Commentary - Psalm 22:12-21

Bird's-eye view

This section of Psalm 22 is one of the most vivid and harrowing prophecies of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in the entire Old Testament. Written a thousand years before the event, it describes the physical, emotional, and spiritual agony of the Messiah with breathtaking precision. The psalmist, David, is speaking prophetically from the perspective of the Lord on the cross. The passage moves from the external threat of His enemies, described in brutal, bestial terms, to the internal reality of His physical collapse and suffering. The enemies are not merely human opponents; they are portrayed as a demonic menagerie, a veritable devil's zoo, surrounding the Lamb of God. This is not just a poetic description of suffering; it is a theological statement about the nature of the spiritual warfare being waged at Calvary. The psalm climaxes with a direct description of crucifixion and the gambling for His clothes, details so specific that they defy any explanation other than divine inspiration. Yet, even in this pit of dereliction, the psalm pivots on a cry of faith, a desperate plea to the Father for deliverance, setting the stage for the triumphant victory that will follow.

The central theme is the substitutionary suffering of the Messiah. He is encircled by evil, poured out like water, and brought to the dust of death. This is what our sin deserved. The bulls, lions, and dogs are instruments of a deeper malice, the ancient hatred of the serpent for the seed of the woman. In their taunts and their violence, we see the impotence of malice. They think they are winning, but in piercing His hands and feet, they are accomplishing the salvation of the world. This is the heart of the gospel: God uses the very worst that evil can do to achieve His greatest good. The passage is a stark reminder that the cross was not a sterile theological concept, but a bloody, brutal, and visceral event where the Son of God endured hell on our behalf.

Outline

Context In Psalms

Psalm 22 is the quintessential Messianic passion psalm. It begins with the famous cry of dereliction, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (v. 1), words Jesus would utter from the cross (Matt 27:46). The first half of the psalm (vv. 1-21) is a detailed lament, a cry from the depths of suffering. It stands in stark contrast to the preceding psalm, Psalm 21, which is a royal psalm of victory and triumph. The juxtaposition is intentional. The path to the crown of Psalm 21 goes directly through the cross of Psalm 22. Following this deep lament, the psalm makes a dramatic turn at verse 21b. The cry for help is answered, and the remainder of the psalm (vv. 22-31) is a soaring hymn of praise and a prophecy of the worldwide victory of the gospel. The salvation accomplished in the suffering of verses 1-21 results in the gathering of the great congregation, the conversion of the nations, and the declaration of God's righteousness to generations yet unborn. The entire psalm is a complete gospel narrative, from the cross to the crown to the conversion of the cosmos.

Key Issues

The Devil's Zoo

When the psalmist describes the enemies of the Messiah, he doesn't use political or military terms. He describes a zoo. We have strong bulls from Bashan, a roaring lion, a pack of dogs, and wild oxen. This is not simply poetic hyperbole. This is a theological description of the spiritual reality behind the events at Golgotha. Bashan, in the Old Testament, was known not only for its strong cattle but also as a place of demonic power, associated with Og, the giant king. The lion is a scriptural emblem of Satan, who prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour (1 Pet 5:8). Dogs, in biblical imagery, are unclean scavengers. What Christ faced on the cross was not just the malice of the Sanhedrin or the expediency of Pilate. He was facing the assembled powers of hell. The cross was the focal point of all cosmic history, where the seed of the woman would crush the serpent's head, and the serpent would strike his heel. This is the ultimate spiritual battle, and the enemies are portrayed in their true, beastly nature. They are mindless in their rage, driven by a satanic hatred for the Son of God. And yet, in all their roaring and encircling, they are nothing more than tools in the hand of a sovereign God, accomplishing the very redemption they are trying to prevent.

Verse by Verse Commentary

12 Many bulls have surrounded me; Strong bulls of Bashan have encircled me.

The scene is set. The solitary sufferer is surrounded. The enemies are not weak or few; they are "many." They are described as "bulls," creatures of immense power and brute force. More specifically, they are "strong bulls of Bashan." Bashan was a fertile plateau east of the Jordan, famous for its robust livestock. But as mentioned, it also carried connotations of dark, ancient evil. These are not just ordinary opponents; they represent the full, brute force of a fallen world, energized by demonic power, pressing in on Christ from all sides. They have Him "encircled," cutting off all escape. This is the mob at the foot of the cross, the religious leaders, the Roman soldiers, the powers of this age, all gathered to destroy the Lord of glory.

13 They open wide their mouth at me, As a lion that tears and roars.

The imagery shifts from the trampling power of bulls to the ravenous hunger of a predator. The mob is not silent; their mouths are open wide. This captures the verbal abuse, the mockery, the taunts, and the blasphemies hurled at Jesus on the cross. "He trusts in God; let God deliver him now" (Matt 27:43). This gaping mouth is like that of a "tearing and roaring lion." The lion tears its prey apart before devouring it. The words they spoke were intended to rip and tear at the soul of Christ in His moment of greatest agony. This is the voice of the accuser, the voice of Satan, roaring against the Son.

14 I am poured out like water, And all my bones are out of joint; My heart is like wax; It is melted within me.

The perspective now shifts from the external enemies to the internal, physical experience of the sufferer. "I am poured out like water." This speaks of a complete loss of strength, a total depletion of vital energy. He is utterly spent. "All my bones are out of joint." This is a precise description of what happens during crucifixion. The weight of the body hanging from the wrists would dislocate the shoulders and stretch the bones of the arms and rib cage out of their sockets. This is not poetry; it is physiology. "My heart is like wax; it is melted within me." This points to extreme emotional and spiritual anguish, a complete internal collapse. The courage and resolve are gone, melted away by the heat of God's wrath against sin. Medically, it could also point to the buildup of pericardial fluid around the heart due to extreme stress, a condition that could lead to cardiac rupture.

15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd, And my tongue cleaves to my jaws; And You lay me in the dust of death.

The sense of depletion continues. His strength, His vital moisture, is "dried up like a potsherd," a piece of broken pottery baked hard and brittle in the sun. This is a picture of extreme dehydration, one of the key tortures of crucifixion. This leads to the next clause: "my tongue cleaves to my jaws." This is the torment of thirst, which Jesus audibly expressed from the cross (John 19:28). The final clause is staggering: "And You lay me in the dust of death." He recognizes the ultimate hand in His suffering. It is not the bulls, the lion, or the dogs. It is "You," His own Father. The Father is the one who is laying Him in the dust of death. This is the doctrine of substitutionary atonement. The Father is laying on Him the iniquity of us all (Isa 53:6). This is the central transaction of the gospel.

16 For dogs have surrounded me; A band of evildoers has encompassed me; They pierced my hands and my feet.

The psalmist returns to the image of the surrounding enemies, now calling them "dogs." Dogs in the ancient world were not beloved pets; they were feral, unclean scavengers that ran in packs. This "band of evildoers" has encompassed Him. They are a pack of mongrels snapping at the heels of the dying Lamb. And then comes the prophetic bullseye: "They pierced my hands and my feet." A thousand years before Roman crucifixion was invented as a method of execution, the Spirit of Christ in David prophesied the precise manner of the Messiah's death. This cannot be explained away. It is a direct, unambiguous prediction of death by nails through the hands and feet. This verse alone should cause any honest skeptic to tremble.

17 I count all my bones. They look, they stare at me;

The first clause, "I count all my bones," speaks of extreme emaciation and the distended nature of a crucified body. His flesh is stretched so taut over his frame that every bone is visible. The second clause is chilling in its simplicity: "They look, they stare at me." This is the cold, cruel, voyeuristic gaze of the mob. Crucifixion was a public spectacle. They are not just glancing; they are staring, gloating over His agony. It is a dehumanizing gaze, stripping Him of all dignity, treating Him as an object of scornful entertainment. This is the shame of the cross that He endured for the joy that was set before Him (Heb 12:2).

18 They divide my garments among them, And for my clothing they cast lots.

Another stunningly precise prophecy. The victim of crucifixion was stripped naked, and the executioners had the right to claim his meager possessions, primarily his clothes. The Gospel of John records the literal fulfillment of this verse. The soldiers divided his outer garments into four parts, one for each of them. But His tunic, or undergarment, was seamless, woven in one piece. Rather than tear it, they decided to gamble for it. "So they said to one another, 'Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, to see whose it shall be'" (John 19:24). This was done, John says, "that the Scripture might be fulfilled." The Scripture was this very verse.

19 But You, O Yahweh, be not far off; O my Strength, hasten to my help.

Here is the pivot. After plumbing the absolute depths of suffering and dereliction, faith cries out. The psalm turns from describing the horror to petitioning the Lord. "But You..." This is the great conjunction of faith. Everything that has been described is true, but God is also true. He who felt utterly forsaken in verse 1 now cries out to Yahweh, the covenant God. He addresses God as "my Strength," even as His strength is failing. This is not a cry of despairing faith, but rather a cry of faithful despair. He is clinging to the character of God even when the experience of God's presence is gone. He pleads with God not to be "far off" and to "hasten" to help. The battle is not over.

20 Deliver my soul from the sword, My only life from the power of the dog.

He specifies his request. "Deliver my soul from the sword", from a violent death. "My only life from the power of the dog." The phrase "my only life" (or "my darling" in some translations) is a term of precious endearment for his own life or soul. He is asking God to rescue his precious life from the fangs of the unclean pack that surrounds him. It is a plea for vindication and resurrection.

21 Save me from the mouth of the lion; From the horns of the wild oxen You have answered me.

The plea continues, asking for rescue from the "lion's mouth," the devouring power of Satan and death. And then, in the middle of the verse, the great turn. The cry of petition becomes a cry of triumphant faith. "From the horns of the wild oxen You have answered me." He speaks of the answer in the past tense. In the very midst of the suffering, faith lays hold of the victory to come. He knows He has been heard. This is the confidence that enables Him to say, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit" (Luke 23:46). He knows that the dust of death is not the final word. The answer is resurrection, and this confidence is what launches the psalm into the great celebration of victory that fills the final section.

Application

First, this passage forces us to look unflinchingly at the cost of our salvation. We must not sanitize the cross. Our sin is not a small matter that required a small solution. It required this. It required the Son of God to be surrounded by the bulls of Bashan, to have His bones dislocated, His heart melted like wax, His hands and feet pierced. When we are tempted to treat sin lightly, we should come back to Psalm 22. This is what our pride, our lust, our envy, and our bitterness did to Him. The cross is where repentance goes down to the bone.

Second, we see the absolute reliability of God's Word. The details of this psalm, written a millennium before the event, were fulfilled with a precision that is supernatural. This gives us confidence that all of God's promises are just as certain. The God who prophesied the cross with such accuracy is the same God who has promised to return, to judge the living and the dead, and to make all things new. We can and must trust His Word completely.

Finally, we see the pattern for our own lives. We are called to be crucified with Christ. This means we will face opposition. The world, the flesh, and the devil will surround us like bulls, lions, and dogs. We will have moments where we feel poured out like water, where our strength fails. In those moments, we are to follow the example of our King. We are to cry out in faith, "But You, O Yahweh." We must plead with our Father, trusting not in our feelings or circumstances, but in His covenant character. And we must know, with the same certainty as our Lord, that He has heard us. The path of suffering is the path to glory. Because He was delivered from the horns of the wild oxen, we too will be delivered, and we will join Him in praising God in the great congregation.