Psalm 21 ended with a king crowned in answered prayer. Psalm 22 begins with a king uncrowned—stripped down to the raw question: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (New International Version). Scripture is not embarrassed by that sentence. It places it on the lips of David, and then—astonishingly—on the lips of Jesus.
Here is the first deep shock: when Jesus quotes the opening line (see Gospel of Mark 15:34), He is not merely reporting pain; He is praying a psalm. In Jewish practice, the first line can stand for the whole song. Jesus draws the entire Psalm into the moment—lament, memory, mockery, rescue, and worldwide praise—like a banner over the cross.
“I am a worm and not a man” (verse 6). The Hebrew word is tola‘at, not the common earthworm but the crimson worm used for dye. In the ancient world, this insect’s crushed body produced a deep red stain—used in fabrics, including those associated with worship. David’s image is not only “I am nothing,” but “I am treated as the stuff of sacrifice.” Suffering becomes liturgy. The psalm whispers what Isaiah later shouts: the Servant is wounded for us (see Isaiah 53:5).
The “bulls of Bashan” (verse 12) aren’t cartoon villains. Bashan was fertile land east of the Sea of Galilee, famous for strong cattle—an ancient symbol of well-fed power. David is surrounded by elites with resources, reputations, and leverage. Western readers often miss that the enemies here are not only violent; they are socially weighty. This is oppression with good branding.
The psalm describes public shaming: lots cast for clothing (verse 18; see Gospel of John 19:23–24). Roman crucifixion aimed not merely to kill but to erase dignity. Archaeology confirms the cruelty is not metaphorical (compare the remains of the crucified man Jehohanan, first-century Jerusalem). God meets us not at the edge of pain, but in its center.
The pivot is easy to miss: after “save me” comes the sudden declaration, “You have answered me” (verse 21). The psalm turns mid-breath. Not because circumstances instantly change, but because prayer has reached the God who hears. From that hinge flows a promise: praise will spill into the nations, the poor will eat, generations unborn will be told (verses 26–31). The final line—“he has done it”—sounds like the seed of Jesus’ “It is finished” (see Gospel of John 19:30). The cross is not defeat explained; it is victory unveiled.
Song for prayer: “Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted” (especially the verse, “Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning…”)
Lord Jesus, You entered the forsakenness we fear most and turned it into worship. Teach me to pray truthfully—without performance, without despair. When my soul feels like a worm beneath the weight of shame, let Your finished work speak louder than my accusations. Make my suffering a doorway into praise, and my praise a witness to the nations. Amen.