Commentary on Psalms 22

Psalms 22 is one of the most haunting and hope-filled chapters in the Psalter. It begins with a cry of dereliction — “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” — that Jesus would later utter from the cross. The psalm moves from raw lament to confident trust, from isolation to corporate worship, and from suffering to vindication. It is a royal psalm of David that anticipates the Messiah’s suffering and exaltation, showing how God hears the afflicted and turns their cries into songs of praise.

Historical context

This psalm is attributed to David, likely written during a period of intense personal distress — perhaps during Saul’s persecution or Absalom’s rebellion. The superscription, “To the choirmaster: according to The Doe of the Dawn,” suggests it was set to a familiar tune for liturgical use. The psalm’s language echoes the experience of the righteous sufferer in the ancient Near East, where enemies are often depicted as wild animals (bulls, lions, dogs). Theologically, it belongs to the category of individual lament, but its scope expands to include all Israel and ultimately the nations. The New Testament writers saw in it a prophetic portrait of Christ’s crucifixion, quoting it directly in Matt 27:46 and Mark 15:34, and alluding to it in the accounts of the soldiers casting lots for his garments (v. 18) and his cry of thirst (v. 15).

Verse by verse

• 1:

  The psalm opens with a question that has echoed through centuries of suffering: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The Hebrew ‘azav (עָזַב) means to leave, abandon, or let go. David feels the absence of God in his distress, yet he still addresses God as “my God” — a cry of faith, not unbelief. Jesus quoted this verse from the cross (Matt 27:46), identifying fully with the suffering of his people and taking on the full weight of divine abandonment on our behalf.

• 3:

  In the midst of his anguish, David anchors himself in God’s character: “Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.” The Hebrew qadosh (קָדוֹשׁ) points to God’s otherness and purity. Even when God seems distant, he remains holy and worthy of praise. This verse is a pivot — from complaint to confession, from feeling abandoned to remembering who God is.

• 6:

  David describes himself as “a worm and not a man,” scorned by others. The Hebrew tola‘at (תּוֹלַעַת) suggests utter weakness and vulnerability. This is not self-pity but honest acknowledgment of his lowly state. The same language is used of the Suffering Servant in Isa 41:14 and 49:7, pointing forward to Christ, who was despised and rejected by men.

• 7:

  “All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads.” The mockery is visceral — physical gestures of contempt. This verse is directly applied to Jesus in Matt 27:39-44, where the passersby, chief priests, and scribes taunt him. The specificity of the mockery in the psalm underscores how precisely the New Testament writers saw Christ’s suffering foreshadowed.

• 8:

  The mockers say, “He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him.” The irony is thick: they use David’s faith as a weapon against him. In Matt 27:43, the chief priests echo this exact phrase: “He trusts in God; let God deliver him now.” The psalmist’s experience becomes the pattern for the Messiah’s — and for every believer who trusts God in the face of scorn.

• 14:

  “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint.” The imagery is of total physical collapse — strength drained, body dislocated. The Hebrew shapak (שָׁפַךְ) means to pour out, often used of sacrificial blood. This verse anticipates the physical trauma of crucifixion, where the victim’s body is stretched and joints pulled apart. It also echoes the language of the Suffering Servant in Isa 53:12, who “poured out his soul to death.”

• 16:

  “Dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet.” The Hebrew ka’ari (כָּאֲרִי) is debated — it could mean “like a lion” or, with a slight textual variation, “they have pierced.” The Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament) reads “they have pierced,” and the New Testament writers understood it as a direct prophecy of crucifixion (John 20:25). The “dogs” are a metaphor for vicious enemies, but the piercing language points unmistakably to the cross.

• 18:

  “They divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” This is one of the most precise prophecies in the psalm. John 19:23-24 records the Roman soldiers doing exactly this with Jesus’ seamless tunic. The detail is so specific that it cannot be dismissed as coincidence — it is a divine fingerprint on the text, showing that God was orchestrating redemption through the suffering of his Son.

• 22:

  The tone shifts dramatically: “I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.” The lament gives way to praise. The sufferer is not only delivered but becomes a witness. Hebrews 2:12 quotes this verse, applying it to Christ, who is not ashamed to call us brothers and leads us in worship. The cross is not the end — resurrection and exaltation follow.

• 27:

  “All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations shall worship before you.” The scope of the psalm expands from one sufferer to the whole world. The suffering of the righteous king brings about the salvation of the nations. This is the gospel in miniature: through the suffering of the Messiah, the nations are gathered into the worship of the true God.

• 31:

  The final verse declares, “They shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn, that he has done it.” The Hebrew ‘asah (עָשָׂה) is a perfect tense — “he has accomplished it.” This is the cry of the finished work. Jesus’ last words on the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30), echo this same triumphant note. The psalm ends not with suffering but with the certainty of God’s completed salvation.

Key themes

• Suffering and lament
• Divine abandonment and faith
• Messianic prophecy
• Vindication and praise
• Universal worship

Application

Psalms 22 gives us language for the darkest moments of life. When God feels distant, we can still cry out to him — not with polished prayers, but with raw honesty. The psalm does not explain suffering away; it walks through it. And it shows us that lament is not the opposite of faith; it is often the shape faith takes in a broken world. For the Christian, this psalm is also a window into the heart of Jesus. He knew what it meant to feel forsaken, so that we would never have to be. His suffering was not meaningless — it accomplished our redemption. When we face our own “why” moments, we can trust that the same God who raised Jesus from the dead will also vindicate us. And one day, our cries of lament will turn into songs of praise, joining the great congregation that spans every nation and generation.

Frequently asked questions