“Beginning With Moses, Part 12” by Romans
Youtube Audio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUnDKD1NMH4
We are continuing our Series "Beginning With Moses." On the Road to Emmaus, Jesus caught up with and spoke with two disciples who were sad and perplexed about the arrest, crucifixion and resurrection reports about Jesus, the One Whom they "trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel” (Luke 24:21). In response to their sadness and confusion, Jesus opened the Scriptures to them. We read, “And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke 24:27).
First, tonight, Jesus may well have included in His review of the things that concerned Himself is Psalm 22 written by King David 1,000 years before Jesus was born. Psalm 22 opens with a most amazing question in verse 1, a question that we immediately associate with Jesus' crucifixion. The verses that follow are no less amazing in their association with, and prophetic forecast of what Jesus experienced during His the crucifixion.
Let's read together the verses that I found of greatest significance. Psalm 22:1: To the chief Musician upon Aijeleth Shahar, A Psalm of David. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring? 2 O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent. 6 But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people. 7 All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, 8 He trusted on the LORD that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him. 11 Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help. 12 Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round. 13 They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion. 14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. 15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death. 16 For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet. 17 I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me.” or, “I can count all my bones” (ESV). 18 They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.”
Before I share some commentaries with you, I would like to point out verse 15 where Jesus said, “My tongue cleaveth to my jaws.”
At least one commentary that I reviewed linked this verse to John 19:28: “After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I thirst.”
Now to those critics who might be tempted to accuse Jesus of saying that just to fulfill Scripture in a effort to counterfeit prophecy and falsely identify Himself as the Messiah, I ask this: “If Jesus' actions were the result of Him knowing the prophecy, and merely going through the motions to facricate its fulfillment, am I also to believe other events at His crucifixion were also fabricated.
Did the entire mob of mockers and accusers also read Psalm 22 and act it out in order to fulfill verses 7 and 8 that says,
“All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, 8 He trusted on the LORD that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.”
And did the Roman guards also read Psalm 22, and fabricate the fulfillment of verse 18 which says, “They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture”? No. That is ridiculous! There was no fabrication or counterfeiting on anyone's part. Psalm 22 was a genuine prophecy that was genuinely fulfilled by all of the participants whether they knew Psalm 22 or not. Having gotten that off my chest, I will proceed to share our first Commentary with you.
The Preacher's Homiletical writes of this, “Psalms 22:1-31, WHO is the sufferer whose wail is the very voice of desolation and despair, and who yet dares to believe that the tale of his sorrow will be a gospel for the world? The usual answers are given. The title ascribes the authorship to David, and is accepted by Delitzsch and others.
On any theory of authorship, the startling correspondence of the details of the psalmist’s sufferings with those of the Crucifixion has to be accounted for. How startling that correspondence is, both in the number and minuteness of its points, need not be insisted on.
Not only does our Lord quote the first verse on the cross, and so show that the psalm was in his heart then, but the gestures and words of mockery were verbally reproduced, as Luke significantly indicates by using the LXX’s word for "laugh to scorn" (Psalm 22:7). Christ’s thirst is regarded by John as the fulfilment of "scripture," which can scarcely be other than Psalm 22:15.
The physical effects of crucifixion are described in the ghastly picture of Psalm 22:14-15. Whatever difficulty exists in determining the true reading and meaning of the allusion to "my hands and my feet," some violence or indignity to them is intended. The peculiar detail of dividing the raiment was more than fulfilled, since the apparently parallel and synonymous clauses were resolved into two distinct acts.
The recognition of these points in the psalm as prophecies is one thing; the determination of their relation to the psalmist’s own experience is quite another. It is taken for granted in many quarters that every such detail in prophecy must describe the writer’s own circumstances, and the supposition that they may transcend these is said to be "psychologically impossible."
But it is somewhat hazardous for those who have not been subjects of prophetic inspiration to lay down canons of what is possible and impossible in it...
and there are examples enough to prove that the relation of the prophets’ speech to their consciousness and circumstances was singularly complex, and not to be unravelled by any such psychological possibilities. They were recipients of messages, and did not always understand what the "Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify."
Theories which neglect that aspect of the case do not front all the facts. Certainty as to the authorship of this psalm is probably unattainable. How far its words fitted the condition of the singer must therefore remain unsettled. But that these minute and numerous correspondences are more than coincidences, it seems perverse to deny.
The present writer, for one, sees shining through the shadowy personality of the psalmist the figure of the Prince of Sufferers, and believes that whether the former’s plaints applied in all their particulars to him, or whether there is in them a certain "element of hyperbole" which becomes simple fact in Jesus’ sufferings, the psalm is a prophecy of Him and them.
In the former case the psalmist’s experience, in the latter case his utterances, were divinely shaped so as to prefigure the sacred sorrows of the Man of Sorrows. To a reader who shares in this understanding of the psalm, it must be holy ground, to be trodden reverently and with thoughts adoringly fixed on Jesus.
Surely opposites were never more startlingly blended in one gush of feeling than in that plaint of mingled faith and despair, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" which by its thus addressing God clings fast to Him, and by its wondering question discloses the dreary consciousness of separation from Him. The evidence to the psalmist that he was forsaken was the apparent rejection of his prayers for deliverance;
and if David be the speaker, we may suppose that the pathetic fate of his predecessor hovered before his thoughts: "I am sore distressed. God is departed from me and answereth me no more. But, while lower degrees of this conflict of trust and despair belong to all deep religious life, and are experienced by saintly sufferers in all ages, the voice that rang through the darkness on Calvary was the cry of Him who experienced its force in supreme measure and in altogether unique manner.
None but He can ask that question "Why?" with conscience void of offence. None but He have known the mortal agony of utter separation from God. None but He have clung to God with absolute trust even in the horror of great darkness. In Christ’s consciousness of being forsaken by God lie elements peculiar to it alone, for the separating agent was the gathered sins of the whole world, laid on Him and accepted by Him in the perfection of His loving identification of Himself with men.
Unless in that dread hour He was bearing a world’s sin, there is no worthy explanation of His cry, and many a silent martyr has faced death for Him with more courage derived from Him than He manifested on His cross. The desolation rising from unanswered prayer drives to the contemplation of God’s holiness and past responses to trusting men, which are in one aspect an aggravation and in another an alleviation.
The psalmist partly answers his own question "Why?" and preaches to Himself that the reason cannot be in Jehovah, whose character and former deeds bind Him to answer trust by help. God’s holiness is primarily His separation from, by elevation above, the creature, both in regard of His freedom from limitations and of His perfect purity.
If He is thus "holy," He will not break His promise, nor change His ways with those who trust. It takes some energy of faith to believe that a silent and apparently deaf God is "holy," and the effect of the belief may either be to crush or to lift the spirit.
Such remembrances make the contrast of present sufferings and of a far-off God more bitter; and so a fresh wave of agony rolls over the psalmist’s soul. He feels himself crushed and as incapable of resistance as a worm bruised in all its soft length by an armed heel. The very semblance of manhood has faded. One can scarcely fail to recall "his visage was so marred more than any man" (Isaiah 52:14)
No man has ever felt that pang with the intensity with which Jesus felt it, for none has ever brought such wealth of longing love to be thrown back on itself, nor been so devoid of the callousness with which selfishness is shielded. His pure nature was tender as an infant’s hand, and felt the keen edge of the spear as none but He can have done. They are His sorrows that are painted here, so vividly and truly...”
The Pulpit Commentary says this of Psalm 22: HOMILIES BY C. CLEMANCE: Psalm 22:1-31: From darkness to light; or, the song of the early dawn. This is one of the most wonderful of all the psalms. It has gathered round it the study of expositors of most diverse types—from those who see in it scarcely aught but a description beforehand of the Messiah’s suffering and glory, to those who see in it scarcely any Messianic reference at all, and who acknowledge only one sense in which even the term "Messianic" is to be tolerated, even in the fact that light gleams forth after the darkness.
Both these extreme views should be avoided, and we venture to ask for the careful and candid attention of the reader, as we move along a specific path in the elucidation of this psalm. The title of the psalm is significant; literally, it reads, "To the chief musician, A Psalm of David"
In this psalm we see the light of early morn breaking forth after the deepest darkness of the blackest night. Hence the title given above to this homily. But then the question comes—Whose is the darkness, and whose is the light? We reply—Primarily, the writer’s, whoever he may have been, whether David or any other Old Testament saint.
For the psalm is not written in the third person, as is the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. There is no room here for the question, "Of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other man?" In Isaiah 53:1-12. the reference is to another; in this psalm the wail is declared to be the writer’s own. Yet we have to take note of the fact that in the New Testament there are some seven or eight references to this psalm in which its words and phrases are applied to the Lord Jesus Christ.
There are other phrases in the psalm which were literally true of our Lord, but yet are not quoted in the New Testament. We do not wonder at Bishop Perowne’s remark. "Unnatural as I cannot help thinking that interpretation is which assumes that the psalmist himself never felt the sorrows which he describes …
I hold that to be a far worse error which sees here no foreshadowing of Christ at all. Indeed, the coincidence between the sufferings of the psalmist and the sufferings of Christ is so remarkable, that it is very surprising that any one should deny or question the relation between the type and the antitype."
To a like effect are the devout and thoughtful words of Orelli, £ "What the psalmist complains of in mere figurative, though highly coloured terms, befell the Son of God in veritable fact. Herein we see the objective connection, established of set purpose by God’s providence...
There is no reason to think, on the one hand, that the writer was a mere machine, nor yet, on the other, that he fully knew the far-reaching significance of the words he used. And this leads us to a remark which we make once for all, that there are two senses in which psalms may be Messianic—direct and indirect.
1. Direct. In these the reference is exclusively to the Messiah; every phrase is true of him, and of him alone, and cannot be so translated as not to apply to him, nor so that it can, as a whole, apply to any one else. The fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, and also the second and hundred and tenth psalms are illustrations of this.
2. Indirect. In these the first meaning is historical, and applies to the writer himself; but many phrases therein have a second and far-reaching intent; of these the fullest application is to him who was David’s Son and yet David’s Lord. The psalm before us is an illustration of this indirect Messianic structure;
and this not only, perhaps not so much, because in the first writing of the words the Spirit of God pointed forward to Christ, as because our Lord himself, having taken a human nature, and shared human experiences, found himself the partaker of like sorrows with the Old Testament saints, plunged into like horrible darkness, which found expression in the very same words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Mr. Spurgeon, indeed, admits some possible application to David himself, but says that believers will scarcely care to think of his sufferings; they will rather fasten their gaze on those of their Lord. That is true, in a very touching sense... Let us therefore deal with this psalm in a twofold outline—first, as it applies to the writer; and then as it it taken up by the Lord Jesus, and made his own (with such exceptions as that named in the first footnote below).
I. ISRAEL’S KING PASSES THROUGH DEEPEST DARKNESS TO THE LIGHT. Here let us answer by anticipation a remark with which we have frequently met, to the effect that we cannot fasten on any incident in the career of David which would lead to such extreme anguish as that indicated here. Who that has any knowledge of the horrors to which sensitive souls are liable, could raise any difficulty over this?
Far more depends on subjective condition than on outward incident. Why, the saints of God now do pass through times of indescribable anguish, of which no outward incident affords even a glimmer of explanation. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." Let the outer occasion have been whatsoever it may, here at any rate is:
1. A saint in terrible darkness. In the midst of his woe, he remembers his transgressions, and it may have been, as is so often the case, that the writer attributes his anguish to his numberless transgressions (verse 1, LXX.). The details of his intensity of sorrow are manifold.
(1) Prayer rises from his heart day and night without relief (verse 2). (2) He is despised (verses 6-8). His enemies laugh and mock. (3) His foes, wild, fierce, ravenous, plot his ruin (verses 12, 13). (4) His strength is spent with sorrow (verse 15). (5) There are eager anticipations of his speedily being removed out of the way (verse 18).
(6) And, worst of all, it seems as if God, his own God, whom he had trusted from childhood (verses 9,10), had now forsaken him, and given him up to his foes. How many suffering saints may find solace in this psalm, as they see how God’s people have suffered before them? Surely few could have a heavier weight of woe than the writer of this plaintive wail.
2. The woe is freely told to God There may be the stinging memory of bygone sin piercing the soul, still the psalmist cleaves to his God. (1) The heart still craves for God; even in the dark; yea, the more because of the darkness. (2) Hence the abandonment is not actual. However dense the gloom may be, when the soul can cry, "My God," we may be sure the cry is not unreciprocated.
(3) Such a cry will surely be heard. Past deliverances assure us of this. Yea, even ere the wail in the dark is over, the light begins to dawn. "One Sunday morning," said Mr. Spurgeon, in an address at Mildmay Hall, June 26, 1890, reported in the Christian of July 4, "I preached from the text, ’My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’
I could not tell why I should be made to preach it. I felt while preaching as if I were myself forsaken. On the sabbath evening, there came into the vestry a man of about sixty, whose eyes were bright with a strange lustre. He took my hand, and held it, and cried.
He said to me, ’Nobody ever preached my experience before. I have now been for years left, deserted, in a horrible gloom of great darkness; but this morning I learned that I was not the only man in the darkness, and I believe I shall get out!’ I said, ’ Yes; I have got out; but now I know why I was put in.’ That man was brought back from the depths of despair, and restored to joy and peace. There was a child of God, dying in darkness.
He said to the minister who spoke with him, ’Oh, sir, though I have trusted Christ for years, I have lost him now. What can become of. a man who dies feeling that God has deserted him?’ The minister replied, ’ What did become of that Man who died saying," My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Is he not on the highest throne of glory even now? ’The man’s mind changed in a moment, and he began to say, ’ Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;’ and he died in peace."
3. The light dawns at last. The "everlasting covenant" does not fail; it has been "ordered in all things," and remains sure and steadfast; and oftentimes, even while the saint is on his knees, he will scarce have ended his groaning ’ere his sigh is turned to a song (cf. Psalm 27:12-14).
Hence the last ten verses of the psalm are as joyous as the others are sad. "The darkest hour is before the dawn," and the brightness of morning shall chase away the gloom of night. So it is here.
(1) The saint who takes his groans to God alone, shall yet sing his praises in the assemblies of the saints. Having told the rest to his God, he will "give others the sunshine." (2) The rehearsal of this story shall be the joy of other hearts in day to come (verses 25-27). (3) The outcome of all will be that God will vindicate his own honour, and that the generation yet unborn will praise him and declare his righteousness.
II. WORDS OF A SUFFERING SAINT ARE APPROPRIATED BY A SUFFERING SAVIOUR. The Lord Jesus Christ, in all things "made like unto his brethren," takes up words from this psalm into his own lips. If we were dealing only with the Messianic aspect of the psalm, we should open it up in the following order: (1) The Saviour’s suffering. (2) The Saviour’s inquiry: "Why?" (3) The Saviour’s joy.
Since, however, we are seeking to expound the psalm in both its aspects, we rather indicate four lines of thought, the pursuing of which will throw light on the wonder of the appropriation of the words of a suffering saint by a suffering Saviour; while some look at the fierce cry with which this psalm beans as intended to set forth the woes of the coming Messiah, that cry seems to us far more touching when we find that our dear Redeemer uses the words of an ancient sufferer as his own!
Observe: 1. There is no depth of sorrow through which the saint can pass, but Jesus understands it all. How many causes of woe are enumerated here! But in all points Jesus felt the same. The writer endured (1) the cutting remarks of many; (2) weakness; (3) reproach and scorn; (4) the plotting of foes; (5) the treachery of friends; and, worst of all,
and (6) the sense of separation from God. Every one of these forms of hardship and ill pressed sorely on Jesus; and though we may meditate continuously and with ever-deepening wonder on each of them, yet all the rest fade away into insignificance compared with the anguish that arose from the hiding of the Father’s face.
Every trouble can be borne when the Father is seen to smile; but when his face is hidden in a total eclipse, what darkness can be so dreadful as that? There was, as it were, a hiding of the face from him (Isaiah 53:3). Let those saints of God who have to pass through seasons of prolonged mental anguish remember that, however severe the conflict may be, the Saviour has passed through one still more terrible than theirs.
2. If even the saint asks "why?" even so did the Saviour. The "why?" however, applies only to the opening words—to the hiding of God’s face. There may be mystery therein, even when (as in the case of every saint) there are transgressions to be bemoaned. But our Saviour has an unfathomable woe, "yet without sin."
The "why?" then, imperatively requires an answer. In the tire, at the faggot, and at the stake, martyrs have sung for joy. Why is it that at the moment of direst need the sinless Sufferer should have felt aught so dreadful as abandonment by God? Not that the abandonment was real. The Father never loved the Son more than when he hung bleeding on the cross.
But our Saviour endured the sense of it. Why was this? He did not deserve it. But he had laden himself with our burden. "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquities of us all." Nor do we know that we can put the pith and essence of the atonement in fewer words than these:
(1) sin separates from God; (2) Jesus bore our sin; therefore (3) Jesus endured the sense of separation.
We can understand that, coming as Man into the midst of a sinful race, all the suffering which a holy nature must endure in conflict with sinful men would be his. But the sense of desertion by God while doing his Father’s will can only be accounted for by the amazing fact that "he sent his Son to be the Propitiation for our sins."
3. In passing through his manifold experience of sorrow, the Saviour learned to suffer with the saint, and was being made perfect as the Captain of salvation. (Hebrews 2:10; Hebrews 5:2, Hebrews 5:7-9) Our Saviour was (1) to lead many sons unto glory; (2) to be One who could sympathize, soothe, and succour in every case of woe (Hebrews 2:18); (3) to be One who by his sympathetic power could inspire his hosts;
and (4) to teach them that, as they were destined to follow him in his heavenly glory, they must not be surprised if they have first to follow him in the pathway of woe. "The disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord." Objection: "But how can the sympathy of Jesus with me be perfect? He was without sin, and I am not. So the parallel fails."
Good people who urge this objection forget that it is the presence of sin in each of us which makes our sympathy with each other so imperfect. Because Jesus was without sin, he can draw the line exactly between defects that are due to infirmity and such as are traceable to sin. The second he forgives; the first be pities. Is not this the very perfection of sympathy?
III. THE WORDS OF THE SAINT EMERGING FROM HIS GLOOM ARE APPROPRIATE TO THE SAVIOUR IN HIS EXALTATION AND TRIUMPH. With the Saviour, as with the psalmist, the darkest night was the prelude to the brightness of day. The brightness which marks the last ten verses of the psalm is a declaration that the kingdom of David shall be established for ever and ever...
and that, though David may have to pass through fire and flood, his kingdom shall abide through age after age; and thus we find the phraseology of these verses applied to the after-career of David’s Son and David’s Lord in Hebrews 2:11-12. Whence five points invite attention.
The Holy Ghost, inditing the psalmist’s words so that they forecast the issue of Messiah’s sufferings as well as his own, shows us our Saviour (1) emerging from the conflict; (2) joining with his people in songs of rejoicing; (3) declaring the Father’s Name to his "brethren;"
(4) gathering home the severed tribes of mankind; (5) bringing in the victorious kingdom (verses 21-31).
It is not, it is not for nought that the Messiah endured all his woe (Isa_53:11; Heb_12:1, Heb_12:2; Php_2:11). It behoved him to suffer, and then "to enter into his glory." And as with the Master, so with the servant. "If we suffer, we shall also reign with him." He hath said, "Where I am, there shall also my servant be." Following him in sharing his cross, we shall follow him in sharing his crown.”
Finally, I would like to close with this brief overview by Matthew Henry: “I. A sad complaint of God's withdrawings, Psalm 22:1-2. 1. This may be applied to David, or any other child of God, in the want of the tokens of his favour, pressed with the burden of his displeasure, roaring under it, as one overwhelmed with grief and terror, crying earnestly for relief, and, in this case, apprehending himself forsaken of God, unhelped, unheard, yet calling him, again and again, “My God,” and continuing to cry day and night to him and earnestly desiring his gracious returns.
Note, (1.) Spiritual desertions are the saints' sorest afflictions; when their evidences are clouded, divine consolations suspended, their communion with God interrupted, and the terrors of God set in array against them, how sad are their spirits, and how sapless all their comforts!
(2.) Even their complaint of these burdens is a good sign of spiritual life and spiritual senses exercised. To cry out, “My God, why am I sick? Why am I poor?” would give cause to suspect discontent and worldliness. But, Why has thou forsaken me? is the language of a heart binding up its happiness in God's favour.
(3.) When we are lamenting God's withdrawings, yet still we must call him our God, and continue to call upon him as ours. When we want the faith of assurance we must live by a faith of adherence. “However it be, yet God is good, and he is mine; though he slay me, yet I trust in him; though he do not answer me immediately, I will continue praying and waiting; though he be silent, I will not be silent.”
2. But is must be applied to Christ: for, in the first words of this complaint, he poured out his soul before God when he was upon the cross (Matthew 27:46); probably he proceeded to the following words, and, some think, repeated the whole psalm, if not aloud (because they cavilled at the first words), yet to himself.
Note, (1.) Christ, in his sufferings, cried earnestly to his Father for his favour and presence with him. He cried in the day-time, upon the cross, and in the night-season, when he was in agony in the garden. He offered up strong crying and tears to him that was able to save him, and with some fear too, Hebrews 5:7.
(2.) Yet God forsook him, was far from helping him, and did not hear him, and it was this that he complained of more than all his sufferings. God delivered him into the hands of his enemies; it was by his determinate counsel that he was crucified and slain, and he did not give in sensible comforts.
But, Christ having made himself sin for us, in conformity thereunto the Father laid him under the present impressions of his wrath and displeasure against sin. It pleased the Lord to bruise him and put him to grief, Isa_53:10. But even then he kept fast hold of his relation to his Father as his God, by whom he was now employed, whom he was now serving, and with whom he should shortly be glorified.
Though God did not hear him, did not help him, yet, 1. He will think well of God: “But thou art holy, not unjust, untrue, nor unkind, in any of thy dispensations. Though thou dost not immediately come in to the relief of thy afflicted people, yet though lovest them, art true to thy covenant with them, and dost not countenance the iniquity of their persecutors, Habakkuk 1:13.
And, as thou art infinitely pure and upright thyself, so thou delightest in the services of thy upright people: Thou inhabitest the praises of Israel; thou art pleased to manifest thy glory, and grace, and special presence with thy people, in the sanctuary, where they attend thee with their praises. There thou art always ready to receive their homage, and of the tabernacle of meeting thou hast said, This is my rest for ever.”
This bespeaks God's wonderful condescension to his faithful worshippers - (that, though he is attended with the praises of angels, yet he is pleased to inhabit the praises of Israel), and it may comfort us in all our complaints - that, though God seem, for a while, to turn a deaf ear to them, yet he is so well pleased with his people's praises that he will, in due time, give them cause to change their note:
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise him. Our Lord Jesus, in his sufferings, had an eye to the holiness of God, to preserve and advance the honour of that, and of his grace in inhabiting the praises of Israel...”
This concludes this evening's Discussion, “Beginning with Moses, Part 12.”
This Discussion was presented “live” on October 11th, 2023
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