✝️ Psalm 22: The Cry from the God-Forsaken Place
(retransmitted by Virgin Monk Boy after staring into the silence, refusing to call abandonment the final word)
Psalm 22 is the scream before the resurrection. It begins with the most honest prayer in scripture: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This is not tidy faith. This is the body panicking, the soul collapsing, the heart asking whether Love has left the building. But the psalm does not stay in despair. It moves through humiliation, exhaustion, memory, terror, and finally into praise. Not fake praise. Not praise that skips the wound. Praise that rises from the wound because something in us still knows the Holy is nearer than the silence suggests.
1
My God, my God
why does it feel like You left?
I cry out
and the sky gives me nothing
No answer
No comfort
No holy customer service representative
available at this time
2
I call by day
and still feel unheard
I call by night
and still cannot rest
3
And yet
somewhere deeper than panic
I remember
You are still Holy
even when my nervous system
cannot feel You
4
Our ancestors trusted You
They leaned into the dark
and were not swallowed
5
They cried
and something opened
They trusted
and were not ashamed
6
But I feel less than human
mocked by mouths
that have never had to survive me
7
They look at me and sneer
Let Love save him
if Love likes him so much
Bless their little theology of cruelty
8
They think suffering proves abandonment
as if pain is a receipt
for divine rejection
9
But You were there
before I had language
You held me
when I was only breath
and need
10
From the womb
I was thrown into Mystery
Before I knew Your name
I was already inside You
11
Do not be far from me now
Trouble is close
and my strength is not
12
The bulls surround me
all muscle
all threat
all appetite
13
They open their mouths
like lions
as if my fear
is their feast
14
I am poured out like water
My bones feel scattered
My heart melts
like wax in the heat
of too much
15
My mouth is dry
My tongue sticks
to the roof of my grief
I feel lowered
into dust
16
The pack circles
Hands and feet wounded
body exposed
dignity stripped
17
I can count my bones
and they stare
like suffering is a show
18
They divide what is left of me
They gamble over my coverings
as if humiliation
were just another game
19
But You
O Love
do not stay distant
Come close
Be my strength
before I forget
I have any
20
Deliver my life
from the blade
Save my only heart
from the teeth
of despair
21
Pull me from the lion’s mouth
from the horns of everything
that thinks fear gets the final word
22
Then I will speak Your name
among the broken
I will praise You
not above them
but beside them
23
You who ache
praise Love
You who tremble
honor the Presence
that trembles with you
24
For Love has not despised
the suffering one
Love did not turn away
from the afflicted
Love heard
even when the answer
took longer than the wound wanted
25
My praise rises
from the place
I thought would kill me
I will keep my vows
not because I am strong
but because I was carried
26
The poor shall eat
and be satisfied
The ones who seek Love
shall find their hearts
still beating
27
All the ends of the earth
will remember
Not convert
Not perform
Remember
28
For the kingdom belongs to Love
not empire
not ego
not the loudest men
with the biggest banners
29
The proud and the starving
the dust-bound and the powerful
all return
to the same Breath
30
A people yet unborn
will hear the story
They will be told
that Love was present
even there
31
They will come and say
to a generation not yet breathing
This was not the end
Love did not leave
And somehow
we lived
—Virgin Monk Boy
(who once thought forsakenness was proof God was gone
but now knows even the scream can become scripture)
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"My tongue sticks to the roof of my grief." That's a line you can hang robes on.