The Book of Psalms

Word Study

"my God, my God," Hebrew Eli, Eli (אֵלִי אֵלִי). The psalm opens with the most sorrowful words in all of Scripture: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" These are the very words Jesus cried from the cross, in Aramaic, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" (Matthew 27:46). The dying Saviour reached back a thousand years to this psalm and made its first line His own, teaching us that the whole psalm is about Him. Yet even here faith holds: He does not say "O God" but "My God, my God", clinging in the very darkness.

"forsaken," azavtani (עֲזַבְתָּנִי), abandoned, left. What does the forsaken cry mean? It is the language of one bearing the withdrawal of God's felt presence, the outer darkness of judgment. On the cross the sinless Son bore the sin of the world, and in that hour endured the God-forsakenness our sin deserved, "he hath made him to be sin for us" (2 Corinthians 5:21). And He asks "why?", not in unbelief but as the question whose answer is the gospel: He was forsaken that we might never be.

"so far," rachoq (רָחוֹק). The cry goes on, "why art thou so far from helping me?" The distance is that same felt withdrawal of God's presence: help that does not come in the hour when it is needed most.

"roaring," sha'agati (שַׁאֲגָתִי), a deep groan of anguish. God seemed far even "from the words of my roaring". The word is no polite petition but a deep groan of anguish, the cry of one in the last extremity, and it is this that appears to go unanswered.

"Aijeleth Shahar" (אַיֶּלֶת הַשַּׁחַר), the superscription, meaning "the hind of the morning." The superscription, "the hind of the morning," hints at the outcome: after the long night of the deer hunted to death comes the morning, for this psalm of the cross ends in resurrection dawn.

Explanation

What makes this forsakenness so uniquely terrible comes clear in the verses right after the cry. The sufferer does not despair in a vacuum; he remembers, and the memory cuts deeper than the pain. "Our fathers trusted in thee: they trusted, and thou didst deliver them. They cried unto thee, and were delivered: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded" (vv4-5). There is the wound: every generation before Him who called on God was answered, rescued, never put to shame, an unbroken record of deliverance running back through all the fathers of Israel. He alone is the exception. He trusts as they trusted, He cries as they cried, and heaven is silent. "But I am a worm, and no man" (v6). Why should the one perfectly trusting Sufferer be the single soul in all history who trusted and was not delivered? Because He was bearing the very thing everyone else was delivered from. The silence that answers His faith is not the failure of the promise but the price of our redemption, He was forsaken so that the whole line of those who trust might go on being answered, "not confounded," for ever.

Gospel Focus

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?", here is the heart of the atonement. The Lord Jesus Christ, God manifest in flesh, hung upon the cross bearing our sin, and in that hour drank the cup of judgment to its dregs, enduring the forsaking that we deserved. This is a mystery to be adored, not dissected: the one God, who came in flesh as the Son to redeem us, bore in His own humanity the full weight of our curse, "made a curse for us" (Galatians 3:13). The Father did not forsake the Son because of any breach in the eternal deity, for God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself (2 Corinthians 5:19); rather the sinless One, standing in our place, tasted the outer darkness of sin's penalty so that we never would. Because Christ cried "why hast thou forsaken me?", the believer will never have to. He was forsaken that we might be accepted; He entered the darkness that we might walk in the light; He was abandoned that we might hear the promise, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee" (Hebrews 13:5). Every time your soul fears God has left you, look to the cross, where the only truly forsaken One took your forsaking upon Himself, and know that His God is now your God, and will never let you go.

Word Study

"dogs," Hebrew kelavim (כְּלָבִים), a term of contempt for the surrounding enemies. The suffering reaches its most astonishing detail. Around the sufferer the enemies close in like a pack of dogs, and then: "they pierced my hands and my feet."

"assembly of the wicked," adat mere'im (עֲדַת מְרֵעִים). The same verse names those who ringed him about "the assembly of the wicked". The preceding verses fill out the picture with equal precision: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint" (the wrenching of the body on the cross); "my strength is dried up... my tongue cleaveth to my jaws" (the raging thirst; "I thirst," John 19:28); "thou hast brought me into the dust of death."

"pierced," from ka'aru / ka'ari (כָּאֲרוּ), rendered "pierced" as the ancient versions understood it, "they dug through" my hands and feet. Consider the marvel of this. David wrote these words around 1000 B.C. Death by piercing the hands and feet, that is, crucifixion, was unknown in Israel and would not be practiced by the Romans for another thousand years; the Old Testament penalty was stoning, not crucifixion. Yet here, by the Spirit of prophecy, is an exact description of the manner of Christ's death, the nails driven through hands and feet, centuries before anyone died that way. This is not poetry stumbling by accident onto crucifixion; it is prophecy, the Holy Ghost describing Calvary long before Calvary. The pierced hands and feet are the signature of the cross, written into Scripture a thousand years in advance.

Explanation

Notice the animals closing in, for the psalm builds its terror through a tightening ring of beasts. First come the "strong bulls of Bashan" that "beset me round" (v12), heavy and horned; then "a ravening and a roaring lion" (v13), jaws open; and at last, here in verse 16, "dogs have compassed me", the scavenging pack that finishes what the lion begins. Bulls, lion, dogs, the circle grows nearer and lower, from goring horns to tearing teeth to snapping mouths at the very hands and feet. And here is the bitter irony that runs beneath it: the One in the centre has already been called "a worm, and no man" (v6), treated as less than human, while the men around Him behave as beasts. The truly human sufferer is ringed by the bestial. And of all the parts they might have struck, it is the hands and the feet, the very members that make us workers and walkers, the instruments of doing and going, that are pierced and pinned. The man who came to work our salvation and walk the way of obedience is fixed by hand and foot to a tree, so that prophecy, a thousand years early, names the exact places where the nails would go.

Gospel Focus

"They pierced my hands and my feet", these are the wounds of Jesus Christ, the marks by which the risen Lord is known forever. When the nails were driven through His hands and feet at Golgotha, this ancient prophecy was fulfilled to the letter, "they crucified him" (Luke 23:33). And those pierced hands and feet became the very proof of His resurrection: to the frightened disciples He said, "Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself... a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have" (Luke 24:39), and to doubting Thomas, "Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands" (John 20:27). The wounds that prophecy foretold and the cross inflicted are now the eternal tokens of our redemption, borne by the Lamb "as it had been slain" in the midst of the throne (Revelation 5:6). By these pierced hands we were bought: "with his stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5). Zechariah foretold that Israel shall one day "look upon me whom they have pierced" and mourn (Zechariah 12:10). The pierced hands and feet of Jesus are the price of our salvation and the proof of His victory. Look to the One whom they pierced, and live.

Word Study

"part," Hebrew yechallequ (יְחַלְּקוּ), divide, distribute. The prophecy grows even more precise. The sufferer's enemies not only kill him; they divide his clothing, gambling for it while he dies: "They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture." Notice the fine distinction, two different actions: they part (divide) the "garments," and they cast lots upon the "vesture."

"garments," begadai (בְּגָדָי), the outer clothes. At the cross this was fulfilled exactly. The soldiers took Jesus' outer garments and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier.

"cast lots," yappilu goral (יַפִּילוּ גוֹרָל). But His inner coat "was without seam, woven from the top throughout," so they said, "Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be" (John 19:23-24). The Roman soldiers, ignorant of Psalm 22, unwittingly acted out a thousand-year-old prophecy to the smallest detail, dividing some garments and gambling for another.

"vesture," levushi (לְבוּשִׁי), the inner garment, the seamless robe. John then quotes this very verse, noting it was done "that the scripture might be fulfilled, which saith, They parted my raiment among them, and for my vesture they did cast lots." Such precision proves that the cross was no accident of history but the eternal plan of God, foretold to the letter and carried out in the fulness of time.

Explanation

Stop and feel the sheer casualness of this scene, for that is its horror. A man is dying in agony, and at his feet his executioners are playing a game of dice for his clothes. His torment does not touch them; they are bored enough to gamble. It is cruelty not of rage but of indifference, and indifference at the foot of such suffering is somehow worse than hatred. And there is a grim assumption buried in the act: you do not divide a man's belongings until he is as good as gone. To part his garments and roll for his coat is to treat him as already dead, to hold his funeral while he still breathes. The dice are a death certificate signed early. So the sufferer, stripped bare and watching his own goods parcelled out, endures not only the nails but the world's verdict that he is finished, counted among the dead before his heart has stopped, every indignity foretold to the letter a thousand years before Roman hands ever touched that seamless robe.

Gospel Focus

"They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture", the stripping of Christ's garments speaks of more than the soldiers' greed; it is part of the shame He bore for us. He who clothes the lilies and covers the heavens with light hung naked and exposed, stripped of His raiment, that we might be clothed. For at the cross a great exchange took place: our Redeemer was stripped of His garments so that we might be robed in His righteousness, "he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness" (Isaiah 61:10). The seamless robe woven "from the top throughout," too precious to be torn, has been seen by many as a picture of His perfect, unbroken righteousness, which is not divided among us in pieces but given whole to every believer. Adam and Eve, having sinned, tried to cover their shame with fig leaves, and God clothed them with coats of skins, a covering that cost a life; at Calvary the Lamb was stripped that we, naked in our sin, might be covered by His blood-bought righteousness. Christ was unclothed that we might be clothed; He bore our shame that we might wear His glory. Come to Him, and receive the robe of righteousness that His stripping purchased.

Word Study

"ends of the world," Hebrew afsei-aretz (אַפְסֵי־אָרֶץ), the farthest limits of the earth. At verse 22 the whole psalm turns. The forsaken sufferer, having cried out of the dust of death, is suddenly heard and vindicated: "thou hast heard me" (v21); and He breaks into praise, "I will declare thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise thee." The darkness of the cross gives way to the joy of resurrection, and from the risen Sufferer's mouth flows a song that swells outward to the whole world: "All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the LORD: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee."

"remember," yizkeru (יִזְכְּרוּ). The farthest limits of the earth "shall remember", calling to mind the God they had forgotten; and in this psalm remembering is never idle recollection but the first movement toward Him.

"turn unto," veyashuvu (וְיָשֻׁבוּ), be converted, turn back to. Here is the fruit of the cross, the ingathering of the Gentiles, the nations turning to God from the ends of the earth.

"kindreds," mishpechot (מִשְׁפְּחוֹת), families, clans. The suffering of the first half becomes the salvation of the second; the cross bears a harvest as wide as the world, family by family and clan by clan.

"nations," goyim (גּוֹיִם), the Gentiles. And the psalm ends with a final phrase that echoes the cross itself: a people yet unborn shall be told "that he hath done this" (v31), literally "it is finished," the very words Christ spoke as He died (John 19:30). The psalm of the forsaken cry ends in a finished work and a worldwide worship.

Explanation

Watch how the praise of the psalm's second half spreads in ever-widening rings, until nothing is left outside it. It begins small and near: "my brethren... the congregation" (v22), the circle of Israel. It widens to "all ye the seed of Jacob" (v23), the whole covenant nation. Then it bursts every border, "all the ends of the world... all the kindreds of the nations" (v27), the Gentiles, the farthest peoples of the earth. And still it reaches further, in two astonishing directions no ordinary song would dare. Downward, into death itself: "all they that go down to the dust shall bow before him" (v29), even the dying and the dead are gathered in. And forward, into the unborn future: "a seed shall serve him... they shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born" (vv30-31). Out across space to the ends of the earth, down through the grave to those in the dust, and on through time to generations not yet born, the harvest of this one Sufferer's death reaches every direction at once. No one is too far, too dead, or too late. And the final words tell why it all holds together, "that he hath done this", the very sense of "It is finished" (John 19:30): the work is complete, and its reach is the whole world.

Gospel Focus

"All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the LORD", this is the harvest of the cross, gathered in by the risen Christ. The suffering of Psalm 22 was not an end but a beginning; out of the forsaken cry came the salvation of the world. The risen Jesus declares the Father's name to His brethren (v22), and the writer to the Hebrews places these very words in Christ's mouth: "I will declare thy name unto my brethren, in the midst of the church will I sing praise unto thee" (Hebrews 2:12). From that midst the gospel goes out to all nations, exactly as the psalm foretold, "that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations" (Luke 24:47), until people from "every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation" are gathered before the throne (Revelation 5:9). The kingdom belongs to the LORD, and He is governor among the nations (v28); the pierced One is now the reigning One. And the final word, "he hath done this", "it is finished", proclaims that the work of redemption is complete, needing nothing added. Because Christ was forsaken, pierced, and stripped, and rose again, a countless multitude from the ends of the earth now remember and turn to the LORD. The psalm of the cross becomes the anthem of the church: the finished work of Jesus, published to all the world, gathering worshippers to the ends of time.