At 3:00 on the first Good Friday, Jesus had been on the cross in unutterable agony for six hours, and he called out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
I’ve always believed those words were Jesus’ prayer to God, his Father—words coming from the anguish of Jesus’ humanity, a quote from an ancient Psalm which ends in joy. But, yesterday, I heard those words in a different light. What if Jesus was speaking to us?
I close my eyes and see him on the cross. Human body, mind and emotions are weakened to the point of death. But, as God, his omniscience never fails.
On the cross, he can see each person who has ever been or ever will be born, and he loves each one as though he/she is the only one, choosing this ignominious death to save the one he loves from eternal death.
He sees me. He sees each time I fail him.
As God, he can be patient and merciful with me. But, as a man, he feels his skin hanging in tatters, the nails through his hands and feet and his dislocated shoulders straining at the dead weight of his limp body. The reflection of his agony in the eyes of his mother intensifies his pain.
My abandonment of him is the last straw for Jesus, the man. His mind screams, “I did all this for you, so that you can live forever. How can you be so cavalier about this gift?”
He turns to his Father, asking him to save me—not for God to save him, but rather for God to save me.
His body is weak, in minutes he will be dead. Words come hard.
His prayer for me comes out, “My God! My God!”
His lamentation at my betrayal, “Why have you forsaken me?”
Dear Jesus,
Please forgive me for the times I have betrayed you. Let me never again forsake you, because you have never forsaken me.
Amen