Where Was God that Friday?

“Where Was God that Friday?”

Matthew 27:27-54

First Presbyterian Church

The Reverend Donald E. Ray

April 22, 2011

Good Friday

How did the rough hewn, splintery cross, probably the cruelest instrument of execution ever devised become in the mind of Isaac Watts, the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died . . . love so amazing, so divine? On the day we call Good Friday, that is not an easy question to answer. Tradition tends to focus on the ugliness of the cross, the agony of Jesus, the painful sadness of those who grieved his death. During my early years in ministry, our neighborhood churches held a three hour service correlating with the three hours of darkness as Jesus was dying. Area pastors preached on the seven last words of Jesus from the cross. The service was in itself something to suffer through.

Easter morning, with the polished brass cross shining from the Communion table, it would be easier to sing Watts ’ hymn, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross. But this is Good Friday, amid all the ugliness.

Traditionally, the fourth of the seven words from Matthew’s and Mark’s Gospels is Jesus’ quote from the 22^nd Psalm, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Were that phrase to stand alone, it would seem that the cross, on Golgotha hill was a God forsaken place that day. Matthew tells us those who had come to watch didn’t even recognize the Psalm. Thinking he was calling Elijah, one ran to get some liquid for Jesus to stave off the dehydration hastening his death; they wanted to see if Elijah would come and save him. But there would be no magical rescue. If the people had known their faith history, they would have known Elijah did not find God in the spectacular, the wind, nor earthquake, nor fire. It was in the still, quiet voice that Elijah sensed the presence of God. I think it not beyond the realm of likelihood that Jesus prayed Psalm 22 to its conclusion, and in that peace, he died.

Then came the drama - the ground shook, rocks split, tombs opened - that grabbed the attention of the Roman officer assigned to crucifixion duty, a duty so gruesome the soldiers had to gamble for rags as a distraction. “Truly this man was God’s son.” the centurion exclaimed. (Matthew 27:54)

But as is so often true in the Gospels, it is not the spectacular that is the important story. Matthew writes that at the moment of Jesus’ death, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. (Matthew 27:51)

Where was God that Friday? Not hiding away in the holiest inner bowels of the temple where only the priest consecrated for the season could go. Where was God that Friday? As Paul preached to the Athenians, in God we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28) Matthew writes of the birth of Jesus, they shall name him Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.” (Matthew 1:23) As Matthew narrates the events of that Friday, it was in death that eyes were opened in awareness of God’s presence in life, in living and dying, and in death.

Probably the most well known passage of Scripture is the 23^rd Psalm. When I read it in a funeral service, I can watch people mouthing the words with me. In many of the circumstances for which I am called as minister for a funeral, the people have minimal if any link with church, but they know Psalm 23. Would that they knew Psalm 22 as well. I am convinced it is no accident that the beauty, serenity and hope of the 23^rd Psalm follows the 22^nd. Considered as a Psalm of lament, I think there is no greater expression of faith.

Asked to identify a favorite verse from the Bible or a choice hymn, I usually respond; “It depends on the day.” Often it is the chapter I just read or the hymn I just sang. But ranking consistently among my favorites across much of my life is this 22^nd Psalm. Surely, my experience as chaplain sharing with people at critical times in their life has influenced my selection. The Psalm oscillates repeatedly from anger to faith. It begins in rage intense and faith weak. Through its progression, the anger mellows and the faith becomes stronger and intimate.

The story of Jesus, the Christ is called “Gospel” good news. There is no good news in an absentee god, especially in time of greatest need. There is certainly no good news in god who becomes executioner of the one who called God Father, in the name of sacrifice to appease a vengeful deity. There is at best little good news in god that perpetuates existence for some with indiscriminate miracles.

It would seem to be common to human nature that we are grateful believers when things are well and life is good; we succumb to doubt and despair when our fortunes falter. But that is to be human. The point of the 22^nd Psalm is that it is good when we are human with integrity. It is as we are forthright with our doubts and distress that we find God accepts us and wraps us in love and we are rescued from cynicism and bitterness, even in the worst of times. God is faithful, steadfast. We may waver and falter in our journey, but we journey in love every stumbling step as well as every confident stride. That Friday, God was not causing the death of Jesus to work some cosmic plan for saving humanity. That Friday, we can see the God presence in the midst of the worst that humanity in sin can do.

The author of the New Testament Hebrews letter casting Jesus, the Christ in the role of high priest writes:

Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it’s logical the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the devil’s hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death. (Hebrews 2:14-15MSG)

Golgotha , that Friday was not God forsaken. It was where one dying alone in agony could cry out in pain and find again the God of faith and love and hope.

For God did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted;

He did not hide his face from me,

But heard when I cried to him.

(Psalm 22:24)

It’s a leap of faith from the rough hewn, splintery cross of Friday to Isaac Watts’ Wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died . . .love so amazing, so divine! But our life, our living and dying, our death is in God, so it isn’t an impossible leap.

Amen.

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