Dare to Hang On One More Day
Jn 19:30; Ps 22 Holy Saturday: April 19, 2003
Intro:
I have no doubt that the Sabbath which began the day Jesus was crucified was the worst Sabbath the disciples had ever known.
It was supposed to be a day of worship and celebration. And the Passover Sabbath was especially so – focusing on the goodness and deliverance of God and on His faithfulness to His people when they were slaves in Egypt. But how could Jesus’ disciples celebrate? How could they praise God for His goodness and faithfulness, when they had just witnessed the death of the one in whom they had put their trust – the one they believed was the Messiah?
The Christian church has known this day as “Holy Saturday,” though we in the protestant tradition don’t generally recognize it as a significant part of the Easter story. It is a day about death. About hopelessness. About despair. And those aren’t themes we generally like to talk about!
I wonder why that is. They are as much a part of life today as they have been in the past. They are as much a part of our experience as they were Jesus’ disciples. And if we take the incidence of medical diagnosis of depression seriously, perhaps it is even more a part of our culture now than it has been in the past. So why don’t we talk about it?
Scripture does. The Bible talks a lot about those themes – about death and hopelessness and despair. We even find them on the lips of Jesus on the cross. How many of us would have the courage to verbalize a feeling of being forsaken by God? Many of you have felt that at one time or another – have felt that God was nowhere to be found – have been convinced that He has abandoned you – have wanted to yell “My God, why have you forsaken me!!” But we don’t, generally speaking. Why not?
I think the main reason is that we lack the courage to live authentic lives. We are afraid to feel. We are afraid to look at the reality of life, in all of its occasional harshness and cruelty. We would rather clog our existence with trivial distractions, fill every waking moment with noise, keep busy and distracted and exhausted in the vain hope that if we just ignore the reality of the pain in our lives it will somehow vanish. We go to great lengths to hide, to deny, to pretend, to choose to ignore the issues that are destroying us. And that choice to ignore handicaps our ability to confront, to change, and to live through the midst of the difficulty.
Jesus didn’t. As He hung on the cross, He allowed His agony of soul to be expressed. He said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” You might respond, “Yes, but that was Jesus. He really was forsaken – God really did abandon Him – it wasn’t just a feeling.” And you would be correct – the reality is that as Jesus hung on the cross He knew the experience of the Father turning His back and walking away. Abandoning the Son. He truly was forsaken.
But you also need to know that those words of Jesus were not original – He wasn’t the first one to call out in anguish. Those words on Jesus lips are from Psalm 22:1. Before Jesus, the psalmist expressed the exact same sentiment – “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The Psalmist poured out the anguish of his soul, expressed the reality of what he felt. And the Israelites regularly used these Psalms as they worshipped – they found their own voice and expressed in worship their lament. In fact, about one-third of the Psalms are Psalms of Lament – cries of the soul in the face of the harsh reality of life.
We need to learn how to lament like the Psalmist. We need to recognize that God not only accepts our cries of pain and lament, but in fact He has provided for us words of Scripture to articulate this. And so I want to walk though Psalm 22, the Messianic Psalm of Lament which Jesus quoted while on the cross.
The Problem: vs. 1-2
The Psalm begins with the honest statement of the problem. David feels completely abandoned by God. His prayers are bouncing back off the ceiling – even though he is pouring out his soul, day and night. He’s getting nowhere, so it seems.
Yet: vs. 3-5
Verse 3 begins with “yet”. He restates the character of God – reminding himself (and those of us who use this to express ourselves) of who God is. And then he reminds us of how God has been faithful in the past. He talks about God’s faithfulness to the previous generations, undoubtably recalling the great stories of the Israelites and the Exodus and God’s provision and all the incredible things God has done in the past.
But: vs. 6-8
David comes back to his present situation, and to how he feels at this moment. He continues to honestly let it all out, even recounting the scorn of others. He feels like nothing, less than human, a “worm”.
Yet Again: vs. 9-11
For a second time, David steps out of the present emotional mess and reminds us of God’s previous faithfulness. There is a progression here – in the first “yet” of vs 3 David remembers God’s faithfulness on a national and historical scale. But here it gets personal, recalling how God has been present to him in a personal way.
Let me recommend that to you. When you feel God is distant, and as you pour your anguish of soul out before Him, remember. Remember the way God has been active in recorded history and in previous generations. Remember times God was close personally, remember the experiences you have had of Him. Remember how good it felt to be forgiven and to experience Him come in a powerful way. Go back in those times in your mind, and relive them in the midst of the dark time.
Back to the expression of pain: vs. 12-18
For the next several verses David simply describes the situation and how it is impacting him. He expresses, deeply and poetically, his circumstances and the impact they are having on him. You’ll notice several prophetic elements that were brought to completion in the death of Jesus – the idea of being “poured out,” the piercing, the casting of lots for clothing. But in appreciating that, don’t miss the expression of the Psalmist’s soul as well. He expresses fear – great fear. A feeling of helplessness in the face of vicious oppostion. He feels weak, physically but also emotionally and spiritually and every other way. And he feels pain – great, unjust pain. And he feels free to express it to God. Without judgement, accusation, threat, or bargaining. He just tells God how he is feeling in the middle of his circumstance.
The Request: vs. 19-21
Have you noticed that we are more than half-way through the Psalm, and David has yet to ask God for anything?!? There is something important here, that I think we miss. We jump immediately in prayer to what we want God to do. Someone is sick, “Lord, heal them!” Someone is in pain, “Lord help them!” Someone is in a difficult place, “Lord rescue them!”
That is not how David prays here. It’s not how Jesus prayed or taught us to pray. Now I appreciate effeciency as much as the next person, but prayer is not the place for it. Just like marriage or parenting or being a good friend. Those things are not about efficiency, they are about relating. And so is prayer and lament – it is about relating to God. It is about an honest interaction and expression.
David does come to the point of request here in vs. 19. He lays it out simply – he asks God for what He needs, and then moves on.
The Response: vs. 22-31
In what is by far the longest section of the Psalm, the tone changes dramatically. It is hard to imagine that the first couple of verses could be in the same Psalm as these ones. So what is going on? Have the circumstances changed? Nothing in the Psalm suggests that any circumstances are any different now than before, but something has certainly changed. It is the Psalmist who is now different.
This is the key thought here: pouring ourselves out to God changes us. Prayer changes us. Lament changes us. When we come before God and in all honesty pour our hurts and emotions and needs out before His throne, we walk away different. Having let the burden out, we find it lighter. So when we hide, when we pretend things are good and fine and happy when they are not, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to experience change, to find new perspective, to know the comfort of God. Prayer changes us.
It is best to understand these verses of praise as a declaration of intent – David says, “I will praise…” He is choosing to look ahead to the answers God will provide and He expresses his intention to praise and worship. And in fact he does so in the psalm – worships in anticipation of the response of God.
It Is Finished:
In addition to quoting Ps 22, there is another thing Jesus said on the cross. “When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”
“It is finished.” From the other gospels we know this to be a “loud cry” – it is frequently interpreted as a cry of victory. But let me ask you this question: what was finished? What is the “it” that Jesus is talking about? The standard reply would be that the work of Jesus in redeeming humanity was finished. Jesus had experienced each of our sins being placed upon Him, He accepted them, and the saving work was done. The work of saving humanity was done. And I think that is a likely possibility. But let me say this: it sure didn’t look like it. It sure didn’t look finished – it didn’t look complete. In fact when Jesus says it, He hasn’t even died yet let alone be in the tomb or be raised or be exalted to heaven where He continues to work on our behalf as our intercessor. Yet Jesus cries, “It is finished.”
What is my point: the same is true in the circumstances of your life and of my life. In God’s plan, they are already finished – even when it doesn’t look like it. I believe the worst part of depression or agony of any sort is the uncertainty in the middle of it – it is the not knowing what comes next. Jesus’ words on the cross remind me that that is ok – because even though it may not look like it, it is finished. Of course there is more to do – of course there is something next – but God had it under control. And as we submit to Him, we will experience Him having it under control in our lives as well.
Dare to Hang On One More Day
Fred Musser writes of a story told him by his aging pastor:
“When my son was small, we often walked together out through the fields and neighboring pasture behind the parsonage. At first the little fellow would hold onto my little finger, but he found that when he stepped into a hoof-print or stumbled over something, his grip would fail and down he’d go in the dust or snow. Not giving it much thought, my mind on other matters, I’d stop and he’d get up, brush himself off, and grab my little finger again, gripping a little harder this time.
"Needless to say, this occurred frequently until one day as he was brushing himself off, he looked at me and said, ’Daddy?’ I replied, ’Yes, Son, what is it?’ He said, I think if you would hold my hand, I wouldn’t fall.’
Pastor Temple then turned to me and with a tear in his eye he said, "You know, he still stumbled many times after that, but he never hit the ground. Now, as you walk with God, don’t try to hold on to Him, let Him hold on to you. You may stumble but He’ll never let you fall."
We will walk through things we do not understand. We will sometimes hear God say, “It is finished!” even when it looks far from it. We will have times when we need to pour ourselves out to God, lament before Him as did David and as did Jesus. Through it all, know that God is in control. And let Him hold you through till tomorrow.
