The Faithful Word
A sermon based on Matthew 27:45-46
Sunday, March 4th, 2018 – Lent 3
His car broke down in a not so nice part of town. To make matters worse, his cell battery was dead. So he figured he had no other option than to walk. Well, before long, his worst fear came true. Half a dozen men surrounded him and demanded that he give them his wallet, his phone, and his shoes. And even though he didn't resist and gave them all he asked, they proceeded to beat on him mercilessly. When he fell to the ground, they kicked and stomped the man until he was broken and bleeding on the sidewalk. And there the gang left him, struggling to even call for help.
Before long a local pastor drove past. He saw the young man, struggling to raise his hand as a silent plea for help. But the pastor didn't want to get involved. He didn't know where the gang was. He didn't want to get hurt himself. So he drove on, justifying his failure to help by reminding himself of the important meeting he was going to.
It wasn't long after that that the principal of the local church school also drove past. He thought to himself, "It is unfortunate what has become of our neighborhood." And he started thinking of a way to teach his students about compassion, and helping our fellow man. But he too drove on, doing nothing to help the man.
And there he lay, the broken and bleeding man, in misery and pain, feeling all alone, feeling totally forsaken.
The third word or phrase that Jesus spoke from the cross is entirely different from all the rest. It's a prayer that God the Son prayed to God the Father… but it was a prayer that went unheard! Because God the Father had forsaken God the Son, even though he was faithful in all he did. Nevertheless, Jesus was forsaken by the Father and spoke this faithful word, so that you and I might never be forsaken. Our text for consideration is taken from Matthew 227:45-46…
45 From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. 46 About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
Forsaken. Completely and utterly forsaken. Have you ever felt that way? No one understands what you're going through… No one gets the pain you feel… No one steps in to help… all alone, completely forsaken? Ever felt such lonely darkness?
Well, before we focus on the pain you and I may have felt, let's pause to consider the pain that you and I have caused. Sometimes we cry out to God, "God, why have you forsaken me?" but the truth of the matter is that we have forsaken God. We have turned from him. We have gone astray.
Completely and utterly forsaken. That's how we've left God. "Take a bold stand for me! Don't be ashamed of me. Don't pretend you don't know me," God requests of us. But when the topic of religion comes up at work, we clam up. We don't say a word. And we forsake him.
"Use some—not all, just some—of the wealth I rain down on you, to show the world what I mean to you, to advance the spread of the gospel, to educate the next generation to know me better," God pleads with us. But when we take an honest look at our budgets, we see that far too much was spent on ourselves, on our selfish interests, on our entertainment… and far too little spent on things that will last for eternity. And we forsake him.
"Fight against the temptations that come to you. Don't embrace them. Struggle. Grow. And win more battles for me," God asks, begging us to put him first in our lives. But we say, "No thanks, God. This temptation is too strong. This struggle is too hard. I'd rather just give in." And we forsake him.
Of course, you know what we deserve for forsaking God every time things get tough, every time it looks like we might have to make a sacrifice, every time we're threatened with persecution, or pain, or just mild inconvenience… we deserve to be forsaken by him. And that's what we call "hell," being completely forsaken by God, abandoned by him and his love. We deserve eternal darkness.
Thank God, then, for our faithful Savior. Who left his heavenly home to be forsaken by God. When Jesus cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" his original audience would have recognize the opening verse of Psalm 22. And many would have recalled other parts of that Psalm that vividly portray the Messiah's crucifixion (even before crucifixions were invented):
"I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people. All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads: "He trusts in the Lord; let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him." (Psalm 22:6-8) "My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death. Dogs have surrounded me; a band of evil men has encircled me, they have pierced my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones; people stare and gloat over me. They divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing." (Psalm 22:15-18)
With his cry of abandonment, Jesus underscored the prophetic nature of His death. This was no accident, no simple miscarriage of justice, no quirk of history. His death in the darkness was written into every book of the Old Testament. And for those familiar with the Old Testament prophets, it was easily misunderstood. Those who heard Jesus misheard him and thought he was calling out for Elijah to save Him. So they offered Jesus a drink of sour wine and waited to see if Elijah would come.
But no Elijah came. No one came to help Jesus. He was all alone in the darkness. And really, his cry wasn't a cry for help, but a cry of anguish out of the depths of hell itself, from the agony of being abandoned by God the Father, completely forsaken. This is the hell—the total abandonment—that he endured for us. He suffered our abandonment, our darkness, our sin, our death, our hell…
He became the sinner, damned under God's wrath, cursed on the tree. He is the adulterer, the thief, the murderer, the idolater. He is you. He is me. "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21).
And as he was forsaken by God on the cross… as he endured that hell… he put himself into our killing fields, into our death camps and concentration camps… he put himself into our abortion clinics, our prisons… our homes. He went into all the "God-forsaken" places where humans have cried out in despair, "Where are you, God? Why have you forsaken us?" And he actually was forsaken by God to win forgiveness for the depths of mankind's depravity, for the vilest of evil we've done, for the heartless words and deeds you and I have spoken and done.
And he took it all away. By his perfect life, he gives us perfection. He trusted the Father, even from the cross, to trust for us. He prayed for us. He cried out for us. He suffered for us. He died for us. And now, he embraces us and gives us the promise that he will never leave us. He will never forsake us. Hebrews 13:5-6 says, "God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.' So we say with confidence, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?'"
Maybe you caught on that my introduction to this sermon was just a modern retelling of Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan. Then you know how the story really ended. The priest (or pastor in my story) and the Levite (or principal) both passed by the man that must have felt totally forsaken and completely alone. But there was one who came to help. He picked up the broken and bleeding man. He helped him get to the hospital. He paid every expense for his healing.
That's what Jesus has done for us. We may have felt forsaken in the darker days we've faced, but we never were. He's always been with us, fighting for us, helping us grow, helping us put our trust in him. And he was actually forsaken by God the Father on the darkest of days when the sun itself stopped shining. He was forsaken for us so that we never will be.
Now, in thanks to Jesus, we're eager to be that Good Samaritan to others. When you see others who seem to be all alone, who are clearly going through some dark days, who seem to have been forsaken by everyone else, go befriend them. Pull over to the side of the road and pick up the bruised and bleeding. Go over to the other side of the breakroom and offer a word of encouragement. Cross over to the other side of the street and invite them to hear of the one who spoke that faithful word and was forsaken for them so that they will never be forsaken by him.
Even though we've forsaken God, he's never forsaken us. In fact, because we've forsaken God, he forsook his Son. Jesus was forsaken for us to pay for our sins, so that we will never be forsaken by him. Now, forsake your sin. Forsake God no more! And live for him who died for you.
I'll end with the words of the hymn writer:
"Tell me, as you hear him groaning, Was there ever grief like his?
Friends through fear his cause disowning, Foes insulting his distress,
Many hands were raised to wound him, None would intervene to save,
But the deepest stroke that pierced him Was the stroke that justice gave." And now, as a result…
"Here we have a firm foundation, Here the refuge of the lost;
Christ's the rock of our salvation, His the name of which we boast.
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded, Sacrifice to cancel guilt –
None shall ever be confounded Who on him their hope have built." (CW #127, v.2,4)
In Jesus' name, dear friends. Amen.
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