I used to play a game of trust with my kids — when they were smaller. They would stand on a couch, facing inwards; their arms crossed like they were inverted bats. I would have them close their eyes and then I would stand behind them. I would say, “Trust me… and fall back.” It took some time for each child to obey. Even after witnessing their sibling safely fall into my arms, they would hesitate. We would talk back and forth while I waited for them to fall. It was as if their minds comprehended the game, but their bodies were unwilling. Finally each of them would fall. After a time, I would stand farther away and throw my voice so they would think I was far. At the last minute, as they were falling, I would run up and catch them. It is a simple game — but one that shows trust.

We are often commanded in church to trust in Jesus. Salvation itself has as one of its many euphemisms: trusting in Jesus. Needless to say we spend much time thinking about how to go about doing just that and yet we probably have missed the greatest example of trust ever. It is not of someone who trusted in Jesus. It is of Jesus Himself trusting in God.

Matthew 27:46 — And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This saying of Jesus while hanging on the cross is a direct quote of Psalm 22:1. When David wrote that Psalm, he was crying out to God: feeling a sense of abandonment. We know, though, that it would have only been a partial abandonment or only a perceived abandonment. Jesus, however, felt complete abandonment on the cross. It was at this moment that the sins of the world — past, present, and future — were absorbed by Jesus entirely. God, having a fundamental, or even an ontological, issue with sin, turned away.

2 Corinthians 5:21 — For our sake [God] made [Jesus] to be sin who knew no sin, so that in [Jesus] we might become the righteousness of God.

Paul understood this moment on the cross as when Jesus became sin. Jesus, in His perfect, unblemished, cleanliness became all that is, or ever has been, or ever will be evil. This divine abandonment is incomprehensible to us. Jesus had a relationship with God that we cannot fathom. It was close; it had for eternity been unbroken; it was absolute communion. And suddenly it was severed. Even though Jesus knew what was to happen, even though this was expected, it was the most painful thing ever. The physical pain He endured moments before when He was nailed to the cross paled in comparison. His flogging hours earlier was a distant memory compared to the absolute hurt of abandonment.

But notice what happens next:

Matthew 27:50 — And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up His spirit.

Luke’s Gospel tells us what Jesus said with that loud voice:

Luke 23:46 — Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this He breathed His last.

Jesus, in utter pain and ultimate abandonment, displays something amazing. He, for the first time ever, does not feel the presence of His Father. Yet it is this same Father in whom He trusts. He falls backward off the couch, confident in His Father. Jesus is quoting another Davidic Psalm — Psalm 31:5 — except He adds the word, “Father.”

This is simply beautiful. To see the Son trusting so completely in His Father; to see the Son know that His Father will keep His promise. This is the same God that we serve!

Of interesting note is the development of this phrase, “into your hands I commit my spirit,” into a bedtime prayer for Jewish children. The last thing the child says before bed is, “into your hands I commit my spirit.” It would do us good to end each day with that affirmation of trust. It would do us good to start each day with that attitude, as well. May we be honest when we tell our God, “into your hands I commit my spirit.”

בְּיָדְךָ, אַפְקִיד רוּחִי

Tags:

This entry was posted by zac on Thursday, November 1st, 2007 at 5:28 am and is filed under Weekly Jib Jab. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.