The seven last words of Christ on the cross. IV: The word of distress

Editor’s Review

We continue with the series of sermons by A. W. Pink titled “The Seven Sayings of the Savior on the Cross”. On this occasion, we arrive at the fourth saying, known as the word of anguish, one of the most profound and solemn expressions spoken by our Lord on the cross.

In these words—“My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”—we behold the most unfathomable mystery of redemption: the moment when Christ, bearing the sin of His people, experiences the judicial abandonment of God. Here the seriousness of sin, divine justice, and the infinite cost of our salvation are revealed.

We invite the reader to approach this teaching with reverence, where the suffering of Christ reaches its climax, and where redeeming love is manifested in its deepest form. This saying calls us not only to contemplate, but to worship the Savior who was forsaken so that we might never be.

Sermon by A. W. Pink: The Word of Anguish

“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

THESE ARE WORDS OF ASTONISHING SIGNIFICANCE. The crucifixion of the Lord of glory was the most extraordinary event that has ever taken place on earth, and this cry from the Sufferer was the most striking expression of that terrible scene. That innocence should be condemned, that the innocent should be persecuted, that a benefactor should be cruelly executed, was not something new in history. From the murder of righteous Abel to that of Zechariah, there had been a long list of martyrdoms. But the One who hung upon that central cross was not an ordinary man: He was the Son of Man, the One in whom all perfections met—the Perfect One. Like His garment, His character was “without seam, woven from the top throughout.”

In the case of all other persecuted ones, there were faults or imperfections that could give their accusers some ground for charge. But the judge of this One declared: “I find no fault in Him.”

And more. This Sufferer was not only perfect Man, but also the Son of God. It is not strange that man should desire to destroy God. “The fool has said in his heart, There is no God” (Ps. 14:1); such is his desire. But what is truly astonishing is that He who was God manifested in the flesh should allow Himself to be treated thus by His enemies. It is even more surprising that the Father, who delighted in Him, whose voice from the opened heavens had declared, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased,” should deliver Him up to such a shameful death.

These are words of dreadful anguish. The very word “forsaken” is one of the most tragic in all human language. What calamities does this word evoke? A man abandoned by his friends, a wife abandoned by her husband, a child abandoned by his parents. But a creature abandoned by his Creator, a man abandoned by God—this is the most terrible of all! This is the evil of evils, the supreme calamity.

It is true that fallen man, in his natural state, does not perceive it so. But he who has learned, even in part, that God is the sum of all perfection, the source and end of all excellence, he whose cry is, “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God” (Ps. 42:1), recognizes the truth of these words. The cry of the saints in all ages has been: “Do not forsake us, O God.” If the Lord hides His face for a moment, it is unbearable. If this is true in redeemed sinners, how much more in the beloved Son of the Father!

He who hung upon that cursed tree had been from all eternity the object of the Father’s love. Using the language of Proverbs 8, the suffering Savior was the One who “was by Him as a master workman,” and was “daily His delight.” His joy had been to behold the Father’s face. The Father’s presence was His home, His bosom His dwelling place, and His glory He had shared before the world existed.

During the thirty-three years that the Son was on earth, He enjoyed uninterrupted communion with the Father. He never had a thought out of harmony with the Father’s mind, nor a will different from His, nor a moment outside of His conscious presence. What then did it mean to be “forsaken” by God? Ah! the hiding of God’s face was the bitterest element of the cup which the Father gave the Redeemer to drink.

These are words of incomparable suffering. They mark the climax of His sufferings. The soldiers had cruelly mocked Him; they placed a crown of thorns upon Him, scourged Him, struck Him, spat upon Him, and plucked out His hair. They stripped Him of His garments and exposed Him to public shame. Yet He bore it in silence. They pierced His hands and His feet, but He endured the cross, despising the shame. The crowd reviled Him, and the thieves also insulted Him, yet He did not open His mouth. In all that He suffered at the hands of men, not a single cry escaped His lips.

But now, when the concentrated wrath of heaven falls upon Him, He cries: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” This is a cry that should break the hardest heart!

These are words of profound mystery. In former times, Jehovah did not abandon His people. Again and again He was their refuge in distress. When Israel cried in Egypt, God heard. When they stood before the Red Sea, He delivered them. When the three Hebrews were cast into the furnace, He was with them. But here, on the cross, there rises a cry deeper than all the previous ones—and there is no answer!

Here is a situation more terrible than the Red Sea: more relentless enemies surround this Man, and there is no deliverance. Here is a fire more intense than the furnace of Babylon, and there is none to accompany Him. He is abandoned by God!

Yes, this cry of the Savior is deeply mysterious. Earlier He had said, “Father, forgive them,” and this we understand. Then He said to the thief, “Today you will be with Me in paradise,” and this also we understand. Afterward He spoke to His mother and to John, and this too we comprehend. But now He utters a cry that leaves us speechless. David said, “I have not seen the righteous forsaken,” yet here we see the Righteous One being forsaken.

These are words of the deepest solemnity. This was a cry that made the earth tremble and echoed throughout the universe. What mind can comprehend this mystery? Who can analyze the meaning of this cry in the midst of darkness?

“Why have You forsaken Me?” introduces us into the Most Holy Place. Here, more than anywhere else, we must remove the sandals of human curiosity. This is holy ground. It is not a place for speculation, but for admiration and worship.

But although these words are of astonishing significance, of dreadful anguish, of profound mystery, of unique pathos, and of deep solemnity, we are not left in ignorance concerning their meaning. It is true that this cry is deeply mysterious, but it also has a blessed explanation. The Holy Scriptures leave no doubt that these words of incomparable suffering are both the fullest manifestation of divine love and the most solemn demonstration of the inflexible justice of God. May every thought be brought into captivity to Christ, and may our hearts be duly solemnized as we contemplate more closely this fourth word of the dying Savior.

1. Here we see the terribleness of sin and the character of its wages.

The Lord Jesus was crucified at noon, and in the light of Calvary everything was revealed in its true character. There the nature of things was fully manifested. The depravity of the human heart—its hatred toward God, its ungrateful wickedness, its love for darkness rather than light, its preference for a murderer instead of the Prince of life—was clearly exposed. The terrible character of the devil—his enmity against God, his insatiable hatred against Christ, his power to induce man to betray the Savior—was fully revealed.

Likewise, the perfections of the divine nature—the holiness of God, His inflexible justice, His righteous wrath, and His incomparable grace—were fully displayed. And sin itself was shown in all its wickedness, corruption, and rebellion. Here we see how far sin can go: it began as self-destruction in Adam, then as murder in Cain, and at the cross it reaches its climax in deicide: man crucifying the Son of God.

But we not only see the seriousness of sin, but also the nature of its wages. “The wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23). Death is the consequence of sin. If there had been no sin, there would be no death. But what is death? It is not merely the cessation of physical life, but something far deeper: it is spiritual death. Sin separates man from God, who is the source of all life.

This was seen in Eden. Before the fall, Adam enjoyed communion with God, but after sin, he hid himself. The same happened with Cain: “From Your face I shall be hidden” (Genesis 4:14). Sin excludes from the presence of God. This was taught to Israel: though God dwelt among them, His presence was veiled in the Most Holy Place, inaccessible except by the high priest once a year.

Death, then, is not only physical, but also penal: the separation of the soul from God. Just as physical death is the separation of the soul from the body, spiritual death is the separation of the soul from God. Therefore, on the cross, Christ was receiving the wages of sin that belonged to His people. He had no sin of His own, but He bore our sins. He was suffering in our place. And that is why He cried: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

So shall also be the destiny of those who reject Christ: “they shall be punished with everlasting destruction, excluded from the presence of the Lord” (2 Thess. 1:9). This is the second death: not annihilation, but eternal separation from God. That separation was what Christ suffered on the cross during those hours of darkness.

2. Here we see the absolute holiness and the inflexible justice of God.

The tragedy of Calvary must be viewed from several angles. There man displayed his wickedness in crucifying the Perfect One. Satan showed his hatred in wounding the Son. Christ accomplished the work of redemption by dying for sinners. But also, on the cross, God performed a work: He manifested His holiness and satisfied His justice by pouring out His wrath upon Him who was made sin for us.

Who can describe the holiness of God? He is so holy that man cannot behold Him and live. He is so holy that the heavens are not clean in His sight. He is so holy that the seraphim cover their faces. Abraham said, “I am dust and ashes.” Job said, “I abhor myself.” Isaiah cried, “Woe is me!” Daniel lost all his strength in His presence.

God is so holy that He cannot look upon sin. And since Christ bore our sins, the Father turned His face away from Him. God laid upon Christ our iniquities, and His justice demanded that divine wrath be poured out upon the Substitute. Therefore, the Savior was forsaken.

“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” This was a question that none of those who stood around the cross could answer; it was a question that, at that moment, none of the apostles could answer; yes, it was a question that had left even the angels of heaven perplexed. But the Lord Jesus answered His own question, and His answer is found in Psalm 22. This psalm offers a marvelous prophetic view of His sufferings. The psalm begins with the very words of this fourth expression of our Savior on the cross, and continues with deep lamentations in the same tone until, in verse 3, we find these words: “But You are holy.” He does not complain of injustice, but acknowledges the justice of God: You are holy and just in demanding from Me the full debt for which I am surety; I bear all the sins of all My people, and therefore I justify You, O God, in striking Me with Your awakened sword. You are holy; You are just when You judge.

On the cross, then, more than anywhere else, we see the infinite evil of sin and the justice of God in its punishment. Was the ancient world destroyed by the flood? Were Sodom and Gomorrah consumed by fire and brimstone? Were the plagues sent upon Egypt and Pharaoh and his army drowned in the Red Sea? In these events we may see the guilt of sin and God’s hatred toward it; but far more clearly we see it here, when Christ is abandoned by God.

Go to Golgotha and behold the Man who is Jehovah’s companion drinking the cup of His Father’s indignation, wounded by the sword of divine justice, bruised by the Lord Himself, suffering unto death, because God “did not spare His own Son” when He hung in the sinner’s place.

Observe how nature itself anticipated this terrible tragedy: the shape of the ground like a skull. Observe the earth trembling under the weight of poured-out wrath. Observe the heavens as the sun withdraws from such a scene and the earth is covered in darkness. Here we see the terrible wrath of a God who punishes sin. Neither all the judgments of the Old Testament, nor all the bowls of wrath yet to be poured out in the great tribulation, nor the weeping and gnashing of teeth of the condemned in the lake of fire have given, nor will they ever give, such a clear manifestation of the inflexible justice and the infinite holiness of God, nor of His absolute hatred of sin, as the wrath that was kindled against His own Son on the cross.

Because He was bearing the judgment of sin, He was abandoned by God. He, who was the Holy One, whose own aversion to sin was infinite, who was purity incarnate (1 John 3:3), was made sin for us (2 Cor. 5:21); therefore He bowed beneath the storm of divine wrath, in which was manifested God’s displeasure against the innumerable sins of a multitude which no one can count. This, then, is the true explanation of Calvary. The holy character of God could do nothing less than judge sin, even when it was found upon Christ Himself. On the cross, then, the justice of God was satisfied and His holiness fully vindicated.

3. Here we see the explanation of Gethsemane.

As our blessed Lord drew nearer to the cross, the horizon grew darker and darker for Him. From His childhood He had suffered at the hands of men; from the beginning of His public ministry He had suffered at the hands of Satan; but on the cross He was to suffer under the hand of God. Jehovah Himself was about to strike the Savior, and this overshadowed everything else.

In Gethsemane He entered beforehand into the darkness of those three hours of the cross. Therefore He left the three disciples at the entrance of the garden, because He had to tread the winepress alone. “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful,” He cried. It was not a fear of physical death. It was not the thought of the betrayal of a close friend, nor the abandonment of His disciples, nor the insults, the scourging, or the nails that overwhelmed Him. No, all this, though painful, was nothing compared with what He was about to suffer as the sin-bearer.

“Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to His disciples, Sit here, while I go over there and pray. And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death; stay here and watch with Me. And going a little farther, He fell on His face and prayed, saying, My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26:36–39).

Here He sees the dark clouds rising; He beholds the terrible storm that is approaching; He anticipates the indescribable horror of those three hours of darkness. “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful,” He says. The Greek is emphatic: He was surrounded by sorrow, completely immersed in the anticipation of the wrath of God. All the faculties of His soul were shaken by anguish.

Mark uses another expression: “He began to be greatly distressed and troubled” (14:33), indicating such intensity that it makes the whole being tremble. And it adds: “and to be deeply distressed,” showing the total crushing of His spirit, His heart melting before the cup He had to drink.

But Luke uses the strongest terms: “And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly; then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44). The Greek word for “agony” implies an intense struggle. Before, He had contended with men and with Satan, but now He faced the cup that God was giving Him. It was the cup of the pure wrath of God against sin.

This explains why He said: “If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.” The cup symbolizes communion, but there is no communion in wrath, only in love. Yet, though it involved separation, He said: “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”

His anguish was so great that His sweat was like great drops of blood. We believe that He actually shed blood. The emphasis is on the reality of that suffering. And the place was fitting: Gethsemane, which means “oil press.” There the olives were crushed to extract their essence. So also the Savior was pressed under the weight of judgment. It was the prelude to the cross, a place of indescribable agony. In Gethsemane He began to drink the cup; on the cross He drank it to the very end.

4. Here we see the unshakable faithfulness of the Savior toward God.

The abandonment of the Redeemer by God was a solemn fact, and an experience that left Him with no support except the props of His faith. The position of our Savior on the cross was absolutely unique. This can be easily seen by contrasting His own words during His public ministry with those spoken on the cross itself. Previously He had said: “I knew that You always hear Me” (John 11:42); now He cries: “My God, I cry in the daytime, but You do not hear” (Ps. 22:2). Before He had said: “He who sent Me is with Me; the Father has not left Me alone” (John 8:29); now He cries: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

Now He had absolutely nothing upon which to lean except the covenant and the promise of His Father; and in His cry of anguish His faith is manifested. It was a cry of pain, but not of distrust. God had withdrawn from Him, but observe how His soul still clings to God. His faith triumphed by laying hold of God even in the midst of darkness. “My God,” He says, “My God,” You in whom there is infinite and eternal strength; You who until now have sustained My humanity, and according to Your promise have upheld Your servant—oh, do not depart from Me now. My God, in You I rest. When all visible and sensible comforts had disappeared, the Savior resorted to the invisible support and refuge of His faith.

In Psalm 22, the unshakable faithfulness of the Savior toward God is very evident. In this precious psalm the depths of His heart are revealed. Listen to Him:

“Our fathers trusted in You; they trusted, and You delivered them. They cried to You, and were delivered; they trusted in You, and were not ashamed. But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised by the people. All those who see Me ridicule Me; they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying: He trusted in the Lord; let Him deliver Him; let Him rescue Him, since He delights in Him. But You are He who took Me out of the womb; You made Me trust while on My mother’s breasts. I was cast upon You from birth; from My mother’s womb You have been My God” (Ps. 22:4–10).

The very point that His enemies tried to use against Him was His faith in God. They mocked Him for trusting in Jehovah—if He truly trusted in the Lord, the Lord would deliver Him. But the Savior continued trusting even when there was no deliverance; He trusted even though He was forsaken for a time. He had been cast upon God from the womb, and even in the hour of His death He is found trusting in God. He continues:

“Do not be far from Me, for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have surrounded Me; strong bulls of Bashan have encircled Me. They gape at Me with their mouths, like a raging and roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all My bones are out of joint; My heart is like wax; it has melted within Me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and My tongue clings to My jaws; You have brought Me to the dust of death. For dogs have surrounded Me; the congregation of the wicked has enclosed Me; they pierced My hands and My feet. I can count all My bones; they look and stare at Me. They divide My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots. But You, O Lord, do not be far from Me; O My Strength, hasten to help Me. Deliver My life from the sword, My precious life from the power of the dog” (Ps. 22:11–20).

Job had said of God: “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him”; and though the wrath of God against sin rested upon Christ, yet He still trusted. Yes, His faith did more than trust—it triumphed: “Save Me from the lion’s mouth; and deliver Me from the horns of the wild oxen” (Ps. 22:21).

Oh, what an example the Savior has left to His people! It is relatively easy to trust God when the sun is shining; the test comes when everything is dark. But a faith that does not rest in God both in adversity and in prosperity is not the faith of God’s elect. We must have a faith by which to live—true faith—if we are to have a faith by which to die. The Savior had been cast upon God from His mother’s womb; He had trusted God moment by moment during those thirty-three years; what is strange then that in the hour of death He is still found trusting in God? Christian brother, all may be dark with you; you may no longer see the light of God’s face. Providence seems to frown upon you; yet still say: “Eli, Eli, my God, my God.”

5. Here we may see the foundation of our salvation.

God is holy and therefore cannot look upon sin. God is just and therefore judges sin wherever it is found. But God is love also: God delights in mercy, and therefore infinite wisdom devised a way whereby justice could be satisfied and mercy could flow freely toward guilty sinners. This way was the way of substitution: the Just suffering for the unjust.

The very Son of God was chosen to be the Substitute, for none other was sufficient. Through Nahum the question had been asked: “Who can stand before His indignation? And who can endure the fierceness of His anger?” (1:6). This question found its answer in the adorable person of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He alone could “stand.” Only One could endure the curse and yet rise victorious over it. Only One could bear all the avenging wrath and yet magnify the law and make it honorable. Only One could allow His heel to be bruised by Satan and, even in that bruising, destroy him who had the power of death.

God laid help upon One who is “mighty” (Ps. 89:19), One who was no less than the Companion of Jehovah, the brightness of His glory, the express image of His person. Thus we see that boundless love, inflexible justice, and omnipotent power united to make possible the salvation of those who believe.

On the cross, all our iniquities were laid upon Christ, and therefore divine judgment fell upon Him. There was no way to transfer sin without also transferring its punishment. Both sin and its penalty were transferred to the Lord Jesus. On the cross, Christ was making propitiation, and propitiation is Godward. It was a matter of satisfying the demands of God’s holiness; it was a matter of fulfilling the requirements of His justice.

Not only was the blood of Christ shed for us, but also to God: “He gave Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma” (Eph. 5:2). Thus it was prefigured on that memorable night of the Passover in Egypt: the blood of the lamb was to be where the eye of God could see it—“And when I see the blood, I will pass over you.”

The death of Christ on the cross was a death of curse: “Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us; for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree’” (Gal. 3:13). The “curse” is alienation from God. This is seen in the words which Christ will say to those on His left: “Depart from Me, you cursed” (Matt. 25:41). The curse is banishment from the presence and glory of God.

This explains the meaning of several types in the Old Testament. The bullock slain on the Day of Atonement, after its blood was sprinkled, was taken outside the camp and burned completely (Lev. 16:27). The camp was the place where God dwelt; to be taken outside meant to be cast out from His presence. The same occurred with the leper: he had to dwell outside the camp (Lev. 13:46), because he represented the sinner.

We also see here the antitype of the bronze serpent. Why did God command that a serpent be lifted up? Because it represented the curse. Thus Christ was made a curse for us. On the cross, He was fulfilling these types: He was outside the camp, like the leper, made sin for us; like the serpent, made a curse for us.

This also explains the crown of thorns: a symbol of the curse. Lifted up on the cross, with His brow surrounded by thorns, He showed that He was bearing the curse for us.

Here also is the meaning of the three hours of darkness that covered the earth like a mantle of death. It was a supernatural darkness. It was not night, for the sun was at its zenith. As Mr. Spurgeon rightly said: “It was midnight at midday.” It was not an eclipse. Competent astronomers tell us that at the time of the crucifixion the moon was at its farthest point from the sun. But this cry of Christ gives us the meaning of the darkness, just as the darkness gives us the meaning of that bitter cry. Only one thing can explain this darkness, just as only one thing can interpret this cry: that Christ had taken the place of the guilty and lost, that He stood in the place of the sin-bearer, that He was enduring the judgment due to His people, that He who knew no sin was made sin for us.

That cry was uttered so that we might be allowed to know what took place there. It was, so to speak, the manifestation of the atonement, for three is always the number of manifestation. God is light, and “darkness” is the natural sign of His withdrawal. The Redeemer was left alone with the sinner’s sin: that was the explanation of the three hours of darkness. Just as there will be upon the condemned a double misery in the lake of fire—the pain of sense and the pain of loss—so also, correspondingly, Christ suffered both the outpoured wrath of God and the withdrawal of His presence and communion.

For the believer, the cross is interpreted in Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ.” He was my Substitute; God reckoned me one with the Savior. His death was mine. He was wounded for my transgressions and bruised for my iniquities. Sin was not merely set aside, but taken away. As another has said: “Because God judged sin in the Son, He now accepts the believing sinner in the Son.” Our life is hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3). I am shut up in Christ because Christ was shut out from God.

Here, then, is the foundation of our salvation. Our sins have been borne. The demands of God against us have been fully satisfied. Christ was forsaken by God for a time, that we might enjoy His presence forever. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” Let every believing soul answer: He entered into the terrible darkness so that I might walk in the light; He drank the cup of sorrow so that I might drink the cup of joy; He was forsaken so that I might be forgiven.

6. Here we see the supreme evidence of Christ’s love for us.

“Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends” (John 15:13). But the greatness of Christ’s love can only be estimated when we are able to measure what was involved in the “laying down of His life.” As we have seen, it meant far more than physical death, though that itself was of indescribable shame and unspeakable suffering. It meant that He had to take our place and be made sin for us, and what this involved can only be understood in the light of His person.

Imagine a woman perfectly honorable and virtuous being forced to live for a time among the most vile and impure. Imagine her shut up in a place of iniquity, surrounded by degraded men and women, with no possibility of escape. Can you estimate her revulsion at the obscene language, the drunkenness, the corrupt atmosphere? Can you imagine the suffering of her soul in the midst of such impurity? But this illustration falls far short, for there is no woman who is absolutely pure.

But Christ was pure; absolutely pure. He was the Holy One. He had an infinite hatred for sin. He abhorred it. His holy soul recoiled from it. But on the cross, all our iniquities were laid upon Him, and sin—that vile thing—coiled itself around Him like a horrible serpent. And yet, He suffered willingly for us. Why? Because He loved us: “having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end” (John 13:1).

But there is more: the greatness of Christ’s love can only be estimated when we measure the wrath of God that was poured out upon Him. This was what caused His soul to tremble. What this meant to Him may be seen in the Psalms, where we hear His cries:

“Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing; I have come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is dry; my eyes fail while I wait for my God.
Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink; let me be delivered from those who hate me, and out of the deep waters. Let not the floodwater overflow me, nor let the deep swallow me up; and let not the pit shut its mouth on me.
Do not hide Your face from Your servant, for I am in trouble; hear me speedily. Draw near to my soul, and redeem it; deliver me because of my enemies. You know my reproach, my shame, and my dishonor; my adversaries are all before You. Reproach has broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness; I looked for someone to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none” (Ps. 69:1–3, 14–15, 17–20).

And again: “Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and billows have gone over me” (Ps. 42:7). The hatred of God toward sin descended like a flood upon the sin-bearer. Looking toward the cross, He cried: “Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Behold and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow” (Lam. 1:12).

Here we have but a glimpse of the indescribable horror which the Holy One contemplated in those three hours, where the equivalent of an eternal hell was concentrated. The Beloved of the Father had to have the face of God hidden from Him; He had to be left in outer darkness.

Here is an incomparable love. “If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me,” He cried. But it was not possible to save His people unless He drank that cup. And since there was no other who could drink it, He drank it. Blessed be His name! Where sin led man, love led the Savior.

7. Here we see the destruction of false hope.

This cry announces the final condition of every lost soul: to be abandoned by God. Today it is falsely taught that God will not judge. But this is the same thing the serpent said in Eden. God said: you shall die; the serpent said: you shall not die. Who was right? God.

God is merciful, but His mercy has a limit. The day of grace will come to an end. Death may come at any moment, and after that comes judgment. God will not act with mercy then, but with justice. “He who does not believe will be condemned” (Mark 16:16).

If God did not spare His own Son when He bore sin, how will the one who rejects Christ escape? If Christ was abandoned for three hours, the unbeliever will be separated from God forever.

Conclusion

The word of anguish brings us into the deepest and most solemn point of all the redemptive work of Christ. Here we do not merely behold the physical suffering of the Savior, but the unfathomable mystery of His abandonment under divine justice. He who had always enjoyed perfect communion with the Father is now forsaken, not for any fault of His own, but because He bore upon Himself the sin of His people.

In this cry—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”—we see simultaneously revealed the infinite seriousness of sin and the perfect holiness of God. Sin could not be ignored; it had to be judged—and it was judged in Christ. There, on the cross, justice was satisfied and grace opened its way to save sinners. This is the firm foundation of our hope: Christ was forsaken so that we might never be.

But this word is also a solemn warning. If the Son of God was not spared when He bore sin, what will become of those who reject His sacrifice? The cross not only reveals the love of God, but also His judgment. Therefore, reader, do not harden your heart. Run to Christ, trust in His work, and receive the forgiveness He purchased at such a high cost. And you, believer, behold this mystery with reverence, and respond with a life of worship, gratitude, and total surrender to Him who was forsaken out of love for you.