Albert Barnes Commentary Psalms 22

My God, my God - These are the very words uttered by the Savior when on the cross (Matthew 27:46); and he evidently used them as the best adapted of all words that could have been chosen to express the extremity of his sorrow. The fact that he used them may be referred to as some evidence that the psalm was designed to refer to him; though it must be admitted that this circumstance is no conclusive proof of such a design, since he might have used words having originally another reference, as best fitted to express his own sufferings.

The language is abrupt and is uttered without any previous intimation of what would produce or cause it. It comes from the midst of suffering—from one enduring intense agony—as if a new form of sorrow suddenly came upon him which he was unable to endure.

That new form of suffering was the feeling that now he was forsaken by the last friend of the wretched—God himself. We may suppose that he had patiently borne all the other forms of trial, but the moment the thought strikes him that he is forsaken by God, he cries out in the bitterness of his soul, under the pressure of anguish which is no longer to be borne. All other forms of suffering he could bear. All others he had borne. But this crushes him; overpowers him; is beyond all that the soul can sustain—for the soul may bear all else but this. It is to be observed, however, that the sufferer himself still has confidence in God. He addresses him as his God, though he seems to have forsaken him: My God; My God.

Why have you forsaken me? - Why have you abandoned me, or left me to myself, to suffer unaided and alone? As applicable to the Savior, this refers to those dreadful moments on the cross when, forsaken by people, he seemed also to be forsaken by God Himself. God did not interpose to rescue him, but left him to bear those dreadful agonies alone. He bore the burden of the world’s atonement by himself. He was overwhelmed with grief, and crushed with pain, for the sins of the world, as well as the agonies of the cross, had come upon him.

But there was evidently more than this; what more we are unable fully to understand! There was a higher sense in which he was forsaken by God, for no mere physical sufferings, no pains of dying even on the cross, would have extorted this cry.

If he had enjoyed the light of his Father’s countenance, if these had been merely physical sufferings, if there was nothing else than what is apparent to our view in the record of those sufferings, we cannot suppose that this cry would have been heard even on the cross.

There is evidently some sense in which it was true that the dying Savior was given up to darkness—to mental trouble, to despair, as if He who is the last hope of the suffering and the dying—the Father of mercies—had withdrawn from him; as if he were personally a sinner; as if he were himself guilty or blameworthy on account of the sins for which he was making an expiation. In some sense he experienced what the sinner will himself experience when, for his own sins, he will be at last forsaken by God and abandoned to despair.

Every word in this wonderful exclamation may be supposed to be emphatic. Why. What is the cause? How is it to be accounted for? What end is to be answered by it?

Have you. You, my Father; you, the comforter of those in trouble; you, to whom the suffering and the dying may look when all else fails.

Forsaken. Left me to suffer alone; withdrawn the light of your countenance—the comfort of your presence—the joy of your manifested favor.

Me. Your well-beloved Son; me, whom you have sent into the world to accomplish your own work in redeeming man; me, against whom no sin can be charged, whose life has been perfectly pure and holy.

Why, now, in the extremity of these sufferings, have you forsaken me and added to the agony of the cross the deeper agony of being abandoned by the God whom I love, the Father who loved me before the foundation of the world (John 17:24)?

There is a reason why God should forsake the wicked; but why should he forsake his own pure and holy Son in the agonies of death?

Why are you so far from helping me? - Margin, from my salvation. So the Hebrew. The idea is that of one who stood so far off that he could not hear the cry, or that he could not reach out the hand to deliver. .

And from the words of my roaring - The word used here properly denotes the roaring of a lion (Job 4:10; Isaiah 5:29; Zechariah 11:3); and then the outcry or the groaning of a person in great pain (Job 3:24; Psalms 32:3). It refers here to a loud cry for help or deliverance, and is descriptive of the intense suffering of the Redeemer on the cross. (Luke 23:46).

O my God, I cry in the daytime – This, in connection with what is said at the close of the verse, and in the night-season, means that his cry was incessant or constant. See the notes at Psalm 1:2. The whole expression denotes that his prayer or cry was continuous, but that it was not heard.

As applicable to the Redeemer, it refers not merely to the moment when he uttered the cry as stated in Psalm 22:1, but to the continuous sufferings which he endured as if forsaken by God and men. His life in general was of that description. The whole series of sorrows and trials through which he passed was as if he were forsaken by God; it was as if he uttered a long continuous cry, day and night, and was not heard.

But thou hearest not – You do not “answer” me. It is as if my prayers were not heard. God “hears” every cry; but the answer to a prayer is sometimes withheld or delayed, as if he did not hear the voice of the suppliant. Compare the notes at Daniel 10:12-13.

So it was with the Redeemer. He was permitted to suffer without being rescued by divine power, as if his prayers had not been heard. God seemed to disregard his supplications.

And in the night-season – As explained above, this means “constantly.” It was literally true, however, that the Redeemer’s most intense and earnest prayer was uttered in the night-season, in the garden of Gethsemane.

And am not silent – Margin, “there is no silence to me.” Hebrew: “There is not silence to me.” The idea is that he prayed or cried incessantly. He was never silent. All this denotes intense and continuous supplication, supplication that came from the deepest anguish of the soul, but which was unheard and unanswered. If Christ experienced this, who may not?

But thou art holy—You are righteous and blameless. This indicates that the sufferer still had unwavering confidence in God. Though his prayer did not seem to be heard, and though he was not delivered, he was not disposed to blame God. He believed that God was righteous, though he received no answer; he did not doubt that there was some sufficient reason why he was not answered.

This is applicable, not only to the Redeemer, in whom it was most fully illustrated, but also to the people of God everywhere. It expresses a state of mind such as all true believers in God have: confidence in him, whatever may be their trials; confidence in him, though the answer to their prayers may be long delayed; confidence in him, even if their prayers seem to be unanswered. Compare the notes at (Job 13:15).

O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel—You dwell where praise is celebrated; you seem to dwell in the midst of praises. The language here refers to the praises offered in the tabernacle or temple. God was supposed to dwell there, and he was surrounded by those who praised him.

The sufferer looks upon him as worshipped by the multitude of his people; and the feeling of his heart is that, though he himself was a sufferer—a great and apparently unpitied sufferer—though, by his afflictions, he was not permitted to unite in those lofty praises, yet he could acknowledge that God was worthy of all those songs, and that it was proper that they should be addressed to him.

Our fathers trusted in thee - This is a plea of the sufferer, drawn from the character God had manifested in former times. The argument is that God had interposed in those times when His people in trouble had called upon Him; and the sufferer now pleads with God that He would manifest Himself to him in the same way. The argument also derives additional force from the idea that the one who now pleads was descended from them, or was of the same nation and people, and that he might call them his ancestors.

As applicable to the Redeemer, the argument is that He was descended from those holy and suffering men who had trusted in God, and on whose behalf God had so often interposed. He identifies Himself with that people; He regards Himself as one of their number. He also mentions God’s merciful interposition on their behalf, and the fact that He had not forsaken them in their troubles, as a reason why He should now interpose on His behalf and save Him.

As applicable to others, it is an argument that the people of God may always use in their trials: God has thus interposed on behalf of His people of former times who trusted in Him and who called upon Him.

God is always the same. We may strengthen our faith in our trials by the assurance that He never changes; and, in pleading with Him, we may urge it as an argument that He has often interposed when the tried and afflicted of His people have called upon Him.

They trusted, and thou didst deliver them - They confided in You; they called on You; You did not spurn their prayer; You did not forsake them.

They cried to you - They offered earnest prayer and supplication.

And were delivered - From dangers and trials.

They trusted in you, and were not confounded - They were not disappointed. Literally, “they were not ashamed.” This means they did not experience the confusion that those who are disappointed feel.

The idea in the word is that when people put their trust in anything and are disappointed, they are conscious of a type of “shame,” as if they had been foolish in relying on what proved to be insufficient to help them. It is as if they had shown a lack of wisdom by not being more cautious, or by supposing they could derive help from what has proved to be fallacious.

So, in Jeremiah 14:3, “Their nobles have sent their little ones to the waters; they came to the pits, and found no water; they returned with their vessels empty; “they were ashamed and confounded,” and covered their heads.” That is, they felt as if they had acted “foolishly” or “unwisely” in expecting to find water there. Compare the notes at Job 6:20.

In the expression here, “they trusted in you, and were not confounded,” it is meant that those who confide in God are never disappointed, or never have occasion for shame as if by doing so they had acted foolishly. They are never left to feel that they had put their trust where no help was to be found, that they had confided in one who had deceived them, or that they had reason to be ashamed of their act as an act of foolishness.