“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34).

Only recently have I prayed to God about the cross, that it, being the central feature of the Christian faith, would become more clear to me as to its meaning. In these words I have my answer.  

Having read of the horrors of Roman crucifixion, one is aghast at what the Son of God suffered.  It brings tears to the eyes, heaviness to the heart, and a stillness to the soul when hearing of the slow, painful process of death upon a cross.  I suppose I could find the detailed explanation and post it here, but I will not, because what is heard in these words, among the last our Savior uttered, is key to understanding the real suffering of our Savior.  

Others underwent the same punishment, you see.  In fact, on that very day there were two others, both deserving.  Both experienced, far as I know, the same agony as did Jesus.  We know, however, that for these it was warranted; they were guilty of their crimes, and under Roman law this was the outcome.  

Yet our Lord was innocent.  No crime did He commit; not one sin was He guilty of.  

We heard Jesus say such things as, “Before Abraham was, I am.”  And, “Now, Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world was.”  We read the apostle John, who wrote, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the word was God.   And Paul, writing in Philippians 2,

“Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men” (5-7).

What I mean to say is that Jesus was no ordinary man; no, He was the Son of God, even God Himself.  He existed before the world was, and entered the world in the form of man just like me.  “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”  

So it was He who was hung upon the tree, being nailed to the cross.  And yes, the suffering He suffered was of the kind that few human beings have ever been subject to.  But the worst was yet to come.  

Pastor Keith Moore said something to the effect that what Christ suffered physically was a picnic compared to what He suffered spiritually.  

You see, to fully pay the penalty for our sin Jesus had to undergo precisely what you and I would have to suffer, and that is being banished from God forever.  And whereas it was impossible for Jesus to be separated from His Father forever, He was cut off from Him upon the cross.  Hence the cry, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

I do not think for a moment that Jesus was here simply quoting Scripture so as to fulfill it.  I don’t think this was a mumbled utterance, or merely a whisper.  No, but a loud cry, close to a scream, with every cell in His battered body contributing their last burst of energy.  Indeed, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the one whom Jesus only did what He saw Him doing, and only said what He heard Him saying; the one with whom Jesus was in constant fellowship–and had been from all eternity, the Father forsook Jesus, turning away His face from Him, rejecting Him.  He had become sin, and sin is a loathsome thing to God; the two, God and sin, cannot coexist.  

I do not know if Jesus knew this was coming.  He knew the cross was before Him; He knew what He had come to do; and He knew what was on the other side of it.  It was for the joy set before Him that He endured the cross, and despised its shame.  But the Father forsaking Him?

I would think Jesus knew it was coming.  He prayed that if it were possible, He would take the cup away from Him.  “But not as I will, but as You will, O God.”  Yet He has never been without the absolute closeness of fellowship with the Father.  “I and the Father are One.”  

There have been a few times when, perhaps it was an attack of the devil, or a brief lapse of faith, I have felt, albeit momentarily, separated from God.  Though not true, for maybe a split second I felt it.  Such a feeling is unbearable.  It is the most horrific feeling that could ever be felt. Even the thought I cannot bear to think.  

And I recall how awful it was to be without God before Jesus came into my life.  That too was pure agony; I was a dead man and I knew it.  The future for me was hell apart from God.  

Even if Jesus knew it was coming, that it was the ultimate price He had to pay, and even if it was to be only momentary, still, in all time and eternity there was not a more painful price to pay than for Him to be separated from the Father.  

Paul, who loved his countrymen the Jews so much the more than we do ours, wrote, “For I could wish that I myself were accursed, separated from Christ for the sake of my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.”  He was saying what was the heart of Jesus as He went toward the unthinkable.  Jesus became accursed.  And this for love.  

It is written that, “For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:7-8).  And this, the death of the cross.  

In what I am saying I do not in any way diminish the physical suffering Jesus endured.  But what I am after is understanding what He ultimately faced there hung upon the cross.  There, the Father poured out upon Him the full measure of the wrath designed for us; there, the Son of God was, like all those who do not know God will be, separated from the Father.  This, I think, is the epitome of the work.  “It is finished,” He said.  “Perfectly perfect.”  “Not only have I suffered the fate of all men, death, but the destiny of all who were doomed to eternity apart from God.  I have done this because I had to suffer the full measure of what they would suffer.  I had to experience being separated from the Father in order to pay the full penalty of sin for all mankind.”  

“Of course, it was impossible for death to hold me; it pleased the Father to crush Me, putting Me to grief.  As the result of the anguish My soul He saw it and was satisfied; I never stopped trusting Him.  Into hell I descended, like all men would, and even there I declared His faithfulness to the spirits in prison.  Even there I stole the keys of death and hell from My adversary.  And then He snatched Me up; He reunited Me with Himself.  I came back into My body which was instantly changed.  The stone was rolled away and I came out, eager to see My brethren again.  

“So it is My friend, I suffered the fate due you.  You, apart from me, would have been forever forsaken by God; but no more.  I was, for you.  Imagine, God separated from God!  You can’t.  But that I was, that I was.  And it was for you, it was for all men.”

I finish for today, feeling as though I have more or less intellectually surveyed the meaning of the Psalmist’s words, uttered by Jesus upon the cross.  Maybe, just maybe, I have touched upon it in my soul, in the depths of my heart, in my innermost being.  May it go from my head to my heart; may it sink down deep into my spirit.  May what Christ suffered for me become the be-all and end-all of everything I know and am.  Just as it is written,

“For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).

“And He has said to me, and His declaration still stands, My grace is enough for you, for power is moment by moment coming to its full energy and complete operation in the sphere of weakness. Therefore, most gladly will I the rather boast in my weaknesses in order that the power of the Christ [like the Shekinah Glory in the Holy of Holies of the Tent of Meeting] may take up its residence in me [working within me and giving me help]. Wherefore I am well content in weaknesses, in insults, in necessities, in persecutions, and in circumstances under which I am subject to extreme pressure on behalf of Christ, for when I am weak, then I am filled with ability and power” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10 Wuest).

What God said to Paul he says to me as well, “My grace is sufficient for you” – or, a Wuest renders it, “enough.”  Meaning, it is all I need no matter my needs, my circumstances, my challenges in life.  

Paul was given, by God, a “thorn in the flesh,” a “messenger of Satan.”  This, to say the least, is very much surprising. God would do that? Apparently.  But we must hear the reason:  “to keep me from exalting myself.”  Meaning, God, in giving Paul such grandiose revelations, also so loved him that He, in knowing what such spiritual experiences can do to a man, brought him down to earth by means of some sort of affliction; probably a bodily one.  Paul in turn, praying it would go away, basically received a “No” answer.  Instead, he was to rely upon the grace of God.  

I believe I am led here this morning, to the grace of God, that is, as I too am dealing with an affliction–another one.  There seems to be no let up.  So I went a looking at the grace of God, what it is, and how I too might be relying upon it.  

I learned what I suspected already, that sickness and disease are not from God but from Satan (though God, as in this case, uses both for His own purposes, not always relieving us of our troubles, at least when we want).  Vincent writes, “Satan is conceived in the New Testament as the originator of bodily evil. Thus, in the gospel narrative, demoniac possession is often accompanied with some form of disease” (see Luke 13:16; Acts 10:38, and 1 Corinthians 5:5).  

David, for example, wrote, “Before I was afflicted I went astray; but now I keep Your word.”  

The source of, and reason for, affliction is not the point, however.  Perhaps this should be said before going further:  “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him from them all.”  This, then, is the real point.  

Out from what then comes the deliverance?  God’s grace.  

Grace, as Vine would define it, is that “friendly disposition from which (a) kindly act proceeds, (it is) graciousness, loving-kindness, (and) goodwill generally; in this respect there is stress on its freeness and universality, its spontaneous character, as in the case of God’s redemptive mercy, and the pleasure or joy He designs for the recipient.”

From my limited knowledge of Scripture and the meaning of both Hebrew and Greek words, I cannot but think of how this word, grace (Greek, charis), and the Old Testament Hebrew word translated loving-kindness (chesed), are nearly one and the same.  The latter means, simply, kindness, which is, according to Webster, “that temper or disposition which delights in contributing to the happiness of others, which is exercised cheerfully in gratifying their wishes, supplying their wants or alleviating their distresses.”  

Sure sounds like grace to me.  

It is by grace we are saved.  It is not from ourselves, but of God.  

In this respect it is indeed God’s love demonstrated to us in a demonstrable way; He has chosen to be favorable to us in saving us, entirely apart from anything we may have or have not done.  

Yet there is another dimension not yet mentioned.  Strong’s defines grace in part as “the divine influence upon the heart, and its evidence in the life.”  So it is by God influencing our hearts and minds that we come to Christ.  It is an inside job.  

All of which we are to rely upon; God’s favorable disposition toward us, which, I might add, is a fact of New Testament Scripture.  Plus, His workings on this inside of us.  He is in us both “to will and to do.”   To want to do a thing, a godly thing, and then have the ability to do it.  

Put in perspective, in the context of a thorn in the flesh any of us might have, God’s grace being enough for us means that the fact of His favorable disposition toward us, His love for us, and His presence in us, no matter how we feel or what we may be going through, knowing these things about Him is sufficient for us, and ought enable us to move forward in confidence.  God is for us, so who or what can be against us?  If God has allowed a thing, even sent a thing, it is for our good.

Does this means we accept evil?  Acquiesce to sickness and disease?  No!  It means we are to rely upon God’s grace.  Do we fight these?  On all fronts.  Do we pray God remove them, manifest His healing power and virtue?  Yes. Otherwise, Christ was scourged for no good reason–and we know that is not true.  

Relying upon God’s grace means we do not rely on ourselves or others.  It is not what we do, but what He has done.  I think grace always relates to that realm of possibilities that lie way beyond ourselves.  Yet those possibilities, God’s, become ours through faith, and manifestly become ours by reason of His favor.  

It is vital that a man remain fixated on God’s heart and mind toward him.  If we believe anything about God, we must of necessity believe that He is good.  All the time, in every circumstance.  His view of us is a fact, a verifiable and unchanging truth.  We are loved, and the way this shows up is in His kindness toward us.  This is grace. 

It is enough; that is to say, it is sufficient, all we need.  

There was another lesson Paul was learning in his situation:  God’s power is made perfect in our weakness.  This too is grace.  

It is a wise man who understands his frailty; and no matter how spiritual he is, he does not boast in this, but in his weakness.  Understanding and acknowledging your weakness is key to experiencing God’s power.  Seems the weaker we are, the greater God’s power at work in and through us.  Thus Paul writes, “I am well content with weaknesses; I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”  

Who among us goes about boasting of our weaknesses?  Not many I know of; but the great apostle did.  

Receiving and experiencing God’s grace begins with our sense of need for it.  Pity the man who has no need.  I think this may well be the reason so many experience hardships in life.  It is the goodness of God leading them to repentance.  No man will go to God for salvation if he feels he has no need for salvation.   Nor will he appeal to God for His grace if he has no use for it.  So it is we can thank God we have needs, we can go to Him with these needs.  There is such a thing as the “throne of grace.”  Oh, let me forever dwell there–each and every moment of every day!  

It is in confessing our sin that we are forgiven.  It is in acknowledging our weakness that God’s power is able to get to work in us.  It is when we understand our need, that we are positioned to receive His wonderful grace.  

It is enough for us.  Sufficient.  All we need for each and every moment.  

P. S.  I just have to add this advice from Matthew Henry’s commentary:

“Prayer is a salve for every sore, a remedy for every malady; and when we are afflicted with thorns in the flesh, we should give ourselves to prayer. If an answer be not given to the first prayer, nor to the second, we are to continue praying. Troubles are sent to teach us to pray; and are continued, to teach us to continue instant in prayer. Though God accepts the prayer of faith, yet he does not always give what is asked for: as he sometimes grants in wrath, so he sometimes denies in love. When God does not take away our troubles and temptations, yet, if he gives grace enough for us, we have no reason to complain. Grace signifies the goodwill of God towards us, and that is enough to enlighten and enliven us, sufficient to strengthen and comfort in all afflictions and distresses. His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Thus his grace is manifested and magnified. When we are weak in ourselves, then we are strong in the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; when we feel that we are weak in ourselves, then we go to Christ, receive strength from him, and enjoy most the supplies of Divine strength and grace.”