From the Horns of the Wild Oxen
Introduction: The Anatomy of the Cross
We live in an age that has domesticated the cross. We have tamed it, polished it, and hung it around our necks as a piece of jewelry. We have placed it on top of our church buildings as a respectable symbol. But in so doing, we have stripped it of its savage power, its bloody horror, and its cosmic significance. We have forgotten that the cross was an instrument of grotesque torture, a tool of imperial terror designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain, shame, and public humiliation.
Psalm 22, written by David a thousand years before the event, refuses to let us forget. This is not a sanitized, stained glass window depiction of the crucifixion. This is a raw, visceral, first person account from the vantage point of the victim. The first part of the psalm gave us the cry of dereliction, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Now, in this central section, the camera zooms in, and we are forced to witness the brutal mechanics of our salvation. We are shown the bestial nature of the mob, the physiological agony of the Savior, and the profound humiliation of His nakedness before a jeering world.
This is not poetry for the faint of heart. This is the language of the slaughterhouse. But we must look. We must stare into this abyss, because it is here, in the dust of death, surrounded by dogs and bulls, that the great transaction for our souls was made. It is here that the Captain of our salvation fought the decisive battle, alone. And it is here that we see not just the depths of His suffering, but the unconquerable strength of His faith.
The Text
Many bulls have surrounded me; Strong bulls of Bashan have encircled me. They open wide their mouth at me, As a lion that tears and roars. I am poured out like water, And all my bones are out of joint; My heart is like wax; It is melted within me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, And my tongue cleaves to my jaws; And You lay me in the dust of death. For dogs have surrounded me; A band of evildoers has encompassed me; They pierced my hands and my feet. I count all my bones. They look, they stare at me; They divide my garments among them, And for my clothing they cast lots. But You, O Yahweh, be not far off; O my Strength, hasten to my help. Deliver my soul from the sword, My only life from the power of the dog. Save me from the mouth of the lion; From the horns of the wild oxen You have answered me.
(Psalm 22:12-21 LSB)
The Bestial Horde (vv. 12-13, 16a)
The psalmist, speaking prophetically for the Messiah, describes his tormentors not as men, but as savage beasts.
"Many bulls have surrounded me; Strong bulls of Bashan have encircled me. They open wide their mouth at me, As a lion that tears and roars... For dogs have surrounded me; A band of evildoers has encompassed me..." (Psalm 22:12-13, 16a)
This is a spiritual diagnosis. When men reject God, they do not become noble, autonomous beings. They descend into beastliness. The "strong bulls of Bashan" are a picture of arrogant, well fed, brute power. Bashan was a region famous for its lush pastures and massive cattle. This points directly to the powerful, entitled religious and political leaders who conspired against Jesus. Think of Caiaphas, Annas, the members of the Sanhedrin. They were not dispassionate jurists; they were a trampling herd, driven by envy and rage, devoid of reason or justice. They surround Him, encircle Him, cutting off all escape.
They are also a roaring lion, gaping at Him, ready to tear and devour. This is the picture of satanic fury. Peter tells us that our adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8). At the cross, all the demonic hatred of the ages was focused on this one man. The lion roars through the mouths of the mockers, the accusers, and the crowd screaming "Crucify Him!"
And then there are the dogs. In the ancient world, dogs were not beloved pets. They were unclean, scavenging curs that ran in packs. This is the mob. This is the fickle crowd that had hailed Him with palm branches just days before. They are a "band of evildoers," circling their prey with contempt. The bulls are the powerful elite, the lion is the demonic fury behind them, and the dogs are the common rabble, swept up in the bloodlust. This is what humanity looks like when it turns on its Creator.
The Anatomy of Agony (vv. 14-15, 16b-17a)
The perspective shifts from the external tormentors to the internal, physical experience of crucifixion. The description is so medically precise it is staggering.
"I am poured out like water, And all my bones are out of joint; My heart is like wax; It is melted within me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, And my tongue cleaves to my jaws... They pierced my hands and my feet. I count all my bones." (Psalm 22:14-15, 16b-17a LSB)
"I am poured out like water" speaks of a total loss of strength, a complete dissolution of vitality. "All my bones are out of joint" is a direct reference to the effect of hanging by one's hands. The shoulders, elbows, and wrists would be dislocated by the weight of the body. The Latin word for this torture is excruciatus, from which we get "excruciating," meaning literally "out of the cross."
"My heart is like wax; it is melted within me" likely points to the medical condition of pericardial effusion, where the sac around the heart fills with fluid under extreme stress. This is what produced the "blood and water" that flowed from Jesus' pierced side, a sign that his heart had literally ruptured.
The dehydration is intense: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd," a piece of broken pottery baked brittle in the sun. "My tongue cleaves to my jaws" is the torment of thirst, which prompted one of Jesus' seven words from the cross, "I thirst" (John 19:28). And who is the ultimate agent in all this? "And You lay me in the dust of death." This is the Father's will. This is the cup given to the Son. This is not a tragic accident; it is a sovereign appointment.
Then comes the line, written centuries before the Romans employed this method of execution: "They pierced my hands and my feet." This cannot be explained away. It is a direct, unambiguous prophecy of death by crucifixion. The suffering is so extreme that His emaciated body is stretched on the frame, "I count all my bones." He is a spectacle of agony.
The Spectacle of Shame (vv. 17b-18)
Beyond the physical pain, there was a profound and calculated humiliation.
"They look, they stare at me; They divide my garments among them, And for my clothing they cast lots." (Psalm 22:17b-18 LSB)
He is stripped naked, exposed to the leering, gloating gaze of His enemies. This is the ultimate degradation. The One who clothes the lilies of the field, the One who is Himself clothed in unapproachable light, is made a public spectacle of shame. This was done to fulfill the Scripture, but it was also done to heap scorn upon Him. He bore our shame, our nakedness before the law of God, so that we might be clothed in His righteousness.
The soldiers, callously indifferent to His suffering, sit at the foot of the cross and gamble for His only earthly possessions. John's gospel records the literal fulfillment of this: they divided His outer garments into four shares, but for His seamless tunic, they said, "Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it" (John 19:23-24). Nothing is random. Every detail of this horrific event is moving according to a script written before the foundation of the world. God is sovereign even over the dice of Roman soldiers.
The Cry of Faith (vv. 19-21)
In the pit of this suffering, when all seems lost, the psalm pivots on a single word: "But." This is the great turning point. Despair gives way to a desperate, clinging faith.
"But You, O Yahweh, be not far off; O my Strength, hasten to my help... Save me from the mouth of the lion; From the horns of the wild oxen You have answered me." (Psalm 22:19, 21 LSB)
After crying out, "Why have you forsaken me?" the Messiah now cries, "be not far off." This is the paradox of faith. He feels the Father's distance in the bearing of sin, yet He appeals to the Father's covenant presence. He appeals to God by His covenant name, Yahweh. In the moment of His greatest weakness, He calls God "my Strength." This is the essence of true faith. It is not the absence of trouble, but clinging to God in the midst of it. He asks for deliverance from the sword, from the dog, from the lion, all the bestial forces arrayed against Him.
And then, suddenly, the tone shifts to triumphant assurance. "From the horns of the wild oxen You have answered me." The verb tense changes. It is a settled confidence. In the very midst of the onslaught, hanging on the cross, He knows He has been heard. The victory is won. The prayer is answered. He is staring death in the face, impaled on the horns of the enemy, and yet He declares His Father's faithfulness.
This is the cry that the resurrection vindicated. This is the faith that overcame the world. Jesus did not just die. He died in faith, trusting the Father who had laid Him in the dust of death to also raise Him from it. The answer came on the third day, when the tomb was empty and the horns of the wild oxen were broken forever.
Conclusion: Our Answered Cry
Why do we have to look at this horror? We must look because this is the price of our pardon. He was surrounded by bulls so that we could be brought into God's flock. His bones were out of joint so that our broken lives could be put back together. His heart melted like wax so that our stony hearts could be made flesh. He was pierced so that we could be made whole. He was stripped naked so that we could be clothed in white robes. He was laid in the dust of death so that we could be raised to everlasting life.
The cry of Christ from the cross becomes the ground of all our cries to God. When you are surrounded by your own bulls of Bashan, when you feel your strength failing and your heart melting, when you are stared at and mocked by the world, you can cry out to His God and your God. You can cry out to His Father and your Father.
Because God answered Jesus "from the horns of the wild oxen," we have the absolute assurance that He will answer us. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is God's eternal "Yes!" to the prayer of His Son, and it is His "Yes!" to every prayer offered in His Son's name. Our salvation was purchased not with a dignified, sterile transaction, but in blood, and dust, and agony, and an unconquerable faith that laid hold of the victory even from the jaws of death.