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 kind of mobile phone you carry.

I do not know if you have a smartphone with 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 accessible.

I have a phone, and it is a good phone. I like it. I have set it according to what I need. It has a good speaker, and it can be deafening when it rings. My ringtone is unique to me, so I know who’s calling me.

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

But there is nothing more frustrating than hearing your phone ring and not remembering where you placed it. I sometimes I put it on silent, and sometimes it vibrates.

You move everything around you to locate it. When I lose my phone and ask someone in my family to call me, and when I hear its sound, I am more able to find it.

I can locate it by its sound; the sound guides me.

I do not follow what I can see. Instead, I am guided by a sound. In this way, sound often serves as a guide even when our other senses fail us.

I am guided not by sight, but by sound.

Losing the ability to hear is tough. Yet the human body is amazing! I know people who cannot hear but can feel sound. How?

Because sounds are invisible waves, yet real and essential to us. A key aspect of sound is that it guides us. It can lead us where we need to be; we can hear or feel it.

I usually watch factual documentaries. Recently, I saw a programme on emergency teams finding people trapped after earthquakes. A powerful earthquake in Mexico City collapsed an apartment building, trapping residents. Four of the building’s eight floors were stacked in the underground car park, and there was a real risk that the remaining floors would collapse too.

The team entered one by one, moving slowly and vigilantly, listening for any sign of life. When a team member hears something, the entire operation stops. Everyone falls silent and listens again. Once they hear a faint noise, they start clearing debris, stone by stone, working toward the source, knowing that someone is alive but that time is running out.

Why am I emphasising this on Good Friday?

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

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

Both phrases, “cried out” and “a loud cry,” are exact Greek words for MEGAPHONE!

Please, don’t assume that this is a giant phone! Nor an actual megaphone used to speak to people or for crowd control.

Jesus cried out to the Father, saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It was among the most powerful sounds ever heard or felt!

Then Jesus cried out again, and he gave up his spirit.

The sound of these two cries or shouts did three things:

1. It reached God’s Presence as the Temple Curtain was torn.
2. The earth shook; an earthquake split the rocks, and many dead, holy people were raised to life—even before the resurrection of Jesus.
3. The very man who was overseeing the Crucifixion, the Centurion, had an encounter with God through the death of Jesus.

Jesus’ powerful voice travelled like breaking waves, shaking and penetrating one of the hardest hearts until the Roman Centurion melted like wax!

Today, as we remember Jesus’ death on the cross, let’s focus on how God directs us to Jesus’ powerful cry—a cry that points us to the Father. He was forsaken for us.

This image is the Megaphone of Jesus’ last breath, calling us to listen beneath the rubble of our lives and the barriers we have built to silence him. If we listen quietly, we may still hear his voice. Even beneath what we call sin, there is hope—life can still be saved.

Are we listening to the Megaphone of God?

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

God’s Megaphone still rings, and God’s last cry still saves.