A Crucified Messiah

Today's lesson is about the Cross—but really, it's about what happens when God doesn't meet our expectations.
The Jews expected a conquering King. They got a crucified Servant. They studied the prophecies, prayed, waited, and when the Messiah finally came, they couldn't see Him because He didn't match the picture they'd painted.

Here's what scares me: if the most biblically educated people got it so wrong, what might we be  missing right now?

I've been gone from church for three years. I prayed desperately—for healing, for a marriage, for a job. And God said no. Or nothing. I told myself "God's ways are higher," but inside I was angry. I felt foolish. Like I'd been praying to the ceiling.

The disciples walked with Jesus—saw miracles, heard His teachings—and they were still confused and disillusioned at the Cross. Maybe anger isn't the opposite of faith. Maybe it's part of the journey.

But how do I know the difference between trusting God's mysterious ways and just making excuses for Him because I'm scared to admit I might be wrong?
The Pharisees studied, prayed, waited, and ended up on the wrong side. What if I'm doing the same thing right now and I don't even know it?

You don't wake up one morning and decide to reject the Messiah. You just interpret everything through the old framework. You assume God will act the way you expect. And then, when He shows up differently, you have a choice: adjust your framework, or reject what doesn't fit.

So how do I know if I'm doing that? I lie awake thinking about end-times prophecies. What if Jesus comes back in a way none of us expected, and we miss Him because we're defending our interpretations?

I don't have a neat answer. But the Cross looked like failure—the sky darkened, the earth shook, the Son cried out abandoned. Yet that was salvation. So when I fear being wrong, I hold this: God's character isn't determined by whether my expectations are met. It was demonstrated when everything seemed to contradict His promises.

But the Jews' expectations came from God's promises. The Cross didn't just disappoint—it made God look like a liar. I've had moments where I wondered if God is actually good. Not theoretically. In my gut. When prayers hit the ceiling and nothing changes.

I've felt that too. I was told Jesus would give me peace. I have peace about eternity, but my daily anxiety, broken family, uncertain health—they're still here. Is my faith not real? Or did I just expect wrong things?

I wish I could tell you that believing hard enough removes hard things. But the Cross teaches that God is present in suffering, not that He always removes it. It's okay to tell God His methods confuse you. It's okay to be angry. The Psalms are full of that. "My God, why have You forsaken Me?"—that's not a lack of faith. That's a cry from within faith.

But if I express anger and doubt, am I being honest or disobedient? I was raised that complaining to God is disrespectful.

There's a difference between complaining against God and lamenting to Him. Job lamented. Jeremiah lamented. Jesus lamented. They brought raw pain into God's presence. He didn't rebuke them—He engaged.
Lament is not the opposite of faith. Pretending is.

So what do I actually do when life feels like Friday and I can't see Sunday coming?

Three things. First—stay in community. The disciples scattered at the Cross. Don't isolate. Let others hold faith for you.
Second—keep showing up. Even when prayer feels empty. The rhythm matters.
Third—give yourself permission to not have all the answers. The Cross was a scandal. If you feel scandalized, you're in good company.

What if Sunday doesn't come in this life? What if I die still confused, still feeling abandoned?

Then you're with every martyr. Paul said, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are most to be pitied." Sunday might not come here. But Sunday will come. And until then, the Cross tells me God doesn't watch from a distance—He entered suffering. He knows abandonment. That doesn't erase pain. But it means I'm not alone.

I needed that more than a neat answer. I still have questions and fears. Maybe the goal isn't understanding. Maybe it's trusting someone who understands me.

The Jews were right about God's character—He saves. They were right about the promise—He delivers. They were wrong about the method. We might be wrong about many things too. But the Cross assures us that even when our expectations shatter, God's heart is still for us. That's the only thing we absolutely need to be right about.