Psalms 22:1 My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? Why are You so far from helping Me, And from the words of My groaning?
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.
The prophetic parallels are nothing short of astonishing. “But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised by the people” (Psalm 22:6). “All those who see Me ridicule Me; they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, ‘He trusted in the LORD, let Him rescue Him’” (Psalm 22:7–8). These taunts were hurled at Yeshua by mockers as He hung on the cross (Matthew 27:39–43). “They pierced My hands and My feet… they divide My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots” (Psalm 22:16-18). What David penned in anguish became literal history at the crucifixion. The Roman soldiers cast lots for Yeshua’s garments; His hands and feet were nailed to wood. Whether David knew it or not, he was painting a divine portrait of the crucified King.
But Psalm 22 does not end in torment. A holy reversal begins in verse 22: “I will declare Your name to My brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will praise You.” The writer of Hebrews affirms this as a prophecy of Yeshua, “who is not ashamed to call [us] brothers” (Hebrews 2:11-12). The suffering Servant rises in victory! He praises God in the congregation, shares His triumph with His people, and destroys the power of death. “All the ends of the world shall remember and turn to the LORD… for the kingdom is the LORD’s, and He rules over the nations” (Psalm 22:.27–28). The cross gave way to the crown; the Lamb became the reigning King!
And when Yeshua said, “It is finished” (John 19:30), He echoed Psalm 22:31: “They will come and declare His righteousness to a people who will be born, that He has done this.” In Hebrew, it can be rendered: “He has accomplished it.” The prophecy ends not in defeat, but with the shout of finality. Yeshua didn’t die a victim—He died a Victor. Every line of Psalm 22 came to life, and every drop of blood was part of a divine transaction. The Messiah was pierced, but He was also raised, and He will reign forever.
Let this truth grip your soul: what God begins in suffering, He finishes in glory. The cross was not the end of Yeshua’s story—and it is not the end of yours. You may feel forsaken, but you are not forgotten. He was pierced, so you could be healed. He was vindicated, so you too shall be raised in victory. The grave has no claim. The mockers have no power. The darkness has no dominion. Rise up in faith and declare with boldness to the next generation: He has done it!
Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.
Yesterday, we heard the anthem of the redeemed rise like a trumpet blast: “The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation.” We explored how this was more than personal — it was prophetic, Messianic, and generational. We saw Yeshua not only as our Deliverer but as the very embodiment of God’s strength, the melody of our praise, and the fulfillment of every promise. We stood in awe as tents of rejoicing rose in the midst of warfare, and households became sanctuaries of celebration. But today, we go deeper — we step to the well.
There’s a reason this verse resounds like a national anthem of the redeemed. It’s not just a personal declaration—it’s a generational cry that echoes back to Moses at the Red Sea (Exodus 15:2) and forward to the final deliverance of Israel. The Hebrew word for salvation—Yeshua—makes this verse unmistakably Messianic. It isn’t a vague deliverance. It is the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus), the Deliverer, who embodies strength, becomes our song, and stands as the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan.
The cry that shattered the stillness of Golgotha—“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46)—was not a random cry of despair, but the deliberate voice of Yeshua pointing to Scripture. As He hung on the tree, bearing the sin of the world, He invoked the ancient words of David—not only identifying Himself as the righteous sufferer, but signaling that Psalm 22 was unfolding before their very eyes. In that moment, heaven and earth bore witness to a divine mystery: the Holy One, seemingly abandoned, was fulfilling a prophecy written a millennium earlier. Yeshua did not merely suffer—He fulfilled every word, every shadow, every stroke of divine prophecy.