I see a man upon a cross, my stomach churns in agony. Who is this man? What did he do? Why would God allow him to endure this pain?
I ask among the crowd, I see hate in their faces. Why do these people hate this man so much? They yell insults and spit upon his face. What he did must be awful, he must be a horrible man.
I see a crown of thorns upon his head, I see a sign nailed to the cross. “King of the Jews.” I become desperate, my questions turn to pleas.
I see a man upon a cross, he cries out in agony, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (Which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)
He had been beaten beyond recognition, nails pierced his hands and feet, he hung fighting for his last torturing breath, and yet all his pain was in the separation. Why?! Why would his God forsake him? What reason could he have? When at his hour of suffering, why would his God leave him?
And then I knew the answer. ME! My God! Why would you forsake him? FOR ME! Why would you let him bear this cross? FOR ME! Why would you let this perfect man live the most painful life ever endured? FOR ME! Why would you leave him when you have been with him for all of eternity past? FOR ME!
Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? FOR ME!