Psalms 69:20

Reproach hath broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none.

My broken-hearted Lord

Did it ever occur to you that there is a vivid contrast between Jesus in His death and that of the noble army of martyrs who died for Him? Jesus shrank from death, was perturbed, agitated and dismayed, as the martyrs were not. Their fortitude was such that they extorted from the lips of dark pagans the exclamation, “See how these Christians die.” And their bodily agonies were quite as excruciating as were those of our Lord. Rome sharpened all her devices for cruelty in the tortures she inflicted on the Christian confessors. Now, wherefore this difference between the attitude of Jesus and the martyrs, He so distressed, they so dauntless? Compare Paul’s exultant word when in near prospect of the bloody axe which was soon to smite his life down to the ground, “I am ready, henceforth there is laid up for me a crown”; compare that with the agonized cry of Jesus in Gethsemane, “Oh, My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me.” The grass was bedewed with His tears; and flecked with His bloody sweat. The history of man had not witnessed such a dismay. But all this shows that there was some deep mental struggle, some mysterious foreboding, unusual with suffering man. Evidently His sufferings held their seat in, the mysterious pavilion of His nature. His death was to be the equivalent for the sins of guilty millions, so that the real tragedy of Calvary was impervious to human scrutiny, and was chiefly enacted in the internal agitations of the incarnated God. Hence this startling passage, “Reproach hath broken my heart.” It opens a field of wonders in explanation of the physical cause of our Redeemer’s death. He died on the cross but not by the cross. He died of a broken heart. In proof see--

I. Our Lord’s own testimony respecting His death. He said that it was purely voluntary. How could that have been if He had died as the result of His crucifixion?

II. There was not time for death by crucifixion. No vital organ of the body was touched by the tortures of the cross. Hence death came with terrible slowness. But our Lord suffered on the cross for fewer hours than others have for days.

III. The soldier’s spear proves that Jesus did not die the ordinary death of the crucified. The highest medical authorities tell us that no other mode of death but rupture of the heart can account for the separation into its primitive parts of the blood which flowed from our Lord’s pierced side, while that blood yet continues in the body. Nor could He have died from mental fainting and exhaustion. Our Lord was, evidently, physically strong, and He was in perfect health.

IV. What was it broke His heart? The text says it was “reproach.” No praise is more poignant than that of reproach. To a mind such as that of Jesus it becomes the sorrow of sorrows. But when God inflicts it, in vindication of justice and law, as He did upon Jesus, then what sorrow could be like that? Hence the bitter cry, “My God, My God,” etc. Oh, how should we hate the sin which thus broke the heart of our Lord. (Thomas Armitage, D. D.)

Self-reproach

1. If we are not on our guard, seasons of leisure may easily degenerate into seasons of unwholesome brooding and unprofitable unhappiness. The wakeful hours of the night are specially liable to this peril; the soul then almost involuntarily becomes the prey of introspection and self-scorn. Every foolish thing that we ever did, every foolish word that we ever spoke, comes to light again to mock and threaten us. It is all deeply distressing. It is the hour and the power of darkness; the sins and follies of years flash upon us in a judgment night.

2. Much may be done to check the morbid element of our reflective and introspective hours. It is a wise thing to keep the soul interested in large thoughts and causes, to preserve a general intellectual and spiritual sanity by entering heartily into the facts and interests of practical life. But when these dark moods threaten to prevail, is not the grand specific a profound faith in the reality of the Divine grace and forgiveness? “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” Surely the doleful hours of self-reproach are signs of our defective trust in the Divine promise and faithfulness! If our sins are cast into the depths of the sea, to be remembered against us no more for ever, why are we dredging in the depths, bringing up mire, and dirt, and obscure, slimy things far better left in the land of darkness and forgetfulness? (W. L. Watkinson.)