments among them, casting lots. All the while the light of prophecy shines steadily on all this, like the great Eye of God — unnoticed, yet noticing in silence, until the time comes to act... But is He not in fact providing, at His own cost, the clothing to cover men's nakedness — even for His enemies? And by divine appointment too, which the lot in Israel spoke of. Certainly this alone is how any of us can say, "He has covered me with the robe of righteousness" (Isa. 61:10).