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Mark 15:34
These
are perhaps the most troubling words Jesus ever spoke. Everything you know to
be true about his death—that he gave himself willingly so that others might be
saved, that his crucifixion was the fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation,
that the darkness of death was overcome by the light of resurrection—all of it is
given a moment’s pause when you read those words. You cannot help but be
reminded that, though Jesus was fully divine, the Word made flesh, he was
completely human too. And in his most profound moment of human agony, he was
utterly alone.
Some
are so troubled by Jesus’s words that they seek to lessen their impact. They
point out that he was quoting Psalm 22, and that while the psalm begins with those
anguished cries for deliverance, it ends with confidence in God’s
sovereignty—maybe, they say, Jesus was offering a subtle reminder that, despite
the present darkness, God would eventually triumph. Others say he was
preaching, that his words were intended to show the gathered bystanders that
sin, which his death would conquer, creates separation between God and
humanity.
There
is comfort to be found in these explanations and others like them. They assure their
proponents that Jesus was 100% in control of the situation and everything was
going according to plan, that he was a contented martyr perfectly following the
will of a Father who never left his side. Such explanations bring order to the
chaos of the crucifixion; they make sure that the cross never feels, even for a
moment, like anything but an instrument of total victory.
But
when I read Jesus’s words—my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?—I find no
solace in these tidy rationalizations. Because while they paint a rosy picture
of a glorious king dying a noble death, in doing so I fear they rob Jesus of
his humanity. Part of the glory of Christ is that, while fully divine, he was
also fully human—he laughed, he wept, he ate, he suffered. And when he died, he
experienced something else, something all too human: the horror of abandonment.
What
a blessing in your own struggles, when you feel like no one understands and no
one is with you, to know that even Christ himself knew that uncertainty. When
your prayers are met with silence, what a relief to know that there was a day
when even God’s Son could not compel heaven to answer. The feeling of being
alone is not a pain unique to you and your plight, it is something even the
Savior experienced.
But
where the crucified Christ offers you the comfort of empathy in forsakenness, he
also offers salvation from that forsakenness. Because he experienced the terror
of abandonment, you no longer have to—the promise of the resurrection is that Christ
will be with you even to the end of the age, that you never have to struggle
alone. In Christ you have what Hebrews 4:15 calls a “sympathetic high priest”,
one who knows exactly what you are going through and advocates on your behalf.
Because he is fully human he knows the pain of abandonment, and because he is
fully divine he is able to save you from that pain.
On
the cross, Jesus cried out in desperation to his Father, “Why have you forsaken
me?” Those words should shake you, but they need not break you. May you instead
find comfort in them, knowing that the crucified Christ suffered the same fears
you do—and that the risen Christ frees you from those fears.
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