Psalm 22 Chapter Study

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” opens Psalm 22 with a cry so searing that it echoes across covenants and ages (Psalm 22:1). David names the absence he feels—no answer by day, no rest by night—yet keeps praying to the God he calls “my God,” refusing to let silence sever the bond (Psalm 22:1–2). The lament then alternates between remembered truth and present pain. He recalls the Lord enthroned as the Holy One and trusted by the fathers; he describes mockery that twists trust into a taunt; he pleads for nearness because trouble is near and no human help remains (Psalm 22:3–11). By the midpoint the imagery turns bodily and brutal—bones out of joint, dust of death, hands and feet pierced, garments divided—and the prayer strains toward rescue (Psalm 22:14–18; John 19:24).

The second half explodes into praise. A vow to declare God’s name in the assembly becomes an invitation for Israel to honor the Lord who did not despise the afflicted but listened to his cry (Psalm 22:22–24; Hebrews 2:12). The circle widens from the poor of the congregation to the ends of the earth until families of the nations bow and generations yet unborn hear that “He has done it” (Psalm 22:26–31). The psalm thus maps a path from dereliction to doxology, from the dust of death to a table where the poor eat and are satisfied, and from Israel’s assembly to worldwide worship under the Lord’s dominion (Psalm 22:15; Psalm 22:26–28).

Words :2725 / Time to read: 14 minutes

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Historical and Cultural Background

Psalm 22 bears the heading “For the director of music. To the tune of ‘The Doe of the Morning.’ A psalm of David,” signaling public worship under a known melody and the testimony of a king whose private agony became the congregation’s prayer (Psalm 22 title). Israel’s worship life gave voice to grief and faith together, so laments like this trained the people to bring unanswered questions into the sanctuary without surrendering trust (Psalm 13:1–2; Psalm 42:9–11). The oscillation between “Yet you…” and “But I…” is not indecision; it is the rhythm of a heart taking hold of God’s character while suffering remains (Psalm 22:3–8; Psalm 22:9–11). In a world where honor and shame carried social weight, the public mockery—“He trusts in the Lord… let the Lord deliver him”—cut deeply because it framed faith as foolishness (Psalm 22:7–8; Psalm 31:11–13).

The imagery gathers animals known for strength and predation to depict human enemies. “Bulls of Bashan,” “roaring lions,” and “dogs” sketch a circle that tightens until the sufferer is isolated and exposed (Psalm 22:12–16). “Dust of death” draws on the mortal end of humanity’s path, while “my bones are out of joint” and “my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth” turn physical collapse into prayer (Psalm 22:15–17). Ancient hearers would have recognized both metaphor and reality. Whether the crisis was judicial, military, or personal, the language matches a setting where powerful opponents move as a pack and the afflicted one has no ally but God (Psalm 31:20; Psalm 35:15–17).

Two lines gave the congregation a vocabulary for public shame. “They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment” names the stripping of dignity that often accompanied an execution or a defeat; “all who see me mock me” shows taunt as a weapon aimed at faith itself (Psalm 22:7; Psalm 22:18). The Hebrew text behind “they pierce my hands and my feet” is noted and debated in scholarship; the psalm’s bodily focus, however rendered, makes clear that the afflicted one suffers in the flesh and not in metaphor only (Psalm 22:16; Psalm 38:3–8). Israel’s worshipers learned to sing with David that the Lord who knit them together from the womb is the only one strong enough to answer when strength melts and bones show through skin (Psalm 22:9–10; Psalm 139:13).

The vow and the widening horizon fit Israel’s covenant story. Praise begins in the assembly—“I will declare your name to my people”—and flows outward until “all the ends of the earth” remember and turn to the Lord because “dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations” (Psalm 22:22; Psalm 22:27–28). That sequence harmonizes with promises to Abraham that all families would be blessed through his seed and with the Lord’s choice of Zion as the place from which instruction and praise would spread (Genesis 12:3; Isaiah 2:2–3). By binding the king’s rescue to global worship, the psalm taught Israel to expect that what God does for His anointed will finally bless the nations (Psalm 18:49; Psalm 72:17).

Biblical Narrative

The first movement is raw prayer. David cries out by day and by night, stacking “why” upon “why,” and then anchors the lament in God’s throne and in the track record of the fathers who trusted and were not put to shame (Psalm 22:1–5). Pain returns as the speaker is reduced in public estimation—“a worm and not a man”—and mocked for his faith, yet even here the memory of God’s midwife care from birth steadies the plea: “From my mother’s womb you have been my God” (Psalm 22:6–11). The two refrains—“you are enthroned” and “you brought me out”—pull the heart toward the Lord while enemies circle and help evaporates (Psalm 22:3; Psalm 22:9).

A second wave of imagery lands with force. Bulls surround, lions roar, dogs encircle, the body unravels, thirst scorches, and the sufferer is laid in the dust of death (Psalm 22:12–15). The exposure is complete: bones are visible, onlookers gloat, garments are divided and lots are cast (Psalm 22:17–18). The prayer does not prettify the scene. It names terror as terror while refusing to let fear have the last word. “But you, Lord, do not be far… You are my strength; come quickly to help me” gathers the metaphors into one plea for rescue by the Lord’s hand (Psalm 22:19–21).

The turning point comes as petition becomes vow. “I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you” moves from “save me” to “I will praise you,” and then summons Israel to join: “You who fear the Lord, praise him!” (Psalm 22:22–23). The reason is as tender as it is strong: “He has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one… he has listened to his cry for help” (Psalm 22:24). Poverty and hunger are not forgotten in the thanksgiving; “the poor will eat and be satisfied,” and vows are fulfilled before those who fear the Lord, because rescue spills into communal provision and worship (Psalm 22:25–26; Psalm 40:9–10).

The final movement lifts the horizon until it touches the edges of the earth and the edges of time. “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord,” “all the families of the nations will bow down,” “all who go down to the dust will kneel,” and “posterity will serve him” stack universals until the world is gathered (Psalm 22:27–31). The closing line, “He has done it,” sounds like a victory banner raised over generations, a declaration that God’s righteousness and saving action stand accomplished and will be told to a people yet unborn (Psalm 22:31; Psalm 98:1–3). The psalm that began with abandonment ends with assurance sung in many languages.

Theological Significance

Psalm 22 dignifies lament as an act of faith. To say “why” to God is not unbelief; it is covenant boldness that insists on speaking to the One who seems silent precisely because He is “my God” (Psalm 22:1–2; Psalm 62:8). The alternating pattern—remembering God’s throne and past deliverances, then naming present scorn—models prayer that refuses denial and refuses despair (Psalm 22:3–11; Psalm 77:7–12). Scripture grants such speech to the afflicted so their pain does not harden into cynicism or collapse into isolation (Psalm 34:17–18; 1 Peter 5:7).

The psalm also presents a righteous sufferer whose experience becomes representative. David’s fidelity is mocked, his body is broken, and his garments are divided, yet God hears and vindicates him in a way that reaches the assembly and the nations (Psalm 22:7–8; Psalm 22:18; Psalm 22:22; Psalm 22:27–28). Progressive revelation draws this line forward. The Gospel writers portray Jesus’ crucifixion with Psalm 22 in view: bystanders hurl the very taunt of verse 8, soldiers cast lots for His garment, and He cries the opening line from the cross (Matthew 27:35–46; John 19:24). Hebrews puts verse 22 on the Messiah’s lips as He leads the congregation in praise after suffering, identifying Jesus as the afflicted one whom God did not finally abandon (Hebrews 2:10–12; Psalm 22:22–24). The psalm’s arc illuminates the cross and resurrection: dereliction cried, shame endured, prayer answered, praise proclaimed.

God’s character shines in how He relates to the afflicted. “He has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one… he has listened” corrects every lie that pain implies divine disdain (Psalm 22:24; Psalm 34:6). In the cross of Christ this becomes emphatic. The Father did not scorn the Son’s suffering; He vindicated Him, raising Him from death and installing Him as Lord (Acts 2:23–24; Romans 1:4). The cry of abandonment was real in the darkness of judgment, yet the second half of the psalm assures us that the end of the story is heard prayer and public praise (Psalm 22:22–26; Luke 24:46–47). Those who belong to the Messiah share that path: sorrow named, help sought, joy declared (2 Corinthians 4:8–14).

Kingship and mission are intertwined in the psalm’s finale. “Dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations” is royal language tied to promises for David’s line and to the hope that all families will bless the Lord (Psalm 22:28; 2 Samuel 7:12–16; Genesis 12:3). The church from the nations bows gladly, yet God’s particular promises to Israel remain secured by His faithfulness, and Scripture looks ahead to a future when Jacob rejoices and worldwide worship is public and complete (Psalm 22:23; Romans 11:28–29; Isaiah 2:2–4). Distinct roles sit within one purpose as God unites all things under His Anointed (Ephesians 1:10; Psalm 72:17–19).

The psalm’s liturgical center—vow, assembly, and provision for the poor—belongs to the administration given through Moses and also anticipates a wider table. The sufferer pledges praise in the congregation and fulfills vows before those who fear the Lord while the hungry are satisfied (Psalm 22:22; Psalm 22:25–26). In the new stage of God’s plan, praise breaks the bounds of one nation as the good news goes to the ends of the earth, and the Spirit forms a people who worship in truth and extend tangible mercy in the King’s name (John 4:23–24; Acts 1:8; James 2:15–17). The pattern holds: rescued people declare God’s name and share God’s bread.

The “He has done it” conclusion places a banner of completion over the whole psalm. In the Gospels, the crucified King cries, “It is finished,” and the echoes are hard to miss: a work accomplished that will be told to a people yet unborn (John 19:30; Psalm 22:31). Scripture invites this connection while guarding specificity: Psalm 22 is David’s song fulfilled in greater fullness in David’s Son, whose finished work grounds both the forgiveness that lifts shame and the mission that gathers nations (Luke 24:44–47; Isaiah 49:6). The banner over suffering saints is not “Do more” but “God has acted,” and therefore faith can sing.

The psalm also sketches a taste-now, fullness-later horizon. Today the afflicted pray and are heard; the church declares God’s name in assemblies across the world; the poor are fed at the Lord’s table; and peoples from many tongues bow in worship (Psalm 22:22–26; 1 Corinthians 10:16–17; Revelation 5:9–10). A day is coming when “all the ends of the earth” will remember and turn in a way that is visible and universal, when even those who sleep in the dust will kneel and joy will not be contested (Psalm 22:27–29; Revelation 7:9–12). Hope for that day strengthens endurance in this one (Romans 8:23–25; Psalm 27:13–14).

Spiritual Lessons and Application

Pray honest laments that lean into covenant hope. Psalm 22 gives words for days when God feels far: speak the “why,” recall God’s throne and past deliverances, and ask for nearness because trouble is near (Psalm 22:1–3; Psalm 22:11). This is not self-therapy; it is worship that brings pain into God’s presence until memory and petition become strength (Psalm 77:11–12; Psalm 62:8). In practice, write the “Yet you…” truths beside the “But I…” griefs and keep returning until faith steadies.

Join the afflicted and declare God’s name. The vow to praise in the assembly yields an invitation for Israel and, through Christ, a song for the church: “I will declare your name to my people” now stands on the lips of the risen King leading our worship (Psalm 22:22; Hebrews 2:12). Communities that gather the wounded, tell God’s deeds, and make room at the table for the poor embody the psalm’s middle lines where the hungry are satisfied and vows are fulfilled (Psalm 22:25–26; Luke 14:13–14). Mercy ministries, testimonies, and shared praise are not add-ons; they are how rescued people keep the vow.

Set missions on Psalm 22’s horizon. If all families will bow and posterity will serve the Lord, then the church’s work moves outward in confident patience, bearing witness to the King whose dominion already belongs to Him (Psalm 22:27–28; Matthew 28:18–20). Pray toward unreached peoples, support faithful workers, and speak locally about the God who listens to the afflicted and welcomes those who seek Him (Psalm 22:24; Acts 13:47). The end of the psalm—“He has done it!”—is the fuel of mission, because finished grace propels generous witness (Psalm 98:1–3; Romans 10:14–15).

Live between “why” and “He has done it” with hope. The psalm does not rush from verse 1 to verse 31; it travels through thirst, scorn, and dust before the table is set and the nations gather (Psalm 22:1; Psalm 22:15; Psalm 22:26–28). Endurance in that path means refusing shortcuts that numb pain and instead seeking the God who answers and satisfies (Psalm 27:13–14; Philippians 4:6–7). The King who cried the opening line now leads the closing praise, and His people learn to follow His cadence in sorrow and in song (Matthew 27:46; Hebrews 2:12).

Conclusion

Psalm 22 traces the long arc from abandonment to assurance and teaches believers how to travel it. It permits the “why,” anchors the heart in who God is, describes suffering without euphemism, and then breaks into vows that become assembly-wide praise (Psalm 22:1–2; Psalm 22:3–11; Psalm 22:22–26). It insists that God does not scorn the afflicted but listens and answers, and it lifts the horizon until the ends of the earth remember and bow because dominion belongs to the Lord (Psalm 22:24; Psalm 22:27–28). The psalm belongs to Israel’s worship; its fulfillment widens through David’s greater Son so that nations sing and generations yet unborn hear of righteousness accomplished (Psalm 22:31; Luke 24:46–47).

For the church, this song becomes a way of life. We bring anguish to the Lord who sometimes seems far and discover that He has acted; we declare His name together and feed the hungry; we speak of a King who suffered without rescue and then was vindicated with public joy; and we labor so that the ends of the earth will join the praise (Psalm 22:22–26; Acts 2:23–24). Between “My God, why?” and “He has done it,” faith walks with steady steps, helped by a Savior who has walked this path and now leads the assembly in praise that will outlast death (Hebrews 2:12; Revelation 7:9–10).

“All the ends of the earth
will remember and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations
will bow down before him,
for dominion belongs to the Lord
and he rules over the nations.” (Psalm 22:27–28)