PART 2 — Jesus Understands Spiritual Struggle
Scripture:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
— Matthew 27:46
There are moments when faith does not sound like confidence. Sometimes faith sounds like a cry.
On the cross, Jesus does not speak from comfort. He speaks from agony. He does not offer a polished prayer. He does not hide His anguish. He cries out from the place of pain, rejection, humiliation, and suffering.
Matthew tells us that about the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice:
“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”
That means:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
This is one of the most sacred and sobering moments in Scripture. Jesus, the beloved Son, hangs between heaven and earth. His body is wounded. His friends have scattered. His enemies mock Him. The crowd misunderstands Him. Darkness covers the land, and Jesus gives voice to the deepest kind of human pain: the feeling of being abandoned by God.
But His cry is not empty despair. Jesus is quoting Psalm 22.
That matters.
Psalm 22 begins with the language of abandonment: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” But it does not end in abandonment. The psalm moves from anguish to trust, from suffering to testimony, from being surrounded by enemies to declaring the faithfulness of God.
So when Jesus cries out the opening line, He is carrying the whole psalm into the moment of the cross. He is not merely expressing pain. He is praying Scripture from inside His suffering. He is standing in the tradition of the righteous sufferer, the one who feels surrounded, mocked, pierced, and poured out, yet still reaches toward God.
This means Jesus’ words are not unbelief. They are lament.
Lament is not the absence of faith. Lament is faith in pain. Lament is the soul refusing to go silent before God. Lament says, “God, I do not understand what is happening, but I am still talking to You.”
This is important because many people feel guilty for struggling spiritually. They think real faith never questions. They think strong believers never cry. They think mature Christians always feel close to God. They think, “If I were stronger, I would not feel this way.”
But Jesus shows us something different.
Jesus shows us that crying out in pain is not the same as walking away from God. He shows us that honest grief can still be holy. He shows us that a wounded heart can still be a faithful heart.
Notice what Jesus says: “My God, my God.”
Even in the feeling of forsakenness, He still says “my.”
That little word matters.
He does not say, “A God.”
He does not say, “The God.”
He says, “My God.”
Pain has not erased relationship. Suffering has not destroyed covenant. Agony has not removed belonging.
This is where many of us need healing. We assume that if we feel far from God, then God must be far from us. We assume that if we feel abandoned, then we must be abandoned. We assume that if we have questions, our faith must be failing.
But Jesus teaches us that feeling forsaken is not the same as being forsaken.
Feeling unheard is not the same as being ignored.
Feeling weak is not the same as being faithless.
Feeling broken is not the same as being rejected.
Psalm 22 helps us understand this. The psalm begins in distress, but it moves toward testimony. It begins with the cry of abandonment, but it ends with witness to God’s deliverance. The suffering is real, but the suffering does not get the final word.
That is why Jesus’ cry carries both anguish and hope. His pain is not pretend. His suffering is not shallow. His agony is not symbolic. Jesus truly enters the depths of human suffering. He knows bodily pain. He knows emotional isolation. He knows public shame. He knows what it is to be misunderstood, rejected, and wounded.
And yet, even there, He prays.
That is the devotional power of this moment.
Jesus does not stand far away from spiritual struggle. He enters it. He does not condemn the brokenhearted for crying. He gives the brokenhearted language for prayer.
There are seasons when the soul cannot sing, but it can still cry. And sometimes the cry is the song.
There is a kind of faith that praises God with lifted hands. But there is also a kind of faith that whispers through tears. There is a kind of faith that shouts, “Hallelujah.” But there is also a kind of faith that says, “Lord, where are You?” There is a kind of faith that walks boldly. But there is also a kind of faith that barely crawls and still refuses to let go.
Jesus understands that kind of faith.
He understands spiritual struggle from the inside. He knows what it is to suffer while still trusting. He knows what it is to pray while in pain. He knows what it is to hold on to God when God feels hidden.
And because Jesus entered that place, your dark places are not foreign to Him.
Your questions do not scare Him.
Your tears do not repel Him.
Your confusion does not disqualify you.
Your weariness does not make you less loved.
The cross teaches us that God can be present even when God feels absent. The silence of heaven does not mean the absence of God’s love. The pain of the moment does not mean the failure of God’s purpose.
Jesus’ suffering did not mean the Father stopped loving Him. His agony did not mean redemption had failed. His cry did not cancel His mission.
In fact, the cry was part of the mission.
Jesus entered the depths of human alienation so that no person would ever suffer alone. He went into the place of forsakenness so that when we feel forsaken, we can know we are not beyond the reach of God’s love.
That is good news for the wounded soul.
You do not have to pretend with God. You do not have to clean up your grief before you bring it to Him. You do not have to turn your pain into religious language before heaven will receive it.
God can handle your questions.
God can receive your tears.
God is not threatened by honest grief.
So when you cannot explain your pain, pray it.
When you cannot understand your season, bring it to God.
When you feel abandoned, call on Him anyway.
When faith does not feel strong, let it be honest.
Because sometimes the holiest prayer is not filled with certainty.
Sometimes the holiest prayer is a cry.
And Jesus understands the cry.
Devotional Thought
Spiritual struggle does not disqualify you from God’s love. It may be the very place where God meets you most deeply.
When Jesus cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, He gave holy language to human anguish. He showed us that pain can speak to God. He showed us that lament can still be faith. He showed us that the feeling of abandonment does not have the final authority over the reality of God’s love.
You may feel far from God, but you are not outside His reach.
You may feel unheard, but you are not ignored.
You may feel weak, but you are not faithless.
You may be crying, but your cry can still be prayer.
Prayer
Jesus, thank You for entering the depths of human suffering. Thank You for showing me that lament is holy and that honest grief can still be faithful prayer.
When I feel forsaken, remind me that You understand. When I feel unheard, remind me that You are near. When I feel weak, remind me that weakness does not separate me from Your love.
Teach me to bring my questions to You instead of hiding them. Teach me to pray even when my prayers sound like cries. Teach me to trust that the story does not end in abandonment, because You have already carried suffering into redemption.
Amen.
Declaration
My questions do not separate me from God.
My tears do not disqualify me from grace.
My cries can become prayers.
My struggle can become sacred ground.
I may feel forsaken, but I am not forgotten.
Jesus understands my pain, and God’s love still holds me.