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 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
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.