Matthew 27:45-49 NIV

The Death of Jesus

⁴⁵ From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. ⁴⁶ About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).

⁴⁷ When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.”

⁴⁸ Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. ⁴⁹ The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.”

Jesus has always known the security of sonship.

Now as he takes on the sin of the world, he must do so alone, as an audience watches and comments.

Jesus is surrounded by a variety of onlookers, each with their own partial understanding of this moment.

The Soldiers who persecute him.

The priests, teachers, and elders, who mock him.

The crowds who wonder about him.

So as Jesus speaks the words of Psalm 22, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,” many do not know the scriptures, or the language, well enough to know that he is not calling for Elijah.

The soldiers bring him wine. Which could be to comfort him. But could also just be to revive him and prolong the spectacle. Let’s keep this guy alive long enough to see if something happens.

So their involvement in the scene is perhaps not as helpers. It’s as voyeurs. Or even instigators, pranksters, agitating a situation to see how someone reacts.

The people witness the scene with no idea what it means.

And it’s a perfect metaphor for the digital age.

Sometimes, the world discourages us with distorted shadows of things it might have seen or may have heard.

And Sometimes we are the world

In the social media era, we bear witness to far more than we ever did, watching news as it unfolds.

We consume constructed videos confidently, unconcerned about what occurred before the cameras started rolling. Or after. Or who’s filming. Or how.

We witness the suffering of people unlike us. We witness the lives of people far from us.

But the act of witness always takes place between an individual and a community.

Everyone hears Jesus cry out. They all see him suffer.

Some identify it through their limited understanding of tradition: Oh, he’s Calling Elijah

Some reach out to help or harm. Some say let’s wait and see what God does?

The question is this: As we come into contact with suffering, are we just watching, or actually helping?

Are we comforting the wounded, or skeptically monitoring to see if their pain is real?

Do we pat ourselves on the back knowing we’re not the villain but remain perfectly content to be voyeurs, or critics, rather than the agents of justice, mercy, and humility God has called, and equipped, and sent us to be?

Are we memeing people we’re supposed to be freeing? Are we righting wrongs? Or just liking and subscribing to the show?

But Jesus is nothing if not deliberate.

The words he speaks, “My God, My God” come from psalm 22. Which is a clinic in faith.

In Psalm 22, David feels abandoned as he suffers the scorn of people who ridicule his faith in a saving God. In verse 8 they say "He trusts in the Lord. Let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.” Those people, like Jesus’s critics at the cross, mock the audacity of faith, and the very notion of favor. And in so doing, they challenge David to show how an invisible God is more powerful than visible strength. Let’s see God get you out of this!

But even at this low point, David responds by encouraging himself in the Lord: “Yet you brought me out of the womb…from my mother’s womb you have been my God (vv9-10).”

David then asks God for help: “Do Not be far from me, for trouble is near, and there is no-one to help. (v11).”

And for the next eight verses, he acknowledges the reality of the moment. He talks about how strong the enemy is, and how weak he feels. He says “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint (v14).”

It seems like the enemy is winning. But David asks God for help again “But you Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength. Come quickly to Help me (v19). Deliver me from the sword…Rescue me from the mouth of the lions. Save me from the horns of the wild oxen (vv19-22).”

And then David starts to get up off the mat. And describes the praise he’s gonna give, when he wins this: “I will declare your name to my people, In the assembly I will praise you (v22).”

And then he says, all my believers, make some noise!

“You who fear the Lord, praise him!
All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!
Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!
²⁴ For he has not despised or scorned
the suffering of the afflicted one;
he has not hidden his face from him
but has listened to his cry for help (vv23-4).”:

David’s question of abandonment is a profound declaration of praise.

And now Jesus, at the moment when he appears to be the most defeated, in front of people who mock his faith, expresses words that sound like doubt, but are really saying: Read your Bible. Spoiler alert.

And then the rest of the Psalm says this is how we, the people of faith, will celebrate, when we win.

“From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly;
before those who fear you I will fulfill my vows (v25).”

He says everyone will see it: God won.

And it does not take long for the critics to be shaken. Figuratively. Symbolically. And literally.

Because Jesus cries out again, gives up the ghost, and all Heaven breaks loose.

The temple curtain tears from top to bottom, meaning that God has removed the division between himself and the believer.

The earth shakes, the tombs break open, and the Holy dead come back to life.

And some of the guards who mocked Jesus just seconds earlier now say “surely he was the son of God (v54)!”

Jesus says it. And then it happens.

With everyone watching, the abandoned becomes the champ.

And this is a word for us tonight.

Many of us have felt abandoned in the past two years, in this insane season of change, in which the rules and rhythms of our lives were disrupted and transformed.

As we found ourselves in crisis, whether it was our health, our finances, or our friendships, we looked to our crew, and found them unavailable.

We have felt abandoned by friends, by family, and everyone else.

But what if we were not abandoned at all?

What if, in fact, we were released into something greater?

What if you were released into a new understanding you would not have gained if you had stayed innocent?

What if you were released into a new position you would o’t have occupied had you stood still?

What if you were released into a new possibility you would not have seen if you had stayed safe?

If Jesus used our human logic, he would have followed the instructions of Job’s wife, cursed God and died.

But the very person that onlookers would blame was the very God who was releasing him into the destiny for which he had been born.

And like any release into destiny, there was great pain.

But what if the very person you have cursed for your pain, is the person God chose to bless you with freedom?

Because if you hadn’t been kicked to the curb you would still be living at the wrong address.

You would still be on your cross instead of wearing your crown.

So just maybe, the very people who have gathered to watch and judge us, have in fact been assembled to certify a victory.

And maybe the people we thought cursed us were unlikely instruments of blessing.

May this remind us that when we despair God is with us.

May we remember that when we are mistreated, God is here.

When we are told we are nothing, or that our faith is foolish, and everyone has something to say:

We can join with Jesus.

Look trouble dead in the eye.

And defiantly proclaim:

My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?