Matthew 27:45 From noon until three o’clock in the afternoon, all the Land was covered with darkness. 46 At about three, Yeshua uttered a loud cry, “Eli! Eli! L’mah sh’vaktani? (My God! My God! Why have you deserted me?)” 47 On hearing this, some of the bystanders said, “He’s calling for Eliyahu.” 48 Immediately one of them ran and took a sponge, soaked it in vinegar, put it on a stick and gave it to him to drink. 49 The rest said, “Wait! Let’s see if Eliyahu comes and rescues him.” 50 But Yeshua, again crying out in a loud voice, yielded up his spirit.
Mark 15:33 At noon, darkness covered the whole Land until three o’clock in the afternoon. 34 At three, he uttered a loud cry, “Elohi! Elohi! L’mah sh’vaktani?” (which means, “My God! My God! Why have you deserted me?”) 35 On hearing this, some of the bystanders said, “Look! He’s calling for Eliyahu!” 36 One ran and soaked a sponge in vinegar, put it on a stick and gave it to him to drink. “Wait!” he said, “Let’s see if Eliyahu will come and take him down.” 37 But Yeshua let out a loud cry and gave up his spirit. 38 And the parokhet in the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom. 39 When the Roman officer who stood facing him saw the way he gave up his spirit, he said, “This man really was a son of God!”
Have you ever been in turmoil and felt all alone?
I think this kind of defines turmoil for most people. Living with pain in your life and no real way to let it go. It feels as if this will be with you forever and no one could possibly understand what you're going through.
We then live lives of quiet desperation.
But are you really alone?
Yeshua was truly alone.
His people mocked Him, His disciples fled from Him, and His Father deserted Him. Physically beaten and publicly humiliated, here He is looking for someone, anyone, to come alongside Him.
But who?
Talk about a dark moment in life. Imagine how dark it is in death.
I think we all feel like we’re deserted when we go through a trial. It seems as though you have no one to talk to, and even if you did have someone, what would you say? Can words really express what you’re feeling? Besides, most people don’t know how to respond to someone in pain anyway so they just lean into packaged responses:
“Oh, sorry to hear about your loss. You know God comforts those that are mourning, right?”
“Oh, your child is a prodigal? Well, the Bible says they will eventually come home…”
“Oh, you feel like you have no value? Don’t forget you are fearfully and wonderfully made…and don’t forget about the plan that He has for you…and, uh…”
This isn’t done because people don’t care. It’s because nobody really knows how to deal with pain. Not yours, and most certainly not their own.
Quiet desperation, remember?
What actually is the problem with pain? With all of the people that have ever lived, shouldn’t we have a playbook that sheds some light on how we are to navigate it and help those that are in it?
Now, it isn’t that this has been totally ignored. There’s an entire wedge of secular study wholly dedicated to helping people sort it all out. But it has definite limitations. Once the professionals get past the top few layers, they are left with prescribing something to cover up the rest. Getting too far into the issue is oftentimes too much for most people to bear. The pros go as far as they can with the permission they’re given and and the root cause is left unchecked.
It then turns into a lifelong pursuit for so many people to simply “deal” with their lives.
Quiet desperation, remember?
This gets even worse for a believer. Not only do you have all of the problems everyone else has but now you have to pretend like you don’t. And the longer you’re in the game the better you have to get at pretending.
Quiet desperation, remember?
The more the pressure mounts, the more we need an outlet. And since we can’t show our cards to those outside the home, we have to turn within. Annoyance, frustration, strife and contention grow in the home because all of that pain has to escape somehow. It leaks out in our sharp tongue and anger with our spouse then unwarranted explosions on the kids. Dishonor then amplifies as they watch you be a hypocrite in public. More pain. But this time it’s of your own making.
Pushing it further down, we run through the cycle at an even deeper level. And we keep cycling until we are totally alone.
What’s fascinating is that the more healing you get, the more true pain you experience. I know this makes no sense, but bear with me.
The pain we experience due to wounds (and our own selfishness) is always inwardly focused. We continually consider the injustices, harsh words, and unfair treatment we experienced at the hands of someone else. This inward focus impacts how we feel, how we see things, and how we interact with others. Darkness prevails.
Once we are healed, however, we then start to see the world and everyone in it through Abba’s eyes. And a new pain is introduced. You begin to see the brokenness all around you, and you may have seen it before, but this time it’s with a heart of compassion. You watch people make decisions that you know will usher in even more trouble in their lives and it grieves you instead of annoys you. This outward focus impacts how we feel, how we see things, and how we interact with others. The Light begins to dawn.
Don’t rejoice just yet because here’s the rub -- you again are alone.
There is a disconnect with those at the watercooler because you aren’t doing what they do. There is a disconnect with your neighbors because you aren’t like them anymore. There is a disconnect with those in the church because you are becoming way too focused on God (“seriously, calm down and come back into the real world”).
There simply aren’t very many people you relate to. Subsequently, you have very few friends.
Most people can live ok at this level because they understand what’s going on. But what happens when God hides His face from you and/or withdraws? Now you are truly alone.
How do you navigate this newfound space?
Wouldn’t it be great if you could just yell out in front of God and everybody how you feel?
“Eli! Eli! L’mah sh’vaktani? (My God! My God! Why have you deserted me?)”