From Forsaken Cries to Divine Delight

DID YOU KNOW

Did you know that feeling forsaken by God can still be an act of deep faith?
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). These words carry a weight that is almost difficult to hold. They express abandonment, silence, and anguish. Yet when Jesus spoke these very words on the cross in Matthew 27:46, He was not rejecting God—He was reaching for Him. The Hebrew phrase “Eli, Eli” is intensely personal, meaning “My God, My God,” and reveals that even in perceived distance, there is still relationship. This is one of the most revealing truths of Scripture: lament is not the absence of faith; it is the language of faith under pressure. When we cry out to God, even in confusion, we are acknowledging that He alone can answer. That cry itself is an act of trust.

There is a paradox here that reshapes how we understand suffering. We often assume that strong faith eliminates feelings of abandonment, yet Scripture shows the opposite. The psalmist cries, Jesus cries, and both demonstrate that faith persists even when emotions falter. The Greek word used in the New Testament for crying out, “krazo” (κράζω), suggests a loud, urgent plea—raw and unfiltered. God does not require polished prayers; He invites honest ones. In those moments when you feel far from Him, your cry is not a failure—it is a bridge. It is evidence that your heart still knows where to turn.

Did you know that calling out to God in silence affirms His presence even when you cannot feel it?

Psalm 22 continues, “O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not… Yet thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel” (Psalm 22:2–3). Notice the shift. The psalmist moves from despair to declaration. The Hebrew word “qadosh” (קָדוֹשׁ), meaning holy, reminds us that God’s character does not change based on our circumstances. Even when the answer does not come, God remains who He is. This is where faith deepens—not in the resolution of difficulty, but in the recognition of God’s unchanging nature.

When I sit with this passage, I realize how often I measure God’s presence by my immediate experience. Yet Scripture calls me to something more stable. Faith is not rooted in what I feel, but in who God is. This is where Hebrews 8:11 becomes so meaningful: “for all shall know me.” Knowing God is not dependent on constant emotional reassurance; it is grounded in covenant relationship. Jeremiah 31:33 speaks of God writing His law on our hearts, suggesting an internal, enduring connection. Even in silence, that connection remains. The act of continuing to call out to Him becomes a declaration that He is still there, still listening, still sovereign.

Did you know that suffering for God’s purposes is never wasted but is seen and valued by Him?

The psalmist describes mockery and rejection: “All they that see me laugh me to scorn… saying, He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him” (Psalm 22:7–8). These words are echoed at the cross, where Jesus endured not only physical suffering but public humiliation. Yet Isaiah 53:10 reveals a startling truth: “Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him.” The Hebrew word “chaphets” (חָפֵץ) can mean delight or purpose. This does not mean God delights in pain itself, but that He delights in the redemptive outcome of that suffering. Jesus’ suffering was not meaningless—it accomplished salvation.

This truth extends into our own lives. When we suffer for righteousness, for faithfulness, or simply as part of living in a broken world, God does not overlook it. He sees the full picture—the beginning, the middle, and the end. What feels like loss in the moment may be part of a greater work that we cannot yet see. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 9:24–25 that our lives are like a race, requiring endurance and discipline. Suffering becomes part of that process, shaping our character and aligning us with God’s purposes. It is not wasted—it is woven into something eternal.

Did you know that trusting God in suffering is one of the clearest ways we come to truly know Him?

There is something unique about knowing God in hardship that cannot be replicated in comfort. Jeremiah 9:23–24 tells us, “Let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me.” The word “yadaʿ” again points to experiential knowledge. It is one thing to know about God’s faithfulness; it is another to experience it when everything else feels uncertain. Jesus, in quoting Psalm 22, entered fully into human suffering, not as an observer but as a participant. In doing so, He made it possible for us to know God not only in joy, but in sorrow.

This reframes suffering entirely. Instead of seeing it only as something to escape, we begin to see it as a place where God meets us in a deeper way. Psalm 19:1–2 reminds us that creation declares God’s glory continually, but suffering often reveals His nearness personally. Isaiah 55:8–9 reminds us that God’s ways are higher than ours—meaning His purposes in suffering often extend beyond our immediate understanding. Yet in the midst of it, He invites us into relationship. He is not distant; He is present in ways that reshape us from within.

As you reflect on these truths, consider where you are in your own journey. Perhaps you have felt the weight of silence, the sting of disappointment, or the confusion of unanswered prayers. This psalm does not dismiss those experiences—it gives them language. More importantly, it gives them direction. Turn your cry toward God. Let your questions become prayers. Let your pain become a place where faith takes root rather than fades. In doing so, you may discover that what feels like abandonment is actually an invitation to know God more deeply than you ever have before.

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