A Word from Bob: I’ve taken today’s Good Friday reflections from my 31-day devotional, Grief: Walking with Jesus. 

“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27:45-46).

“Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!’ And having said this he breathed his last” (Luke 23:46).

“Eli, Eli, Lema Sabachthani?” 

The most haunting words in human history. No, the most haunting words in all of eternity:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Nearing the end of our grief journey with Jesus, we’ve come nearly full circle from where we started. We began our journey with Jesus forever one with the Father in John 1:1.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God…”

Now we witness the Word without God. The Word forsaken by God.

How can God forsake God? How can the eternal Triune God experience separation?

How do we respond when we, like Jesus, feel Godforsaken?

Truthfulness about Godforsakenness 

How do we respond? We respond like Jesus—with utter, guttural bluntness, frankness, and openness. We ask the question that we’re afraid to ask, but that Jesus and the Psalmists courageously and vulnerably voiced. We respond to feelings of Godforsakenness with the lament of Psalm 13:1-2.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?”

In our despair, we lament like the Psalmist in Psalm 22:1-2—which Jesus quotes from on the cross.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”

In our confusion, we lament like Asaph and his Psalm of the Dark Night of the Soul in Psalm 88:15-18.

“From my youth I have suffered and been close to death; I have borne your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me; your terrors have destroyed me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken from me friend and neighbor—darkness is my closest friend.”

Clinging to God’s Trustworthiness 

Our suffering Savior’s last words on the cross do not end with feelings of Godforsakenness. No, we hear our Savior calling out with a loud voice:

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”

Only then does he breathe his last breath.

Jesus lived every nano-second face-to-face with his Father. Theologians call it coram Deo: living face-to-face in the presence of God.

When Jesus felt Godforsaken, he did not talk behind his Father’s back; he talked to and with his Father. And, when Jesus was ready to go home, he doesn’t talk about God; he talks to, surrenders to, and trusts in God alone.

The story of the cross does not end with God forsaking God. The cross story ends with God the Son clinging to God the Father and with the Father receiving his Son. 

Applying Gospel Truth to Your Grief Journey 

Today, can you bring your grief to your Father coram Deo—face-to-face with God? Like Jesus, you can grieve coram Deo by being honest to God about your feelings of Godforsakenness. What would your lament Psalm of Godforsakenness sound like?

Your grief story does not have to end with Godforsakenness. It can continue with clinging to God’s trustworthiness. In your pain and despair, what will it mean today for you to say, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”?