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Why have You forsaken Me? (Mark 15:33-41)

Mark BarnesMark Barnes, November 8, 2015
Part of the The Sayings of Christ on the Cross series, preached at a Sunday Morning service

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https://www.bethel-clydach.co.uk/sermons/?show&file_name=2015-11-08-am.mp3 Download
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Mark 15:33–41 (Listen)

33 And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. 34 And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 35 And some of the bystanders hearing it said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.” 36 And someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” 37 And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. 38 And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. 39 And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”

40 There were also women looking on from a distance, among whom were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. 41 When he was in Galilee, they followed him and ministered to him, and there were also many other women who came up with him to Jerusalem.

(ESV)

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Time2Talk
Time2Talk is a monthly meeting for ladies from all walks of life – young mums, single ladies, married women, employed, retired – and all are welcome. We usually meet at 7:30pm on the third Monday of the month to study the Bible, pray together, and discuss issues which are relevant to women, all from a biblical perspective. We have studied…
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Tamar Pollard’s story

“Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood.”

Thirteen years ago the question of forgiveness became a very real one for me. Every summer my whole family (me, Mum, Dad and younger brother and sister), packed into a caravanette full of aid: food, clothes, medicine and Bibles and journeyed off to Eastern Europe, for six weeks. This particular year, when Mum and Dad approached the Romanian border, the lights failed on the vehicle. They stopped in a lay-by to wait for daylight, but were soon disturbed by a loud bangs. Dad clambered into the cab and put the key into the ignition. Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood. Questions began to flood my mind. Questions like: “Do I really believe God exists and is in control?”, “Do I really believe God is good and his plans are perfect?”, “Do I really believe God sent his son, Jesus into the world?”, “Do I believe Jesus died in my place, to take the punishment I deserve?”. And as I answered yes to each and every one of them, I was then left with the question, “Well, how am I going to respond?”
Read more of Tamar Pollard’s story

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