D.L.

“At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).  When some of those standing near heard this, they said, “Listen, he’s calling Elijah.” Someone ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to take him down,” he said. With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.”

(Mark 15:33–37 NIV11)

I do not know what can of mobile phone you carry.

I do not know if you have a smartphone will all the apps and an excellent camera.

We live in a world where we are catching up with technology and where information is so easily accessed.

I have a phone, and it is a good phone. I like it. I have set according to what I need. It has a good speaker, and it can be deafening when it rings, and my ring tone is unique to me so that I know when people are calling me.

When it does ring, my attention is diverted to my screen and so that I can see who is calling me.

But there is nothing more frustrating when you hear your phone, but you cannot remember where you placed it. It rings and rings, and you move everything around you so that you can locate it. Sometimes I lose my phone and ask someone in my family to call me, and when I hear its sounds, I am more able to find it.

Sounds are waves that we do not see, but they are real, essential for us. One significant aspect of sound is that it directs us. It can lead us to the place where we need to be.

I usually watch factual life documentaries. I watched an emergency team-leading expert programme in finding people trapped underneath rubbles whenever there is an earthquake. A few years ago, a powerful earthquake in Mexico City and an apartment building collapsed, trapping people. The building had eight floors, and four of the floors were pile up on top of each other on the underground car-park. The risk of the other eight floors collapsing on to was very real.

So the team went in, one by one, slowly and vigilant, ready to hear a sound of life. When one of the team hears something, the whole rescue operation stops. Everyone is silent, no one moves, and if they listen to it again and when they are sure of slight noise, then they get to work, taking one stone, one debris at a time so that they can get to the source of the noise because they know that someone is alive but not for much longer.

Why am I saying this?

Because Jesus, we are told, cried out twice, one to his Father and one to the world who watched him die.

• He cried out, “Father, why have you forsaken me”.
• Jesus, with a loud cry, he breathed his last”.

Both set of words “cried out and lauded cry” are the exact words in Greek meaning MEGAPHONE!

God is pointing us towards the sound of Jesus, to the mighty volume of the shout of Jesus who is pointing to the Father on our behalf! He was forsaken for us.

This is also the Megaphone of Jesus last breath, calling us deep within the rubbles of our lives, over the many layers of bricks and mortar that we have built to make him silent. Yet, if we are silent, we can still hear his voice, and who knows underneath all the piles of things we call sin, life can still be saved.

Are we listening to God’s megaphone?

Or are we still listening to the other mocking voices that are whispering in our ears, “you can save yourself”?

God’s Megaphone still ringing, and the God on the Cross can still be heard.