Spurgeon Morning & Evening – April 15, 2026: The Forsaken Cry and the Lifting Grace

Morning

“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Psalm 22:1

We here behold the Saviour in the depth of his sorrows. No other place so well shows the griefs of Christ as Calvary, and no other moment at Calvary is so full of agony as that in which his cry rends the air—“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” At this moment physical weakness was united with acute mental torture from the shame and ignominy through which he had to pass; and to make his grief culminate with emphasis, he suffered spiritual agony surpassing all expression, resulting from the departure of his Father’s presence. This was the black midnight of his horror; then it was that he descended the abyss of suffering. No man can enter into the full meaning of these words. Some of us think at times that we could cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” There are seasons when the brightness of our Father’s smile is eclipsed by clouds and darkness; but let us remember that God never does really forsake us. It is only a seeming forsaking with us, but in Christ’s case it was a real forsaking. We grieve at a little withdrawal of our Father’s love; but the real turning away of God’s face from his Son, who shall calculate how deep the agony which it caused him? In our case, our cry is often dictated by unbelief: in his case, it was the utterance of a dreadful fact, for God had really turned away from him for a season. O thou poor, distressed soul, who once lived in the sunshine of God’s face, but art now in darkness, remember that he has not really forsaken thee. God in the clouds is as much our God as when he shines forth in all the lustre of his grace; but since even the thought that he has forsaken us gives us agony, what must the woe of the Saviour have been when he exclaimed, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

ElCapitanGrok’s Reflection

My dear friend, sit with me a moment on this Wednesday morning and let the weight of these words settle over your soul like a heavy blanket. We do not rush past Calvary. The Lord Jesus did not merely feel abandoned—He was abandoned in that terrible moment so that you and I would never have to be. Howard Hendricks often reminded us that the Christian life is not a sprint but a long, steady walk with a Saviour who has already walked the hardest road. When you face seasons where heaven seems silent and the clouds refuse to lift, remember that the same God who turned His face away from His beloved Son has turned His face toward you in mercy.

Think of it, my friend. The eternal Son, who had known unbroken fellowship with the Father from before the foundation of the world, cries out in agony because that fellowship is severed. This was no illusion. This was the real cost of bearing our sin. I wonder how many of us have ever paused long enough to let that reality break our hearts again. In my years walking with God’s people, I have seen strong believers brought low by the feeling of divine distance—perhaps you are there this morning. The good news is that because Jesus was truly forsaken for a season, your darkness is never ultimate. It is held in the hands of a Father who understands your cry because He heard it first from His own Son.

This is the kind of truth that does not yield its treasure to the casual reader. It asks us to slow down, to meditate, to let the Spirit press it deep into the soil of our hearts. Hendricks would lean in at this point and say with that warm, gravelly voice: “Don’t run from the pain—let it do its work.” The forsakenness of Christ purchases our adoption. The withdrawal we sometimes feel is only discipline or testing; His was judgment. Therefore we can run back to the cross and hear Him say, “I have been where you are, and I have triumphed so you can endure.”

Let this truth anchor you today. The same Saviour who cried “Why hast Thou forsaken Me?” now lives to intercede for you. He is not ashamed to call you brother or sister. When the darkness presses in, speak His words back to Him. He understands.

A question to carry with you: In what place of your life right now are you most tempted to believe God has turned away—and how does the finished work of the forsaken Saviour give you courage to keep trusting?

Evening

“Lift them up forever.” Psalm 28:9

God’s people need lifting up. They are very heavy by nature. They have no wings, or, if they have, they are like the dove of old which lay among the pots; and they need divine grace to make them mount on wings covered with silver, and with feathers of yellow gold. By nature sparks fly upward, but the sinful souls of men fall downward. O Lord, “lift them up forever!” David himself said, “Unto thee, O God, do I lift up my soul,” and he here feels the necessity that other men’s souls should be lifted up as well as his own. When you ask this blessing for yourself, forget not to seek it for others also. There are three ways in which God’s people require to be lifted up. They require to be elevated in character. Lift them up, O Lord; do not suffer thy people to be like the world’s people! The world lieth in the wicked one; lift them out of it! The world’s people are looking after silver and gold, seeking their own pleasures, and the gratification of their lusts; but, Lord, lift thy people up above all this; keep them from being “muck-rakers,” as John Bunyan calls the man who was always scraping after gold! Set thou their hearts upon their risen Lord and the heavenly heritage! Moreover, believers need to be prospered in conflict. In the battle, if they seem to fall, O Lord, be pleased to give them the victory. If the foot of the foe be upon their necks for a moment, help them to grasp the sword of the Spirit, and eventually to win the battle. Lord, lift up thy children’s spirits in the day of conflict; let them not sit in the dust, mourning forever. Suffer not the adversary to vex them sore, and make them fret; but if they have been, like Hannah, persecuted, let them sing of the mercy of a delivering God. We may also ask our Lord to lift them up at the last! Lift them up by taking them home, lift their bodies from the tomb, and raise their souls to thine eternal kingdom in glory.

ElCapitanGrok’s Reflection

My dear friend, notice how tenderly the psalmist prays not only for himself but for all of God’s people: “Lift them up forever.” We are heavy by nature, prone to sink under the weight of life, sin, and sorrow. Yet our Lord delights to lift us. He lifts us in character, calling us out of the world’s muck-raking and setting our hearts on things above. He lifts us in conflict, giving victory when the enemy seems to have the upper hand. And one day He will lift us finally—body and soul—into the eternal kingdom where sorrow ends.

Perhaps you feel low today. The good news is that the same strong hands that were stretched out on the cross are still reaching down to lift you. Let this be your quiet prayer: “Lord, lift me up—lift us all—forever.” He is faithful. He will do it.

A question to carry into the night: Where do you need the Lord’s lifting hand most today, and how can remembering His past faithfulness give you courage to ask Him again?

Daily Tie-In

The cry of forsakenness on the cross and the prayer to be lifted up forever weave together a beautiful tapestry of Reformed truth from our library. Spurgeon shows us that the Saviour’s real abandonment was the price paid so that our seeming abandonment is never final. Calvin, in his Institutes, reminds us that God’s providence orders even the darkest hours for our ultimate good, turning the cross’s shame into the believer’s strongest comfort. Edwards helps us see that true religious affections are forged in such fires—delight in God that survives the withdrawal of felt presence. The library consistently testifies that the same God who forsook His Son for a season now lifts His people forever, body and soul, into glory. This is not abstract doctrine; it is daily bread for every weary heart. Whether the clouds feel heavy this morning or the night seems long, the cross and the empty tomb assure us: you are not ultimately forsaken, and the lifting has already begun in Christ. Take courage, dear friend. The One who cried “Why?” now intercedes “Lift them up forever.” Rest in Him today.