“My God, My God—
For What Reason Did You Forsake Me?”
A Devotional Reflection on Jesus’ Cry from the Cross—Dr. John D. Schwandt
“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”
— Mark 15:34 (quoting Psalm 22:1)
Through bloody parched lips, Jesus utters a cry that bewildered many on that day and continues to do so today.
We hear it and feel its weight. But then the questions come flooding in:
How could Jesus say this?
Was the Trinity somehow fractured in that moment?
Did the Father truly abandon the Son?
Before we rush to resolve those questions with theology textbooks and systematic frameworks, we must pause.
Because something deeper is happening here—something tender, powerful, and personal.
This Is the Age-Old Question—Perhaps the Most Important Question
Have you ever asked:
Why is this happening, Lord?
Why this pain, this loss, this silence?
King David asked it in Psalm 22.
My God, my God, why did you forsake me? Why are you so far from saving me?
So far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer.
On the cross, we see Jesus crying out with this ancient question after mockers asked why, as Lord, that He wouldn’t save Himself.
This theme is also explicitly present in Psalm 22.
All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. “He trusts in the Lord,” they say, “let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.”
His cry isn’t a trinitarian puzzle to solve—it is a witness to His love for us and an invitation for us to identify with Him. Not only does Jesus take on the punishment for our sins, but He also validates our struggles and lets us know that He sees us, which is something David questioned.
This is our deepest “Why?” as well—but He finds clarity and comfort in the unspoken answer.
The Cry Is Real—but So Is the Relationship
Now here’s the next moment of clarity:
Even in that cry, Jesus still says, “My God.”
This isn’t despair. This is the relationship bearing the pain.
This is not faith unraveling—it’s faith enduring.
We often assume “forsaken” must mean “cut off.” But that’s not what’s happening here. In fact, Psalm 22—the psalm Jesus is quoting—goes on to say:
He has not hidden his face from him, but has listened to his cry for help.
It only takes the first few words of the Psalm to bring the whole thing to mind. Jesus is not crying out in vain to an unhearing Father. He is taking solace and comfort from his listening Father, who will not hide His face from Him—even when He is difficult to look upon. His cry is an acknowledgment of the abandonment of everything due to a king, and replacing it with the opposite: disrespect, embarrassment, ridicule, scorn, torture, pain, and execution—but all of this for a noble purpose.
Jesus Knew the Answer to His Question—and That’s Why He Asked It
Jesus wasn’t confused. He knew exactly what was happening, why He was doing it, and what the result would be.
The next word in His cry is “Why.”
The meaning of “why” in this statement is “for what reason.” He is not asking about the causes that resulted in His death sentence. It is the type of “why” that refers to the result or goal of the execution.
There are at least two listeners involved in prayer: our Lord and ourselves. It is good for us to hear ourselves cry out in honesty, faith, and hope (even in pain and complete weakness), versus crying out in doubt and despair.
Jesus isn’t despairing with words that fell on deaf ears. By naming that He didn’t deserve this (i.e., He had been forsaken), He can find rest in the good that will come of it.
Consider the cries of a mother in labor with her first child, uncertain and fearful of the amount of pain that is occurring, but very certain of the good that will shortly come, and the determination to see it through. Often, it is focusing on the reason we are willing to endure the pain that provides continued or renewed endurance and peace. It is an “eye on the prize” mindset.
In Jesus’s final circumstance, staring death in the face, He asks His loving Father to remind him what all this is for—and assures His own heart that He will redeem His church.
This is the heart of redemption.
The cross doesn’t shout “God is absent.”
It shouts “God is willing.”
Willing to be pierced.
Willing to suffer.
Willing to not rescue His own Son—so He could rescue you.
So, Was Jesus Really “Forsaken”?
Let’s look closer.
The Greek word (ἐγκαταλείπω) for “forsaken” in this verse is the same word used in many passages in the Bible that express how God will not forsake His own—e.g., Psalm 22, Deuteronomy 31:6 and 8, Hebrews 13:5, and others:
“I will never leave you or forsake you.”
How can Jesus be forsaken if the Father promises never to forsake?
The answer is this: Jesus was not forsaken in relationship—but in rescue.
The Father did not turn away from the Son—He refused to intervene.
He did not abandon Jesus—He entrusted Him to suffering for a greater purpose.
This wasn’t divine abandonment. It was divine alignment—with a mission of mercy.
Even the Grammar Matters
The verb in this cry is typically translated dramatically with an English perfect tense—“have you forsaken”—when the Greek uses a simple past: “Why did you forsake me?”
This is key.
It’s not a description of an ongoing condition, but a pinpointed summary of the event—a past reference, not a rejection, and not a suggestion that the Father couldn’t look on Jesus for the next three hours. The focus is on what has just happened—all the shaming detailed in Psalm 22.
Jesus is saying, in essence:
“Father, why didn’t You stop this? Why didn’t You let this cup pass?”
But even in asking, He knows.
This was the plan. This was the price.
And that price is the proof of love.
He Drank the Cup—So We Could Have the Promise
Earlier in the garden, Jesus prayed, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me.”
Now, on the cross, He has drunk it to the last drop.
And what does He feel?
The full weight of sin.
The silence of heaven.
The absence of deliverance.
But not the absence of love.
Not the absence of the Father’s presence.
Not the breaking of the Trinity.
The Son still speaks to the Father.
The Father still hears.
And in that, we learn a stunning reality:
Even at your lowest, your darkest, your most broken context—God is still with you because of Christ’s sacrifice.
We learn from our Lord firsthand how to endure suffering. We don’t have to minimize the pain to find relief. We look to the rock-solid love that the Lord has for us—and when we are ready, look for blessings beyond it.
The Real Power of the Cross
It’s not the intensity of the suffering that makes the cross sufficient.
It’s not how long Jesus hung there, or how badly He was beaten. We don’t have to do the “eye for eye” math on Jesus’ suffering to ensure that His suffering matched the punishment for every sin ever committed or that will be committed.
The sufficiency comes from who He is.
Only the sinless, blameless, perfect Son of God could offer Himself as a ransom for many. He rightfully is the representative for all humankind—except that He is perfectly blameless.
One slap would have been infinitely undeserved.
His punishment and death are not a tragic end—it’s the triumphant offering of the perfect lamb to replace our death sentence with eternal life. So perfect is the lamb that He is the final offering ever needed for every sin, no matter how gross.
You can cry out to the Lord because He allowed your punishment to be laid upon Him.
The pain is real.
The high cost is a testimony to how much He values the prize.
His cry rhetorically asks:
What is the prize for all this?
The answer: you.
Why Did the Father Allow It?
Let’s ask the question again:
Why did the Father forsake Jesus, allowing Him to be tortured, humiliated, and crucified?
It couldn’t have been easy for the Father to send His willing Son for this mission and watch Jesus endure the cross for His prize—but He had to be so proud of the faithfulness demonstrated in that hour.
Why did the Father forsake to deliver Jesus?
Because of His faithfulness to His promise to dwell with His people.
Because truth and justice demanded satisfaction.
Because He was claiming His inheritance—you.
Because fellowship wasn’t broken—it was poured out and demonstrated, through love, to make you part of it.
The Paradox of Suffering
God with us is both the primary promise and the central paradox presented throughout Scripture.
In His cry from the cross, Jesus reveals that there is a way for God to be fully with His chosen one—and with the people He is redeeming.
The Father forsook delivering Jesus from the cross—but never for a moment did He forsake Him relationally. In the greatest act of love in history, their bond endured and blossomed.
Just as David asked why the Lord had forsaken him—only to later affirm that God would never forsake him—Jesus expresses that same situational forsaking, but holds firm to the Lord’s promised presence.
When Jesus cried out, “Why?” He did more than express agony and strengthen His heart for its purpose. He held up a mirror to every human heart that longs for the Lord’s presence in suffering.
And through that question, He leads us to the greatest answer the world has ever known:
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)
He didn’t forsake His relationship or His love for Jesus.
He won’t forsake you.
So today, if you find yourself in a place of pain, loss, or silence, remember:
Jesus has been there.
He asked your question.
And His answer—and His gift—to you was the cross.
I invite you to share your thoughts about the devotional and encouragement for others below.