Psalm 22
Preaching
A Journey Through the Psalms: Reflections for Worried Hearts and Troubled Times
Preaching the Psalms Cycles A, B, C
The opening words of this psalm are etched in the minds of millions of people. They are so familiar that even non-Christians who lack any substantive grip on the faith will nod in recognition when they hear them.
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Of course, the words stay in memory because they are uttered at a high point in the Holy Week drama. The sacrifice is made, the step is taken, but more than the drama is the fact of our universal ability to identify with the words.
After all, nearly anyone hearing this story can identify with a sense that God has abandoned them. As humans endure suffering across the spectrum of existence, this experience echoes in the heart. After a crushing loss, in the wake of a devastating illness, in the waves of grief after a divorce, or in the maw of grinding poverty, it is easy to feel that the holy one, the one who could wiggle a finger and change it all, has simply packed up and left town. Indeed, even as the computer keys clack out these words, Christians from across the globe continue to wrestle with the question of how a loving God can allow suffering.
But the truth is that God doesn't allow suffering at all. It is, perhaps, our idolatrous insistence on imagining God as one of us that allows us to fall into the foibles of such a discussion. The reasoning goes like this. As a parent, who would allow a child to suffer the vagaries of cancer or sexual abuse? Of course, no loving parent would tolerate that. Therefore our Daddy God, who could wave a wand and stop it all, must be cruel. But God isn't like us. Scripture reminds us that God is God: far more awesome and huge than we can comprehend.
So it is that we abandon the finger wagging at God and come to this beautiful truth. It is in the depths of it all that God is most present. Whether it is on the cross or in a hospital bed, in a war zone or a dirty back alley, God accompanies us in our suffering and walks through every moment of our agony with us.
On this day of crucifixion it isn't a God of cruelty we see, but a God of accompaniment; a God who goes through it all as one with us.
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Of course, the words stay in memory because they are uttered at a high point in the Holy Week drama. The sacrifice is made, the step is taken, but more than the drama is the fact of our universal ability to identify with the words.
After all, nearly anyone hearing this story can identify with a sense that God has abandoned them. As humans endure suffering across the spectrum of existence, this experience echoes in the heart. After a crushing loss, in the wake of a devastating illness, in the waves of grief after a divorce, or in the maw of grinding poverty, it is easy to feel that the holy one, the one who could wiggle a finger and change it all, has simply packed up and left town. Indeed, even as the computer keys clack out these words, Christians from across the globe continue to wrestle with the question of how a loving God can allow suffering.
But the truth is that God doesn't allow suffering at all. It is, perhaps, our idolatrous insistence on imagining God as one of us that allows us to fall into the foibles of such a discussion. The reasoning goes like this. As a parent, who would allow a child to suffer the vagaries of cancer or sexual abuse? Of course, no loving parent would tolerate that. Therefore our Daddy God, who could wave a wand and stop it all, must be cruel. But God isn't like us. Scripture reminds us that God is God: far more awesome and huge than we can comprehend.
So it is that we abandon the finger wagging at God and come to this beautiful truth. It is in the depths of it all that God is most present. Whether it is on the cross or in a hospital bed, in a war zone or a dirty back alley, God accompanies us in our suffering and walks through every moment of our agony with us.
On this day of crucifixion it isn't a God of cruelty we see, but a God of accompaniment; a God who goes through it all as one with us.
