November 3, 2020
They That See Me
Psalm 22:7
Abandoned by God (Ps. 22:1-6) and abhorred by mankind (vv. 7— 10). Who could this be—friendless, forsaken, and betrayed by all. The answer is even more terrible than the question—God’s own Son, the uncreated, self-existing, second person of the Godhead, manifest in flesh. Surely, as we stand on the threshold of this awesome Psalm 22, we should remove the shoes from our feet, for the place whereon we stand is holy ground. The one who hung there on that cross was the one who hung the stars. Those iron bolts of Rome could have become thunderbolts in His hands to annihilate His foes. Instead, we see Him exposed to the contempt of mankind (vv. 7-10).
They laughed Him to scorn, they made faces at Him and nodded their heads at Him. They said, “He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him.” The word used here for trusted occurs nowhere else— “Roll it on Jehovah” they said, “Roll it on Him,” They jeered thus at the very time when it seemed that even God had let Him down.
Then, too, He was exposed to the cruelty of mankind (vy. 11-17). They surrounded Him, the psalmist said, like strong bulls of Bashan, like roaring lions, like wild dogs. The words paint a picture of His enemies circling the cross like so many wild beasts, Now one darts in with a taunt, now another pushes close with a wisecrack, then another with a curse.
Moreover, He was exposed to the callousness of mankind (v. 18). Now He was the turn of the soldiers. They soon tired of mocking jests and bitter taunts, and they simply turned their backs on Him. What cared they for His suffering? They had crucified people often enough before. This was just another execution. They nailed Him to the cross, dropped it into its socket with a nerve-tearing thud, then turned away to seize upon His legacy, His robe. They made short work of dividing up His garments, then they gathered around to gamble for the robe raiment angels would have worn with pride.
Had Mark Antony been there, as he had been years before at the funeral of Julius Caesar, perhaps he would have drawn special attention to that robe, as he did when he held up murdered Caesar’s robe for all the world to see. Shakespeare presents Mark Antony’s words as follows:
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle; I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on.
Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through:
The first time ever Caesar put it on.
Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through:
See what a rent the envious Casca made….
Great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there… “
Great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there… “
Did Peter, we wonder, take that robe, not in substance but in imagery, at Pentecost and spread it out, blood stained, before the people as he charged them with the murder of the Son of God? Perhaps not! But just the same he had words more eloquent, more terrible than any that Shakespeare put into the mouth of Anthony. “Him … ye have taken,” he declared, “and… have crucified and slain’ (Acts 2:23),
All their contempt, all their cruelty, and all their callousness came home to roost at Pentecost. A Spirit-emboldened Peter preached to the suddenly awakened conscience of the Jewish people.
How wonderful that by then the contempt, the cruelty, and the callousness of people was to be answered not just in conviction and condemnation but with the infinite compassion of God. The cross was no longer just a gallows. It had become an instrument of grace.