Jesus’ Last Words: My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

The crowd had dwindled and fallen all but silent. Three hours after the nails ripped through Jesus’ flesh, those who remained at Golgotha were settled in for the long haul. Already from the cross, Jesus had offered forgiveness to those who crucified and mocked him, showing us that his forgiveness is available to everyone, and he had provided for his mom, showing that we should be mindful of others, no matter what is going on with us at the time. As midday approached, though, something remarkable happened.

In Matthew 27:45, we read that, “from noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over the whole land.” Scholars debate just how extensive “the whole land” was, but numerous sources, both Christian and secular, confirm that it happened. For example, Dionysius, a prominent member of the Areopagus of Athens who was converted by Paul in Acts 17 noted in his autobiography that he was converted 14 years after witnessing this darkness while studying in Egypt. We also know that it was not a solar eclipse since the crucifixion happened at the Passover, which corresponds with a full moon, and eclipses can only occur during new moons. This, then, was a supernatural darkness similar to the plague which struck Egypt in Moses’ time. In Exodus 10:21, that darkness was described as “a darkness that can be felt,” and one can imagine this darkness was similarly palpable. Indeed, as it descended on Golgotha, so also did a profound silence because, for three hours, no one said or did anything.

Then, in Matthew 27:46, “Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lemá sabachtháni?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'”

It was quite possibly the most gut-wrenchingly bitter of Jesus’ seven statements from the cross. It was also probably the most profound because, in this haunting question, we find three significant truths.

Jesus gets despair.

The first is that Jesus gets despair. Some of my readers will know exactly what I mean. When the circumstances of life pile up to the point that we find ourselves truly in real and earnest despair, the shadow cast over us can be thicker, more tangible than any night on record. We feel as though we are at the bottom of a hole so deep and dark that we cannot even see the light at the top, and that darkness crushes down upon us with such force that it becomes difficult to breathe, let alone speak.

Yes, we understand despair. In fact, the National Institute of Mental Health reports that at least 6.7% of adults in the US experience at least two weeks of incapacitating despair during any given year. Put another way, 15.7 million adults, not to mention teens and kids, experience a major bout of depression each year. It is a tremendous irony, then, that, when we are in that despair, at the bottom of the hole being crushed by the dark night of the soul, it feels as though no one else can possibly understand.

Yet, in the bitterness of Jesus’ cry from the cross, we can feel the despair. Matthew tells us that Jesus cried out with a loud voice, desperate for anyone to hear, and he goes on to record Jesus’ words in both the Aramaic language that Jesus actually uttered and the Greek language Matthew’s readers understood. Clearly, he wanted everyone to experience the depth of Jesus’ pain, but why?

The fact that Jesus was experiencing despair was a big deal. Until this point, God had experienced grief. For example, in Genesis 6:6, “the Lord regretted that he had made man on the earth, and he was grieved in his heart.” He had experienced anger, including in Deuteronomy 4:21, where Moses complained, “the Lord was angry with me on your account.” So also, he had experienced pleasure. For instance, in Genesis 8:21, “the Lord smelled a pleasing aroma.” Of course, he understood despair in a theoretical sense because he created it and knew what it was supposed to feel like, but God had never really experienced despair for himself.

As he hung on that cross, however, Jesus understood. He got it. And because he did, whenever we find ourselves going through depression and despair, we can rest assured that Jesus gets it.

Jesus gets estranged.

A second truth revealed in Jesus’ cry from the cross is that Jesus gets estranged. You see, throughout Matthew’s gospel, Jesus used “Father” whenever he was talking to God. This included Matthew 11, where, after denouncing the current generation for its unwillingness to listen to him, Jesus praised his Father for allowing some to “get it.” So also, in Matthew 26, the night before the crucifixion, Jesus prayed three times in the garden to his Father. In fact, he even taught his disciples in Matthew 6 to pray, “Our Father…”

Here on the cross, however, we see a striking change. In Gethsemane, Jesus prayed, “My Father,” but now, he called, “My God! My God!” The significance of this language shift is found in the fact that Jesus prayed twice in Matthew 26 – in verses 39 and 42 – that, if there was any other way to accomplish the mission of providing salvation for mankind, his Father would go that way instead. In other words, Jesus did not relish the notion of being stripped, beaten, and pierced. He did not like the idea of going to going to the cross, but the cross was the only plan from before time began. Thus, while Jesus was committed enough to call on his God, he was not happy enough to call on his Father.

Again, we understand this. Some of us do not like what God has called us to do. Some of us are frustrated with him for calling. We may still be committed, but there is a gulf between us and God. We feel distant from him, and there is a tension between what he wants and what we desire. It is therefore good news that Jesus gets estranged.

Jesus gets forsaken.

This estrangement, though, was a springboard into something even darker. You see, Jesus did not just feel estranged from his Father. He felt forsaken, and who could blame him?

Earlier in his ministry, people flocked to Jesus. Who can forget the time he fed 5,000 men, plus women and children? However, they were all gone. In fact, just hours after his 12 disciples vowed to never flee him, even they fled from Gethsemane. Now, all that remained at the foot of the cross were his mom and a handful of women.

So also, from before the beginning of time, the Son had co-existed with the Father and the Spirit. When he was baptized, and again at the Mount of Transfiguration, the voice of God spoke audibly with him. He had done miracles and been tended by angels, but now, in his greatest hour of need, the sky went dark as the Father turned away from the sin of the world that was placed upon Jesus.

For the first time in eternity, Jesus felt utterly alone, utterly forsaken, and if you have ever experience a similar feeling, there is tremendous comfort in knowing that Jesus gets forsaken.

Truly, the fact that Jesus understands despair, estrangement, and forsakenness is great news, but there is more. In Genesis 1:2, we learn that darkness covered the surface of the watery depths, and the Spirit of God was there. In Exodus 20:21, we read that the people remained standing at a distance as Moses approached the thick darkness where God was. In Isaiah 50:10, we are bid as we walk in darkness and have no light to “trust in the name of Yahweh” and “lean on [our] God.”

From these passages and more, we learn that, even in the darkness of despair, estrangement, and forsakenness, God is there! Indeed, the fact that Jesus went through this darkness himself, and got it, was surely on his mind just a chapter after he cried out when, as he prepared to ascend into heaven, he pronounced, “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”