Did you ever feel that the world was passing you by, that you were on the outside looking in? Even in the hustle and bustle of our busy society, you felt unnoticed, unneeded, and unwanted? There can be a deep loneliness in modern culture that leaves many forlorn folks shedding silent tears. Our human hearts cry out against the aching agony of loneliness. So what is the answer?
The only answer to our loneliness is a long backward look to Calvary. We need to return to Him who was lonely so we might never be alone. He was alone in the desert. He was alone on the mountain. He was alone in the Garden. And He was never more alone than when He was on the cross, alone and forsaken even by His own Father. For the most part, it was one Man against the world. Literally. That was the way it had to be. Jesus had to single-handedly take on the forces of evil. He had to walk the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows, all by Himself without any assistance or support. He had to go it alone. This morning we observe another Crucial Hour of Jesus’ Passion: The Forsaking Hour.
I. Jesus Was Forsaken
Jesus became an increasingly lonely figure as His death drew near. Gone were the crowds that flocked to Him early on in His ministry. Gone were the days when there was a tremendous groundswell of support for this up-and-comer, this folk hero, this budding superstar. After He had miraculously fed that thronging multitude of five thousand, the momentum He was gathering could have swept Him right onto the throne in Jerusalem. The people would have proclaimed Him King on the spot. He was their Man of the Moment, the long-awaited Messiah, who would throw the Roman legions out of Jerusalem and Israel and rid the land of foreign domination.
But it was precisely at that peak of popularity that the mass exodus away from Jesus began. Many of the people weren’t on the same wavelength as Jesus. They wanted a physical, sword-slinging savior from the Romans, and He came as a spiritual life-bringing Savior from sins. When Jesus spoke only of spiritual things at this gathering of five thousand, a large contingent of the crowd was turned off. This was the beginning of the end of Jesus’ popularity, as John records: “From this time many of His disciples turned back and no longer followed Him.”
On Palm Sunday, Jesus’ fickle following briefly re-surfaced once more. Shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna in the highest!” accompanied His entry into Jerusalem. No doubt the people thought, ‘He’s finally making His move. Soon we’ll be free of those wretched Romans.’ So they gave Him a hero’s welcome. But the week wore on, and nothing happened. What did happen was their Hero was accused, arrested, arraigned, and assaulted. And the really maddening thing was that He never put up a fight. ‘No, this Man is an impostor. He’s no Messiah.’ Palm Sunday’s cheers were quickly replaced by Good Friday’s jeers. “Hosanna! Hosanna!” morphed into “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” His popular support evaporated into thin air in less than a week. That had to hurt. It was for these very people that Jesus had come.
The crowds had forsaken Him, but what had to hurt far worse was when He was abandoned and forsaken by His twelve disciples. First, Judas proved to be a turncoat, having never really grasped what Jesus had come to do. Then at the first hint of trouble, all the disciples looked after their own skins and scattered, as Matthew records: “All the disciples deserted Him and fled.” Now that had to devastate Jesus. These men were the insiders. They had privileged positions. They had walked and talked with Him; they had lived with and learned from Him. They had spent the better part of three years as Jesus’ constant companions learning the sacred secrets of Scripture straight from the Author’s mouth. Ironically that same night that they had forsaken Him, Jesus had exposed to them the deepest feelings of His heart: “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything I learned from the Father I have made known to you.” That evening His “friends” had shown their true colors as they turned tail and took off, forsaking their “Friend.”
Their earlier bravado had disappeared with the setting sun. Remember what happened when the Lord spoke the words of our devotion text: “This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.” Peter had vigorously protested: “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will…even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.” Unfortunately, they lacked the courage of their convictions. Now they were gone too.
Even the inner circle of Peter, James, and John, His closest comrades and confidants, took to their heels. Even Peter. Good old loyal Peter. Even Peter, who had vehemently protested Jesus’ quote from the prophet Zechariah: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.” Peter was determined that he would be the one sheep who didn’t head for the hills. Poor, deluded Peter. That very evening we hear him not once, but three times, say about Jesus, “I know not the Man.” Even Peter the Rock had been reduced to rubble as he turned his back and forsook His Savior.
The departure of His disciples had cut Him to the quick. The knife in his back was slowly, deliberately, torturously being twisted as His friends left Him in the lurch. It had to be that way. Jesus had to walk the Via Dolorosa all alone. Everyone was gone now. His fair-weather followers, His cherished church, His devoted disciples – all gone! All humanity denounced, degraded, and dismissed Him. His close friends had forsaken Him and fled. He was all alone.
All this loneliness He endured without a word, but then came the ultimate loneliness, which caused Him to shriek in anguish. As He hung dying on the cross, brought as low as a man could be, the final blow was leveled on Him: His own Father turned His back on Him and forsook Him. The Father withdrew His everlasting arms from beneath Him. This was the ultimate loneliness, the final forsakenness: separation from the Father. There is a word for that: HELL! No man has ever suffered hell on earth before. But Jesus did. His loneliness and God-forsakenness were so intense that He cried out: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani. – My God, My God, Why have You forsaken Me?”
That was a mighty good question. Why did Jesus have to be so alone? He didn’t deserve death. He didn’t deserve to be punished. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Ever. He had NEVER done anything wrong. Not even once! Talking about Jesus, the writer to the Hebrews says: “We have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin” He was innocent. Totally innocent. He had a right to ask, ‘Why?”
Isaiah explains: “He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities, the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us had turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah clearly points out that it was our sins that caused Him to be forsaken.
Jesus died very much alone, separated not only from His fellow human beings but also and especially from His own Father. It had to be that way. Again we hear from Isaiah: “I have trodden the winepress alone: from the nations no one was with me.” All alone. Jesus had to take on death all alone. He had to square off with the devil all by Himself in a winner-take-all showdown. He was carrying our sins on His shoulders, and He was paying the price in full, which included being forsaken by God. Yes, Jesus Was Forsaken by God so that…
II. We Will Never Be Forsaken
We can understand our feelings of loneliness a little better if we look at the Bible and discover the cause of this feeling of isolation: “Your iniquities have separated you from your God.” No wonder the sinner is such a lonely person by nature! Our consciences tell us that something is very wrong between God and us, and as a result, we feel isolated from Him and very much afraid. Our sin built a barrier between God and us, a barrier that makes us feel terribly alone.
The Good News is that Jesus’ death tore down that barrier between God and man. His death paid the price for all the sins that separated us from God, and we are restored to fellowship with Him. He was alone so that we might never be alone again. He was forsaken by God so that we might never be forsaken.
The Bible uses many beautiful expressions to describe this restoration of fellowship. Isaiah wrote: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you.” Paul tells us: “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Jesus Himself said, “I am the Good Shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me and I lay down my life for my sheep.” A few sheep scattered on Maundy Thursday so He could do what had to be done to draw all His sheep into the safe fold in heaven.
Saints, when we are depressed and feel all alone, the truth is that we are not alone. We may feel alone. We may feel that God hates us. We may feel that God could never forgive us for all the evil we’ve done. We may feel forsaken. We may feel damned and doomed. We may feel all those things, but understand that those are just feelings. Not facts.
The fact is that God loves us and forgives us. The fact is God didn’t just say it; He proved it. He went to the cross for us. The facts are told to us by God Himself: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will help you with my righteous right hand.”
Alone? Lonely? Forsaken? Yes, sometimes, it might seem so. But, Saints, we are never really alone. And for sure, we are never forsaken. In Christ, we have a constant Companion and a faithful Friend who never fails us, a loyal Shepherd who would never leave His sheep. We can turn to Him and pray with the faith of a child, knowing that He will hear the pleading whisper of a lonely soul:
