Shadows of the Cross, Part 4: The Scarlet Worm (Psalm 22)

Some of us have had the occasion of ministering to friends and relatives when they took their last breath. We stand by their beds as death approaches, and we usher them into eternity. But how do we do that? If the person is a Christ follower, we often quote the Scriptures to them and sing their favorite hymns. When my father-in-law died, the whole family was gathered around his bed, and we were singing “Victory in Jesus” when he passed away. In fact, he died right at the moment we sang, “I heard about a mansion he has built for me in glory. And I heard about the streets of gold beyond the crystal sea.” 
 
When my mother lay dying, we were singing “O Holy Night” when she passed away. In fact, she died right as we sang, “For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees; O, hear the angel voices.” It’s a sacred and somber moment to be present when a person is reclaimed by the God who gave him. How do you want to be ushered into eternity? Loved ones can sing for me Isaac Watts’ “It Is Well with My Soul,” or Michael Card’s “Emmanuel,” or Fernando Ortega’s “Give Me Jesus.” That one ends with a simple profundity: “And when I come to die, give me Jesus.” Who could ask for anything more?
 
When Jesus is dying on the cross, he ushers himself into eternity with the soundtrack of Psalm 22. The Psalter was Israel’s hymn book, and Jesus quotes the first line of Psalm 22 on Calvary. He may have even said or sung the entire composition from his cross after shouting the opening line. If not, he was certainly summoning the whole song to our thinking, not just its opening words. If I started singing, “My hope is built on nothing less,” many believers’ minds will keep going and supply the rest: “Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness….” If I started singing, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,” many believers’ minds will keep going and supply the rest: “O what a foretaste of glory divine….” Likewise, Jesus gets us started by quoting Psalm 22:1, and the minds of those at the foot of the cross supply the rest. Amazingly, Jesus is still teaching us from the cross.
 
Consequently, it’s important to remember that Psalm 22 is a song of victory in the end. It begins in lament, but it ends in triumph. Moreover, David wrote it, but it’s application far exceeds what he was going through when he composed the lyrics. David was never publicly executed; he died at home, surrounded by his family. Nor did his death result in a mass conversion of peoples around the world as the lyrics go on to say. So, on the face of it, there’s a mystery to Psalm 22 when seen only through the lens of David’s historical situation. How do we solve the mystery? Peter does it for us in Acts 2:30: “[David] was a prophet and…seeing what was ahead, he spoke of…the Christ.” Psalm 22, then, is a shadow of the cross. 
 
Now, David was truly suffering when he wrote Psalm 22. In history he was surrounded by his enemies, and he was reflecting on his pain and anguish, pouring his heart out to God in poetry. As he did so, he was moved by the Holy Spirit to write a song filled with typical Davidic exaggeration (e.g., “My tears have been my food!”). In fact, David’s hyperbole turned out to be Messiah’s reality. One line in the song says, “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people” (Ps 22:6). The word “worm” there refers to a creature from which scarlet dye was made. Prophetically, it’s one of the “I AM” statements of Jesus. The Son of Man felt less than a man when tortured by the men he had created. 
 
Despite his ordeal, the suffer says to God, “YOU lay me in the dust of death” (Ps 22:15). It may look like the king’s enemies are killing him, but this king has another perspective: “It is GOD who is sovereign over my dying trial, not my enemies.” Indeed, Jesus overcame the deepest possible trouble with the deepest possible trust. In doing so, he demonstrated that feelings of abandonment by God are not actual abandonments by God. The cross and the empty tomb prove it. As such, the Scarlet Worm shows us how to trust God in our darkest moments. 

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Toothpaste and Torment

Bobby was six years old, and he had an inquiring mind. He had been learning how to measure things at school, and his teacher suggested the class go home that night and see what they could find there to measure. Bobby took the challenge to heart. When he got home, he measured his desk. He measured his toy box. He measured his bed. He measured everything within reach. 

Then, while enjoying a moment of inspiration in the second-floor bathroom, Bobby thought to himself, “I wonder how long the wiggly white worm is that lives inside the tube of toothpaste.” Soon, under the pressure of eager, juvenile fingers, the wiggly white worm oozed its path down the sink, across the bathroom floor, out into the hall, and down the stairs into the living room, where the economy size tube finally expired. 

Bobby was ecstatic. It was only a moment’s work to walk his ruler along the gleaming white trail and record the measurement. “Now,” he said to himself, “all I’ve got to do is put the toothpaste back into the tube before mommy finds out.” Sadly, Bobby’s progress in physics was not as advanced as his mathematics, or else he would have known that certain processes are irreversible. 

His mother’s voice sounded from the kitchen, “Bobby, what are you doing?” A deep intuition alerted him to the fact that she would not be pleased with the long white worm on the floor. Frantically, he tried to scoop up the evidence, but that only made the mess worse. 

“Bobby!” cried his mother at the sight of the strange new design on her favorite carpet. “What have you done?” 

And with no further ingenuity forthcoming, Bobby—in typical six-year-old fashion—burst into tears. He ran full tilt and buried his face in the apron of his startled but kindhearted mother. “I’m sorry, mommy. I’m really sorry!”

Has it ever occurred to you that life can be a bit like toothpaste? It, too, flows out in an irreversible stream, and sometimes we wish we could put it back. But that cannot be done, and we’re often left with a mess we cannot clean ourselves. 

“If life had a second edition,” wrote the poet John Clair, “I would correct the proofs.” King David might have agreed with that sentiment. After his famous sin with Bathsheba and his murderous ploy to cover it up, he realized he had made a terrible mess of his life and kingdom, and he had no ability to clean it up himself. Yet in the midst of his tormented soul, he somehow knew that God did. In Psalm 51:1-2, he asked the Lord:

Have mercy on me, O God, 
according to your unfailing love; 
according to your great compassion 
blot out my transgressions. 
Wash away all my iniquity 
and cleanse me from my sin.

With true remorse and raw repentance, David ran full tilt and buried his shame in the apron of God’s lovingkindness. He understood full well that to get clean with God, he had to come clean with God. And so, the disgraced king cried out to God in Psalm 51:7-10:

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; 
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. 
Let me hear joy and gladness; 
let the bones you have crushed rejoice. 
Hide your face from my sins 
and blot out all my iniquity.
Create in me a pure heart, O God, 
and renew a steadfast spirit within me. 

David discovered that the crushing weight of sin was no match for the mercy of God. In fact, he went on to celebrate in another psalm the forgiveness he received from the Lord: “Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered” (Ps 32:1). God had truly made him “whiter than snow.”

Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, received this instruction: “Call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matt 1:21). “Jesus” means salvation. Reflecting on what Christ accomplished in his death and resurrection to make sinful people righteous, the Apostle Paul wrote, “Where sin increased, grace increased all the more” (Rom 5:20).

Ultimately, David learned that while our lives may be irreversible, they are not irredeemable. That’s true of your life, too. 

Thank you, Lord, for your merciful heart. I confess that I’m not a person with a small debt. Sometimes I willingly choose my way above your way, preferring my own glory to yours. Sadly, I have done this, like David, even as a believer. Yet, your gracious heart remains. Thank you, God. I am grateful that my forgiveness is based on your character and not my own; that it’s based on your love for me, not my love for you. If that were the case, I’d be lost forever. But you are the God who still gives people new hearts. Do that for me, I pray, and help me to walk in your ways. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Image Credits: shutterstock.com; pexels.com.

ICL Old Testament Survey, Class Session 7

Class Resources:

Additional handouts on the Ketuvim are available on Canvas.

Class video available (for 30 days) upon request.