For those of you who don't know me, my name is Andrew Rimm, and I'm one of the pastoral interns here at Trinity Cambridge Church.
And tonight, it's my honor and privilege to share the word of God with you all.
Our scripture reading for tonight comes from Psalm 22.
Psalm 22, verse 1 through 18.
Let me pray for the reading of the word.
Heavenly Father, we thank you so much that you sent your only son, Jesus, the light of the world, to come into darkness and to die as the propitiation for our sins.
Lord, though we know, though we know in two days, your son will rise again.
Lord, we gather tonight to lament, to remember, to feel the gravity of what it meant for your son to be sacrificed.
And so, Lord, in this reading and preaching of your word, we ask for the power of your Holy Spirit to illuminate your word into our hearts.
To show us the majesty of Jesus.
In all his humility.
In all his being mocked and scorned.
That even as he died on the cross, we look to him in worship.
We pray all this in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Please remain standing with me as we read.
Psalm 22.
To the choir master, according to the doe of the dawn, a psalm of David.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me from the words of my groaning?
Oh, my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer.
And by night, but I find no rest.
Yet you are holy.
Enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In you, our fathers trusted.
They trusted and you delivered them.
To you, they cried and were rescued.
In you, they trusted and were not put to shame.
But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people.
All who see me mock me.
They make mouths at me.
They wag their heads.
He trusts in the Lord.
Let him deliver him.
Let him rescue him, for he delights in him.
Yet you are he who took me from the womb.
You made me trust you at my mother's breast.
On you was I cast from my birth.
And from my mother's womb, you have been my God.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near and there is none to help.
Many bulls encompass me.
Strong bulls of Bashan surround me.
They open wide their mouths at me like a ravening and roaring lion.
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.
My strength is dried up like a pot shirt and my tongue sticks to my jaws.
You lay me in the dust of death.
For dogs encompass me.
A company of evildoers encircles me.
They have pierced my hands and feet.
I can count all my bones.
They stare and gloat over me.
They divide my garments among them.
And for my clothing they cast lots.
This is God's holy and authoritative word.
You may be seated.
Imagine with me for one moment.
That one day, you suddenly lost one of your five senses.
You wake up one morning.
And upon opening your eyes, you cannot see anything at all.
Just nothingness.
Or one day, you lose your hearing fully.
You can see people's lips moving.
You expect to hear sounds around you.
But instead, there's just sonic void.
Or you suddenly lose the ability to taste or smell things.
The food that you typically enjoy eating has become completely blank, bland in flavor.
Or you lose your sense of touch.
And your motor controls.
Like walking, holding things.
Or embracing your loved ones.
It becomes incredibly difficult, if not impossible.
All your life, you know what you perceive, what you experience through your five senses.
But even if just one of those were to suddenly disappear, were to suddenly be taken away, suddenly deprived,
you would feel disoriented.
You would feel panicked.
You would feel afraid.
We take for granted that sort of familiarity in our lives.
But as soon as we experience that loss of that familiarity, fear, grief, and even pain can begin to creep in.
Tonight, our passage in Psalm 22 is a lament of loss.
David, the king of Israel, a man who's written countless psalms of praise to God,
feels a deprivation of God's presence.
A presence that he's been familiar with and known for all his life.
And so, in this psalm, he expresses his disorientation, his panic, his fear.
But he also remembers who he's crying out to.
The Lord God Almighty.
The God of Israel.
And David turns to the Lord in prayer and supplication.
And this is characteristic of the psalms of lament.
As Pastor Mark Rogop says in his book, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy,
the psalmist's complaints are not cul-de-sacs of sorrow.
Not these dead ends that make you go round and round in despair.
Rather, Godly lament, it builds bridges that leads to trust in God's character.
And so, David's lament will go from groaning to remembering and trusting in God's faithfulness in the psalm.
But Psalm 22 is also a prophetic psalm.
Realized and fulfilled in the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ a thousand years after David's life and reign.
Tonight, on Good Friday, we remember that as Jesus is drawing his final breaths on the cross,
he quotes the first line of the psalm.
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Jesus, too, experiences the deprivation of God's familiar presence as he is hanged on the tree.
And as he utters this first line of the psalm,
the rest of the psalm cascades out in prophetic fulfillment through the scenes of Jesus' crucifixion
until it is finished and Jesus breathes his last.
And so, our main point for tonight is this.
Jesus was forsaken on the cross by God the Father so that we would not be forsaken.
As we examine this psalm, I'll touch on three points.
First, our groaning to God.
Second, remembering who God is.
And third, be not far from me.
David begins his psalm with the following line,
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
We don't know the specific time and place in which David composed this psalm.
However, with just these first words, we see the great distress that David is in.
He is scorned and despised by those around him,
surrounded and threatened by his opponents,
and to his dismay, seemingly forsaken and abandoned by God.
The repetition of the phrase,
My God, my God, has significant meaning in this opening.
First, repetition in the psalms characterizes intense emotion, intensifying emotion.
It's like when we repeatedly say,
Oh no, oh no, oh no,
more and more urgently when something has gone horribly wrong.
David is not just simply sighing at some mild inconveniences in his life.
He's crying out intensely to his God in extreme agony.
In many cultures, grieving is expressed with that outward intensity.
For example, in the Korean tradition,
there's this type of lamentation called
Shinse tariong
that involves the beating of one's chest,
rhythmic wailing and singing,
grieving over the losses and hardships of life.
And many other cultures have similar emotions of beating the chest,
tearing clothes, singing and wailing as an expression of their grief.
And so in similar fashion,
we can imagine the first lines of Psalm 22,
beginning not with a quiet, introspective murmur,
but with a passionate and zealous cry,
My God!
Why have you forsaken me?
Second, this repetition shows us
that while David feels forsaken by God,
he does not forget his relationship with God.
This is not a God who David knows vaguely as a mere acquaintance.
This is my God.
My God who I have had a relationship with.
David could have just written,
Oh God of Israel,
why have you forsaken me?
But he cries out to the one who was relationally close to him,
You are my God.
You're who I turn to.
Why have you forsaken me?
And even when it seems like God is far away and not answering him,
David cries out,
day and night,
uttering words of groaning to the Lord.
These weren't grumblings of prideful,
entitled dissatisfaction against God,
but rather groanings of pain and sadness,
pleading to find reprieve from his deep troubles.
And yet David hears no answer,
no inclination of salvation from his woes.
For David, who spent his years communing with God
and enjoying his presence,
this is an unfamiliar and disorienting new reality.
It's excruciating that he receives no answer,
no response to his pleas,
no reason to his why.
David's anguish continues in verse 6.
In the previous verses,
David remembers how his ancestors too
once cried out to the Lord,
and he rescued them out of their troubles.
And yet, here David is,
without an answer from the Lord for his own hardships.
David feels minimized,
less than human,
because God is absent from him,
leaving him to be the object of scorn and disdain from the people.
David was aware,
as we see in many of his other psalms,
that God is great.
God is far greater than humans could ever be.
But in this moment,
David feels his own littleness,
not because of God's greatness,
but because of his absence.
Without God,
David feels subhuman,
the lowest of the created order,
like a worm squirming in the earth,
a worm that spoils and rots everything
from manna to dead bodies,
much to the repulsion of the people.
Picture the scene in verse 7 and 8 for a moment.
David, King David,
a man after God's own heart,
is collapsed on the ground in a heap,
disheveled and broken,
crying out to the Lord for help.
The people surrounding David leer over him.
They mock him with their words.
They insult him with their facial expressions
by making mouths at him
and wagging,
shaking their heads at him in derision.
Look at this joke.
How pathetic.
He says he trusts in the Lord,
then let God deliver him.
Yeah, that's right.
Let God rescue David,
since he says he delights in him.
The mockers jeer at David,
essentially challenging him,
where is your God now, David?
Brothers and sisters,
the reality is that we too
will be on the receiving end of mocking,
belittling, and despising for our faith
if we haven't already.
Have you ever been made fun of
for trusting God?
Have you ever been mocked by your peers
for avoiding drunkenness and debauchery,
being called a prude,
a goody two-shoes,
or a straight-up loser?
Have you ever been reprimanded by your family,
being told that you're wasting your weekend
by going to church on Sundays
when you can be networking
and applying yourself toward your career?
In the moment,
these insults,
the scorn,
it stings and hurts.
But when we remember
why we fight these temptations,
why we gather every Sunday for worship,
and who we do it all for,
we're reminded that we serve a God
who was,
who is,
and who always will be faithful
to his people.
And that's what David does.
Amidst his groaning and his agony,
David remembers who God is
and what he has done
to exemplify his faithfulness.
David pivots his focus
from his present troubles
to God's holiness,
his kingship,
and his praiseworthiness
in verse three.
Yet you are holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
The phrase yet you
indicates that there is
a contrast being made here.
Even though David is not hearing God
answer his cries,
he still remembers
what he knows to be true about God,
that he is holy,
that he is enthroned and sovereign,
and that he is worthy of praise.
David sheds further light on this
in the following verses four and five.
In you our fathers trusted,
they trusted and you delivered them.
To you they cried and were rescued,
in you they trusted
and were not put to shame.
David remembers how his forefathers
trusted in God,
and God heard their cries
and rescued them,
not putting them to shame.
While David doesn't reference
any specific instances
of God's deliverance,
the Exodus narrative
may come to mind
as a prime example
of God rescuing his people.
Exodus chapter two,
23 to 25 says,
the people of Israel groaned
because of their slavery
and cried out for help,
and God heard their groaning,
and God remembered his covenant
with Abraham,
with Isaac,
and with Jacob.
God saw the people of Israel,
and God knew.
God heard the cries
of the Israelites
in their slavery
and rescued them
out of Egypt.
David could probably remember
many other examples
of God's faithfulness
to help his people.
In the wilderness,
on the way to the promised land,
as the Israelites
conquered the promised land,
the judges sent by God
to deliver Israel
from oppression,
the kings he established
to rule and govern
over Israel,
in all these things,
God had revealed himself
as a holy God
set apart from all things,
a sovereign God
ruling over the nations
and dealing with enemies
with justice,
and a praiseworthy God
worthy of worship
and reverence
by his people.
David reminisces
of what God
has done in the past,
and yet,
that is not what he
has been experiencing
in the present.
David's been feeling
the pain,
he's been feeling
the suffering,
and he's been crying out
to God to save him,
but God
is not answering.
While God saved Israel
and was the object
of their praise,
God seems to have
abandoned David
and is the object
of his interrogations.
Why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far
from saving me?
David pivots again
from present despair
to faithful remembrance
in verses 9 and 10.
Yet you are he
who took me from the womb.
You made me trust you
at my mother's breast.
On you was I cast
from my birth,
and from my mother's womb
you have been my God.
This time,
David contrasts
his grieving
over the people's
mockery of him
to remembering
God's care
and provision
for him.
David reflects
on how God
was his caretaker
and providence
since before birth,
and how David
was made to trust
in God
since infancy.
Just as God
was a close
and relational God
to David's fathers,
God has also been
close and relational
to David
for all his life.
And that's what makes
his abandonment
of David now
all the more painful,
all the more confusing.
There's something
so genuine
about David
as he oscillates
between lamenting
over his situation
and remembering
who God is.
He does this
back and forth,
back and forth.
David could have
so easily
written this psalm
in neat,
separate compartments,
a stanza
dedicated to his agony,
a section dedicated
to God's faithfulness,
but instead,
David,
he depicts
the raw emotions,
the real-time
internal dialogue
that he's having,
that he's going through
as he processes
his pain
and grief
juxtaposed
to his memories
of who God is.
He feels forsaken
and abandoned
by God.
But then he remembers
how God
has been so good
and so faithful
to his people
for generations.
But still,
the mockery,
the derision
of his peers
makes him feel
small and weak.
But then he reflects
on how God
has been so close,
has been his help
and his providence
from birth.
How do we lament?
How do we bring
our grievances
to the Lord?
When we bring
our own burdens
to the Lord,
we too will most likely
go back and forth,
back and forth
from groaning
about our circumstances
to remembering
God's character.
Maybe some of you
are currently discouraged
from being
in a long period
of waiting
for job prospects.
Lamenting to the Lord
can look like this.
Lord,
I'm so discouraged
from not being able
to get that job.
Why am I not wanted?
And yet,
I'm reminded
of how you've been
so good to me
amidst my job search.
You've provided
all that I need
plus more,
and I thank you
that I lack nothing.
But still,
each day
that I don't hear back
from job opportunities
feels like a day wasted.
I feel unproductive
and tired,
and I'm not sure
how much longer
I can wait.
Yet you,
Lord,
are my comfort,
and you've brought me
hope and refreshment
through your word
every day,
and I will trust
in that.
Some of you,
maybe,
are hurting
and lamenting
over the loss
of loved ones.
I remember
when my grandma
passed away
a couple years ago.
My grief
came in waves
to the Lord.
I remember
crying for days
when I found out
she passed,
and I felt helpless
that I couldn't
make it out to Korea
to be with my family
to mourn.
But I was reminded
of God's faithfulness
in my grandma's life
and was thankful
that she was a woman
of faith,
constantly praying
for me
and reading,
reciting scripture
even as her memory
started to fade
and even as her body
grew weaker
and weaker.
And yet still,
there would be days
where I dearly missed her,
and I was sad
that I wouldn't be able
to see her anymore.
But I found comfort
in knowing
that I will see her
again one day
when we meet
with the Lord
and that even in death,
God is working
all things together
for good
for those who are called
according to his purpose.
While we don't
always understand
the whys of our griefs
and troubles,
like David,
we can endure the suffering
by clinging to what we know
about our God,
who is eternally unchanging,
who is always good
and forever faithful.
2 Corinthians 1,
3-4 attests,
Blessed be the God
and Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of mercies
and God of all comfort,
who comforts us
in all our affliction,
so that we may be able
to comfort those
who are in any affliction
with the comfort
with which we ourselves
are comforted by God.
We can believe
this trustworthy word,
that God will comfort us
in all our afflictions,
no matter how painful
they may be.
And when we trust
in the Lord,
we are able to endure
and we're able
to boldly let our requests
be known to him.
And we see David
do exactly that.
He casts his trust
onto the Lord
and he appeals
to him.
He appeals to God
after remembering
who he is.
David cries out
in verse 11,
Be not far
from me.
This is David's request,
a solution
to his main concern,
his main struggle,
his feeling abandoned
by God.
Be not far from me.
Draw near to me,
O God.
All of this
is bearable,
the mockery
of the people,
the suffering
and rejection
when you
are with me.
David has felt
the comfort
and confidence
of being in God's presence
in the past.
In 1 Samuel 17,
before he fights
and kills Goliath
of the Philistines,
David says
to the doubting
King Saul,
The Lord
who delivered me
from the paw
of the lion
and from the paw
of the bear
will deliver me
from the hand
of the Philistines.
David prevailed
even when it seemed
like the odds
were against him
because God
was with him.
But now,
with God's absence
in his life,
David feels
the fear
of his troubles
assailing him
and he pleads
to God,
Be not far
from me
for trouble
is near
and there is
none to help.
Many bulls
encompass me,
strong bulls
of Bashan
surround me.
Bashan
was a region
that God
had set aside
in the promised land
for the Israelites
to inhabit
in Deuteronomy.
The fertile land
of Bashan
was known
for raising up
healthy cattle,
hence
the strong bulls
of Bashan.
However,
the king
of Bashan,
Og,
fiercely opposed
Israel
in the promised land
and its strength
and its size
made him
a formidable enemy.
And so,
the enemies
who surrounded
David
were like
the strong bulls
of Bashan,
powerful and fearsome,
intimidating David
with their open mouths
like a ravening
and roaring lion.
David compares
his enemies
to other animals
in verse 16.
for dogs
encompass me.
A company
of evil doors
encircles me.
They have pierced
my hands
and feet.
Like ferocious
wild dogs,
David's enemies
circle him,
ready to enact
evil upon him.
In fact,
they've already
done David harm
by piercing
his hands
and his feet
like fangs
that sink
into flesh.
And the effects
of such affliction,
the effects
of these attacks
are described
so vividly.
Verse 14,
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.
David is physically
collapsing
from his afflictions
like water
that cascades down.
When bones
are out of joint,
they have no way
to be held together
and eventually
fall apart.
Wax that is held
to a flame
can no longer
hold itself up.
It's melted.
And all this imagery
shows how weakened
David has become.
My strength
is dried up
like a pot shirt.
My tongue sticks
to my jaws
like a dried up
piece of pottery
that's been sitting
in the oven
for too long.
He's weakened
and frail
to the point
that his tongue
is dehydrated
and parched
and it sticks
to his mouth.
And David says to God,
you lay me
in the dust
of death.
God had formed
Adam
by the dust
of the earth.
And when Adam
and Eve
had sinned
against him
in Genesis 3,
God curses
humanity saying,
for you are dust
and to dust
you shall return.
David is cognizant
that he,
along with all
of humanity,
will suffer
the consequences
of Adam's curse.
He does not
blame God
for this
near-death experience,
but he recognizes
that God
is the sole sovereignty
over life
and death.
And it's by God's will,
by his will,
David has been
laying
in the dust
of death.
And so David,
dried up
and emaciated,
he can count
all his bones
from how thin
he has become.
And rather than pity him,
his tormentors stare
and they gawk
at David
like he's a circus act
or a caged animal.
And they continue
to gloat over him
and mock him
in his tortured state.
And like spoils of war,
his enemies begin
dividing his garments
between themselves,
casting lots
for his clothing
as if David
had already died.
It's truly
a gruesome
and harrowing scene.
And once more,
we see in verse 19
that David cries out
in desperation,
but you,
oh Lord,
do not be far off.
Oh, you,
my help,
come quickly
to my aid.
Psalm 22
at its core
is David's lament
to God
because he felt
forsaken
and abandoned
by him.
He cries out
because he can't
perceive God's presence
amidst suffering
and he desires
for God
to be near
to him
as the comforter
and deliverer
of his troubles.
And if we were
to read the rest
of the psalm,
which we won't do
tonight,
we will see
that God
did not abandon
David.
God delivered
David from his enemies
and tribulations
and David was able
to feel
and enjoy
the presence
of God
and his life
once more.
But like I said
before,
Psalm 22
is not only
a reflection
of David's
experience
of suffering.
Psalm 22
is also
a remarkably
specific
prophetic psalm
fulfilled
through the suffering
and death
of Jesus Christ.
So much
of Psalm 22
was realized
through Jesus'
crucifixion
and the gospel
accounts will
attest to this.
Like David,
Jesus was
scorned
by mankind
and despised
by the people.
As Jesus
was crucified,
Matthew 27
39 says
that those
who passed
by derided
him,
wagging their
heads.
The scribes
and elders
mocked Jesus
in the same
way David
was mocked.
Matthew 27
43,
they said,
he trusts
in God.
Let God
deliver him
now if he
desires him.
Just as
the evildoers
encircled
David
and pierced
his hands
and feet,
our Lord
Jesus was
pierced in
his hands
and feet
to hang
on the cross
as he was
surrounded
by his enemies.
And as he
hung on that
cross,
his body
began to
collapse,
his bones
straining away
from their
joints,
his heart
progressing
to failure,
his mouth
drying up
only to be
fed sour
wine to
slake his
thirst.
Those who
crucified him
cast lots
to divide
his garments,
his robes
among themselves.
And once
Jesus breathed
his last,
they pierced
his side
and he was
poured out
like water.
And finally,
he was buried,
laid in the
dust of death.
Hauntingly
specific.
This could
not have
been premeditated
or staged
and yet
each of
these elements
of Psalm
22 were
precisely
fulfilled
through
Jesus'
death
on the
cross.
And at
the climax
of his
crucifixion,
the cry
of forsakenness
comes to
its fullest
prophetic
realization
in Jesus.
In Psalm
22,
David cried
out,
my God,
why have
you forsaken
me?
Because he
felt abandoned
by God.
But our
Lord and
Savior,
Jesus,
cried out
the very
same thing,
my God,
why have
you forsaken
me?
Because on
the cross
he was
truly
forsaken
by God.
And Jesus
was forsaken
by God
on the cross
so that we
would not
be forsaken.
If God
is an
infinitely
holy
and good
God,
then any
transgression
or infraction
against him
is an
abomination
to him.
And if
God
is an
infinitely
just
God,
then any
sin
committed
against
him
will
not
go
unpunished.
That is
why the
consequence
of Adam's
rebellion
was the
curse of
death.
The wages
of sin
is death,
eternal
separation
from God.
And so
all of
humanity
in our
sinful
nature,
we've all
fallen short
of God's
holiness,
his glory,
and we
deserve the
divine wrath
and divine
justice of
God.
But God
in his
great love
and mercy
gave his
one and
only son,
Jesus,
to die
on our
behalf.
Jesus,
the perfect
son of
God,
the perfect
son who
was in
eternal
fellowship
with God
the Father
and the
Holy Spirit,
humbled
himself by
taking on
human flesh
to be
despised
and rejected
by men,
to be
betrayed
by his
closest
friends,
and to
be subjected
to the
most
humiliating
death
of
hanging
on a
cross.
2 Corinthians
5.21
says,
for our
sake,
he made
him to
be sin
who knew
no sin
so that
in him
we might
become
the
righteousness
of God.
This was
the Father's
will.
God's
will.
This was
all part
of the
plan
for
redemption.
Jesus,
the spotless
lamb who
never
sinned,
in perfect
obedience,
carried the
weight of
our sin
upon his
shoulders
and bore
the divine
wrath of
God,
the abandonment
and forsakenness
that we
deserved as
the propitiation
for our
sins.
Ephesians
chapter 2
verse 13
says,
but now
in Christ
Jesus,
you,
you who
were once
far off
have been
brought near
by the
blood of
Christ.
David's
cry for
help,
for God
to not
be far
off from
him,
is fulfilled
for all
of humanity
through the
blood of
Christ.
We who
are far
off,
we're
alienated
in our
sin and
rebellion,
are brought
near to
the throne
of grace
that we
can be in
God's
presence and
this could
only be
accomplished
by Jesus
being forsaken
by his
father.
How great
the pain
of searing
loss.
The father
turns his
face away.
God
didn't turn
his face
away because
Jesus'
crucifixion
was too
gruesome,
too horrific
to look
at.
This is
a personification
of God
abandoning
and forsaking
his son,
Jesus.
Jesus,
in bearing
that divine
wrath,
was truly
forsaken
by God.
In order
to take
all of
our sins,
past,
present,
and future,
and atone
for them
fully,
the son
of God
had to be
crushed
by the
father.
Jesus
wasn't just
feeling
forsaken
on the
cross,
as David
did in
his
sufferings.
as theologian
Herman
Boving
puts it,
Jesus
experienced
an objective
God
forsakenness
at Calvary.
His
feeling was
not an
illusion,
not based
on a
false
view of
his
situation,
but
corresponded
with
reality.
Jesus
was really
forsaken
by his
father,
and who
Jesus
closely
called
my
father
throughout
the
gospel
of
Matthew
has
now
become
more
distant,
my
God.
Of course,
the relationship
of the
triune
God
was not
severed
on the
cross.
Jesus
continues
to be
the second
person
of the
holy
trinity,
but in
that
moment,
Jesus
truly
experienced
separation
from his
father,
and he
truly died
in his
human
nature,
and in
doing so,
Jesus
both expresses
the
horrors,
the horrors
of the
separation
from God,
and yet
he also
fulfills
the will
of his
father by
crying out,
my God,
why have
you forsaken
me?
And it's
because Jesus
went through
such forsakenness
on our
behalf that
he is able
to also say
triumphantly
with his
final breath,
it is
finished.
17th century
English
spirit
and
Thomas
Brooks,
he sums
up why
Jesus'
crucifixion
is so
significant
to the
Christian.
He says,
the more
we ascribe
to Christ's
offering,
the less
remains of
ours.
the more
painfully
that he
suffered,
the more
fully
are we
redeemed.
The greater
his sorrow
was,
the greater
our solace.
His
dissolution
is our
consolation,
his cross
our comforts,
his annoy
our endless
joy,
his distress
and soul
our release,
his calamity
our comfort,
his misery
our mercy,
his adversity
our felicity,
and his
hell
our heaven.
Church,
in two
days,
we will
celebrate
Christ's
resurrection,
the triumphant
defeat over
sin and death
in the grave.
But we
cannot feel
the insurmountable
joy of
Easter Sunday
without
understanding,
without
remembering,
without lamenting
over the
overwhelming
agony of
Good Friday.
Good Friday
is only good
because our
Savior was
forsaken.
so that
we would
never
be
forsaken.
What an
incredible
work of
love and
mercy from
our
King.
Let's
pray.
Oh,
Lord,
oh,
Lord,
our rock
and our
Redeemer.
It should
have been
us,
Lord.
It should
have been
us to
bear the
weight of
our sin,
of our
guilt and
shame.
It should
have been
us
to be
forsaken
by our
God,
for our
sinfulness,
for our
rebellion
against
him.
But you,
Lord,
have been
so infinitely
gracious and
kind that you
would send
your son,
Jesus,
to die
for us.
Lord,
we'll never
know how
painful it was
to bear all
that burden.
Lord,
help us to
be a
people who
turn to
you amidst
our lament.
Help us to
look at the
cross as we
remember your
death,
to see the
gravity,
the weight of
your sacrifice
on behalf of
us.
in your
holy and
gracious name
we pray.
Amen.