Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Why Have You Forsaken Me? (Holy Week Devotional)

“At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?””

- 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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