The theme for our Good Friday service and Easter service this year is “Suffering Messiah/Sovereign Messiah.” And the passage we want to focus our attention on for both services is Psalm 22.

 Psalm 22 is a remarkable psalm that emphasizes both the suffering of Messiah Jesus, but also the kingship of Messiah Jesus. We’ll focus on suffering tonight. We’ll focus on kingship on Sunday. 

 There is a two-fold way to assess Psalm 22. Psalm 22 is a lament. And it’s what we might call a messianic lament, as David channels the future pain and suffering of the greater David to come. As most laments in the Psalter, this psalm is melancholic and somber. And that lasts until about verse 22. At that point, the psalm elevates to another world in verses 22–31. It changes emotionally. It changes topically. It changes thematically. That’s not uncommon with laments in the Psalter. But this lament has a stark and abrupt transition. That’s the two-fold way to assess this psalm.

 But more precisely, this psalm is three-fold. Its structure clearly delineates between verses 1–11, verses 12–21, and then verses 22–31. So what David gives us here is the turmoil of the messiah, the torment of the messiah, and then finally the triumph of the Messiah. Tonight we will focus strictly on the turmoil and the torment.  

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The turmoil is recorded starting in verse 1 where David writes.

1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? 

These are the words that Jesus uttered from the cross. These emotions must have been originally felt and written by David, but his anguish was nowhere near the anguish of Jesus on the cross. 

David adds, 

Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? 

The Hebrew word for “groaning” here is the same word translated the “roaring” of the lion later in this psalm. There’s an animalistic quality to this word. It’s as if David is a wounded animal gutturally moaning for God’s help. He’s anguished by something. We don’t know what. 

 In verse 2, he writes,

2 O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest. 

3 Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. 

In other words, “I’m suffering, Lord, but I know that’s not because you have done something wrong to me.” “I’m suffering, Lord. And that can mean a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean that you are unholy.” That’s something to keep in mind in the midst of our suffering. 

In verse 4 he writes, 

4 In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. 

5 To you they cried and were rescued; in you they trusted and were not put to shame. 

In other words, “You have a spotless track-record, God.” “Yes, I’m suffering. But it would be a mistake to let my suffering rob me of faith and trust in you.” Can faith in God coexist with suffering? You’d better believe it! 

And think once again of Jesus, the night before he was crucified, trusting God and embracing the plan of redemption, even as he was agonizingly praying, sweat mixed with blood, and saying, “Take this cup from me… yet not my will but yours be done” (see Matt 26:36-56).

In verse 6, David continues with the turmoil.

6 But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people. 

7 All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads; 

It’s unclear to me what “making mouths at me” means in Hebrew. This must have been some kind of rude gesture in ancient Israel, maybe something akin to our rude gestures in modern America. I don’t want to speculate.

But the wagging of heads is something that people have been doing for thousands of years. I can see people coming to David and shaking their heads at him in disapproval. Maybe because he has just lost a battle. Maybe because his kids are out of control, and people are angry at him. That actually happened with David! Maybe because he’s the anointed king, but there are still people that are loyal to Saul as Saul is chasing him throughout the Judean wilderness. And people are wagging their heads at him, tut-tutting him for his failures. I don’t know. 

The image that David is projecting into the future here is a foreshadow of Jesus on the cross. He was crucified publicly as a warning to the people. He was stripped and hanged on a tree on a heavily populated street going in and out of Jerusalem. The Romans did that for maximum exposure and maximum embarrassment. And people wagged their heads at Jesus too (see Matt 27:39).  

In verse 8, David records the sarcastic taunts of his enemies. 

8 “He trusts in the Lord; let [the Lord] deliver [David]; let [the Lord] rescue [David], for [David] delights in [the Lord]!” 

David records in verse 8 the taunts of his enemies, but they aren’t just taunting David. They are taunting David’s God. They are taunting Yahweh. 

Here’s David’s reply to their taunts in verse 9. He doesn’t reply to those who taunt him. He just prays to God.

9 Yet you are he [God] who took me from the womb; you [God] made me trust you at my mother’s breasts. 

10 On you was I cast from my birth, and from my mother’s womb you have been my God. 

11 Be not far from me, for trouble is near, and there is none to help. 

There is no עֵזֶר [ezer]. Eve was given to Adam as an עֵזֶר [“helper”] in Genesis 2. But God is “the עֵזֶר extraordinaire” in the book of Psalms. David knows that. He’s experienced that. He’s written about that in the Psalms. But right now, in the midst of this great turmoil, he laments, “there is none to help.” 

If you remember, Jesus was in a similar place of helplessness in the Garden of Gethsemane when he was being arrested. And Peter, wanting to help him, drew his sword. And Jesus told him, “Put your sword back into its place… Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matt 26:52–53). Jesus was not without God as his helper. But God the Father voluntarily set aside that help in order that Jesus might suffer for our sins and absorb God’s wrath so that we might escape it. Let me say it this way. God the Father withdrew his help of the Son, so that the Son, in his death, might be a help to us, in terms of salvation. 

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So that’s the turmoil recorded in verses 1–11. It’s as if David is in a Messianic trance, channeling the turmoil to come a thousand years later in Christ Jesus. And that intensifies in the verses to follow. We move from emotional turmoil to physical and emotional torment. 

David writes in verse 12. Speaking of emotional torment…

12 Many bulls encompass me; strong bulls of Bashan surround me; 

Bashan refers to the fertile country north and east of the Sea of Galilee, near Mount Hermon. “It was well known for its stately trees (Isa. 2:13; Zech. 11:2) and its well-fed domesticated animals (Deut. 32:14; Ezek. 39:18; Amos 4:1).” So bulls of Bashan refers to strong, well-fed, intimidating, bovine creatures.

13 they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion. 

Oftentimes in our dreams, we are tormented by animals that are chasing us. I don’t know why that is. But there’s a lot of that in this psalm—bulls, strong bulls, lions, dogs, and wild oxen. There’s roaring and ravening and encircling and the threat of goring. David likens his enemies to beasts that terrify and torture him.

Verse 14 says, 

14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; 

Literally “innards” in Hebrew. My heart has melted into my innards. That’s a vivid picture. His courage has failed him. He is physically and emotionally spent. 

Verse 15 says,  

15 my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death. 

Think about one of Jesus’s statements from the cross, “I thirst” (John 19:28). That was a remarkable demonstration of his humanity. He wasn’t a phantom being pretending to suffer on the cross. No, he experienced what we would have experienced in that moment, namely dehydration. 

Verse 16 says,

16 For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet— 

Probably a better translation of verse 16 is they have bored holes in my hands and feet. I don’t know how that would make sense in David’s day as a metaphor. Perhaps he’s talking about the dogs who bite and snap at hands and feet. 

But from an NT perspective, we understand that something more precise was meant here. The form of execution known as crucifixion hadn’t even been invented yet in David’s day. But a thousand years later it would be used by the Romans to humiliate the worst criminals and insurrectionists as a deterrent for other would-be insurgents against Rome. And in Jesus’s case they hammered nails or more precisely spikes into his hands and his feet. 

By the way, when you see “dogs” in verse 16 and in verse 20, don’t think your little domesticated chihuahua named Chico. And don’t think your trusty labradoodle, hunting dog named Ranger either. Dogs in ancient Israel were nasty and vicious scavengers. They were mongrels. They were more like hyenas than domesticated pets. So “dogs encompass me” in verse 16 is not a positive picture.

In verse 17, David writes,

17 I can count all my bones— they stare and gloat over me; 

Think Jesus on the cross with his hands stretched out. The bones from his ribs are exposed for all to see. 

18 they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots. 

Verse 18 is directly quoted in the Gospels (John 19:24; see also Matt 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34). I don’t know what incident David is describing here. I don’t know if he actually went through something like this, or if he is just metaphorically describing his pain. But these things actually happened with the greater David to come. These prophecies were actualized in Christ Jesus on the cross.

Verse 19 says, 

19 But you, O Lord, do not be far off! O you my help, come quickly to my aid! 

God the Father did come to Christ’s rescue… three days later. 

20 Deliver my soul from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dog! 

God the Father did deliver Christ’s precious life … three days later.  

21 Save me from the mouth of the lion! You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen! 

Deliver me. Save me. Rescue me. There’s so much salvation language in this psalm. This is a salvation psalm. This is a messianic psalm. But it’s also a suffering psalm. How do all those things come together? How do we reconcile the suffering of our messiah with the salvation of our messiah? 

Look, I don’t think David and his cohorts really knew how to reconcile this. I don’t know if David… in moments like this when he was writing Psalm 22… I don’t know if he truly grasped that his later great grandson to come would suffer for him and for others in order to save them. Psalm 22 puts that all together. And we can see God’s purpose in this. We can see that David’s turmoil and David’s torment foreshadowed the turmoil and torment of Jesus. 

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So, there’s the turmoil of the messiah, there’s the torment of the messiah, and then finally there’s the triumph of the Messiah. Thankfully Psalm 22 doesn’t end at verse 21. Paul puts this altogether this way in the NT, “though [Jesus] was in the form of God, [he] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil 2:6–11). More on that triumph of the Messiah on Easter Sunday. 

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Here’s what I want to do now to punctuate our time of reflection on Good Friday, 2025. We’re going to take communion together as an act of remembrance of the turmoil and the torment that Christ endured for us at the cross. But we are also going to take communion as a celebration of what’s to come. Jesus said on the night before he died, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God” (Luke 22:15–16). So from our vantage point, as we take communion, we do it with one eye looking backwards at what Christ did for us on the cross. He was the Passover lamb that suffered for our salvation. But we also do it with one eye looking forward towards the future. We anticipate Christ’s return and the establishment of his eternal kingdom, when we will dine with Jesus at the marriage supper of the lamb. 

In other words, communion remembers our suffering messiah and it celebrates our sovereign messiah. Let’s do that now.