Psalm 22: Lament Psalms
Spoken Gospel podcast with a photo of David and Seth

Psalm 22: Lament Psalms

About This Episode

How does Psalm 22 reflect Jesus' Crucifixion? In this episode, David and Seth are joined by author Cameron Cole to discuss Psalm 22, and how in our suffering, God hears and understands the pain, sorrow, and misery that comes in this life, because he suffered the loss of his son Jesus on the cross. Cameron Cole has been the Director of Youth Ministries at the Cathedral Church of the Advent for 14 years in Birmingham, Alabama, and as of January 2016, his role has developed to include Children, Youth, and Families. He is also the Founding Chairman of Rooted Ministry, an organization that promotes Gospel-Centered Student Ministry and Youth Ministry. He is also the Co-Editor of "Gospel-Centered Youth Ministry: A Practice Guide" (Crossway, 2016). He is pursuing a Masters in Divinity from Reformed Theological Seminary.

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Psalm 22, Lament, and the God Who Meets Us in Suffering

Show Notes

David Bowden and Seth Stewart welcome Cameron Cole to the Spoken Gospel Podcast for a conversation about Psalm 22, the psalms of lament, and what it looks like to hold onto faith in the midst of unbearable loss. Cameron serves as the director of youth ministries at Cathedral Church of the Advent in Birmingham, Alabama, where he has ministered for 14 years. He is also the founding chairman of Rooted Ministry, an organization that promotes Gospel-centered student ministry, and the author of Therefore I Have Hope: 12 Truths That Comfort, Sustain, and Redeem in Tragedy, which won World Magazine's 2018 Book of the Year for Accessible Theology.

A Parent's Worst Nightmare and a Surprising Response

On November 10, 2013, Cameron sat with his three-year-old son, Cam, building Legos. During that ordinary afternoon, young Cam began asking a flood of questions about Jesus, heaven, Adam and Eve, and the cross. He asked if they could pray for help finding a lost Lego piece, and when it turned up, he said, "Thank you, Jesus." He then asked if they could go see Jesus and whether he would meet Adam and Eve in heaven. The conversation culminated with Cam declaring, "Jesus died on the cross. Jesus died for my sins." Cameron and his wife Lauren slowly realized they were witnessing their child profess trust in Jesus. It was the last meaningful conversation Cameron ever had with his son. The next morning, his wife called to tell him Cam had been found dead in his bed.

For years before this moment, Cameron had carried a quiet fear. He had lived a comfortable life where trust in God came easily, and he worried that if something truly devastating happened, he would lose his faith and become a fraud to the students he pastored. He had specifically imagined the death of his son as the thing that could break him. But when the phone call came, his first words surprised even himself: "Jesus rose from the dead. That means that God's good and this doesn't change that fact." In the weeks that followed, Cameron kept repeating a refrain: "I have no idea how a person could survive something like this if they didn't believe in the sovereignty of God, or God's daily grace, or that God is empathetic, or the hope of heaven." He sat down and wrote out those doctrines into what he called his "narrative of hope," a personal confession statement he read to himself most days during that first year to reorient himself toward the truths of Scripture that sustained his trust in the midst of unbearable grief.

Why Christianity Can Hold Suffering and Faith Together

The modern cultural vocabulary has no redemptive category for suffering. If the ultimate goal of life is sustained happiness, then suffering is always an interruption and can never be constructive. The Christian faith, by contrast, offers a narrative in which suffering can lead to hope, restoration, and deeper dependence on God. This is not a theoretical claim. People leave the faith over suffering constantly, and yet the very existence of the lament psalms in Scripture demonstrates that suffering and faith are not mutually exclusive. God's faithfulness and human agony do not cancel each other out.

One of the most compelling things about Scripture is its unflinching honesty about how dark life can be. The Bible does not pull punches. Try reading 1 and 2 Samuel to a child, or the book of Judges, and the sheer brutality of the text becomes immediately apparent. The biblical response to suffering is not to ignore it, sweep it under the rug, or paint it in rosy colors. The response is lament: confronting pain head-on and speaking honestly about it before God.

The Tension of Psalm 22: What We Feel and What We Know

Psalm 22 opens with David's raw cry, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" and then pivots just two verses later to, "Yet you are holy." This back-and-forth between despair and declaration runs throughout the entire psalm, so much so that some critical scholars have argued it must be two separate psalms stitched together by a later editor. But that tension is precisely the point. The Christian can sit in a place the world cannot: holding the reality of suffering and the goodness of God at the same time without one canceling the other.

Cameron describes this tension as a battle between emotions and the mind, between what you feel and what you know. When suffering hits, the default, more natural posture is to spiral: "Where is God? I deserve better. This is not right." The thing that catches you in that fall is the cross. You look and see a God who suffered with you, who suffered for you, who lost a child. And unlike Cameron's son, who went to heaven, God's Son bore the full weight of hell. This intellectual confidence in the goodness of God, grounded in Scripture rather than in emotional experience alone, is what keeps faith intact when feelings crumble. As Tim Keller argued in a sermon on this psalm, there is a critical difference between the perceived presence of God and the actual presence of God. The psalmist does not perceive God's presence, but he knows God is actually there.

Lament as a Gift, Not a Failure

One of the most striking features of Psalm 22 is its superscription: "To the choirmaster, according to The Doe of the Dawn." This was a melody. These words were not David's private, shameful journal entry. They were constructed under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and given to the congregation of Israel to sing. The lament psalm is a gift that dignifies suffering and gives words to pain that people may not be able to articulate on their own. It is also remarkable how few requests David actually makes. The first request does not come until verse 11, and it is only five words: "Be not far from me." Everything before that is simply processing grief before God. Suffering is meant to be brought into prolonged conversation with a heavenly Father who genuinely cares, not short-circuited with a quick "fix it" prayer. God is inviting honest, extended engagement. When someone is suffering, what they most want is for someone to hear them, and God offers exactly that.

There is a temptation in suffering either to turn away from God in bitterness or to fake it and pretend the pain is not real. Lament bridges those two extremes by bringing raw emotion to God with reverence. Feeling doubt, confusion, or anger in suffering is not spiritual failure. The Gospel tells us we are sinners, that we are inadequate, that we are so deeply flawed God had to die on a cross for us. It should not surprise us, then, that we cannot manufacture the right feelings or find all the answers on our own. The grace of God meets us precisely in that honest, desperate place. Denying the role of lament ultimately means denying the Gospel itself, which includes death before resurrection, a gap between Friday and Sunday that cannot be skipped.

Jesus on the Cross and the Psalm That Foretold It

Jesus quotes Psalm 22 while hanging on the cross, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46). Given how physically agonizing crucifixion was, every word required pressing down on the nail through his feet to lift his diaphragm enough to breathe and speak. For Jesus to say anything was remarkable. For him to invoke this specific psalm was revelatory. By quoting the first line, he was doing what any person steeped in Scripture would do when beginning a song: invoking the entire text. And woven throughout that psalm, written a thousand years before the crucifixion, are descriptions that match his experience with eerie precision. He is scorned and mocked (Psalm 22:6–8). Bystanders deride him, saying, "He trusts in God; let God deliver him" (Psalm 22:8). His hands and feet are pierced (Psalm 22:16). Soldiers cast lots for his clothing (Psalm 22:18). He is poured out like water, and his bones are out of joint (Psalm 22:14).

The theological weight of Jesus praying this psalm is immense. David, for all his suffering, was never truly abandoned by God. Jesus was. God the Father literally forsook his Son on the cross, bearing in himself the full weight of humanity's rebellion so that he would never have to forsake his people. Because Jesus was truly abandoned, those who trust in him can know with certainty that they never will be. When a follower of Jesus prays, "Be not far from me," in the depths of their own suffering, they can rest in the promise that God is actually present, because the cost of that presence was already paid at Calvary. Jesus' intercession did not begin only after his resurrection and ascension to the right hand of God. He was interceding for his people even as he hung on the cross, even as he suffered.

Lament as the Rhythm of Daily Dependence

The conversation closes with a reframing of what lament actually is. It is not merely a permission slip to bring grief to God, though it is that. It is a spiritually healthy posture of recognizing total dependence on God. In verses 19 through 21, David cries, "O Lord, do not be far off. O you my help, come quickly to my aid. Deliver my soul from the sword." This is not the cry of someone throwing a tantrum. It is the prayer of someone who knows his own inadequacy and knows that God is his only hope. That awareness, painful as it is, is one of the best spiritual places a person can be. It is the posture that receives grace.

This rhythm of dependence does not belong only to seasons of crisis. On an ordinary, comfortable, routine day, the same truth holds: apart from the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, we have nothing. Suffering strips the illusion of self-sufficiency and reveals what was always true. The lament psalms teach us to live in that truth daily, whether we are walking through the darkest valley or eating breakfast before heading to work. In both moments, the prayer is the same: "Lord, I am nothing without your grace. Give me your Holy Spirit for this day."

Transcript

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