The first one home is a thief. For Jesus told him, “I assure you: Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus spoke those words—not to a devout man, or to a fine, respectable citizen, or to one of His disciples—but to a convicted criminal, found guilty of a capital crime. No doubt, Jesus wasn’t finicky about the company He keeps.
Two crucified criminals on a hill called “The Skull.” And there Jesus is—the innocent between the guilty. They committed a crime worthy of death. But, not just execution—crucifixion! And they would die in such dire distress whether Jesus was there or not.
The Romans condemned them to die a cruel and torturous death. But, as odd as it sounds, God gave them a privilege that day. They were next to Jesus, one at His left and one at His right when He entered His kingdom. The disciples bickered earlier over that same privilege. Little did they realize what they were asking Jesus to do for them. Who could have known?
The exact nature of their crime escapes us. “Criminals” is what Scripture calls them. Perhaps, “insurgent” or “terrorist” strikes closer to the reality of the words we use today. For these were no common thieves. No, they presented a threat to the Roman Empire. The Romans used such public crucifixions to deter crimes against the state.
So, there they were—dying on their crosses. One was to the left of Jesus, the other to the right. The one on the left reviles Jesus with cutting scorn, joining the barbed tongues of the religious leaders, who had come to shake their fists and wag their heads. “You’re the Messiah, aren’t you? So, save yourself!”
Strange, isn’t it. Such mockery comes in the form of a prayer for salvation. “Save yourself—and us!” But this isn’t a prayer of faith, but of ridicule. What Savior are You? What Messiah are You going to be? Display some prophetic power and save Yourself—and us! Or are you a fake, an impostor, a phony Christ? Spare Yourself from this death, and save us while You’re saving Yourself.
This thief on the left is a mouthpiece for the unbelieving world. His “prayer” of ridicule comes in the form of demand, not a Kyrie, not in “Lord, have mercy.” If Jesus is worth His two cents as the Messiah, He would come down from His condemning cross and save Himself. Oh, and while He’s at it, save His fellow criminals.
But that’s not the way of salvation. That’s the devil’s way. That’s Peter’s way, in his sinful flesh; you know, the Peter, who took Jesus aside and scolded Him for speaking of His death and resurrection. This mocking prayer echoes Satan’s temptations in the wilderness: “If You are the Son of God…” then do this or do that (Luke 4:3, 9).
The thief on the right scolds the other. “Don’t you even fear God since you’re suffering the same punishment?” The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10). To fear the Lord is to put all other fears in their place, below Him.
“We are to fear, love, and trust in God above all things,” Luther wrote. That’s true in life, even more so at life’s end, when we also find ourselves under the same death sentence of the Law. To fear the Lord in those circumstances is to be wise in the way of faith. It’s trusting that in both life and death, Jesus is mighty to save.
This thief is a repentant sinner. He confesses his sin and speaks the truth: “Our punishment is fair because we’re getting what we deserve.” He admits the truth: he committed a crime and deserved punishment for it. He does not blame others for what is happening to him. He does not play the victim. He owns up to his evil acts. He confesses his sin and guilt. He repents.
We are now in the Lenten season. And Lent is a season of repentance. This repentant thief shows what God calls us to do: to repent! You may not be guilty of mutiny or murder, but you are guilty of sin. Scripture reveals, “Whoever keeps the whole Law but fails in one point is guilty of breaking it all” (James 2:19). Yes, “the wages of sin are death” (Romans 6:23)
Like the thief on the cross, confess that you too should suffer the punishment for your guilt. If that were so, you would just be getting what you deserve. But like the thief, turn to Jesus for rescue. In his most desperate hour, he turned to Jesus in hope. And he found it, there in Jesus.
What did this thief know of Jesus? We haven’t a clue. All we know is his final prayer: “Jesus, remember me when You enter Your kingdom!” and what that meant for a Jewish man to be saying that to Jesus, as they both faced death.
Of all the people to address Jesus, he’s the only one to use Jesus’ name without some other title. He calls Him “Jesus,” and nothing else. It was familiar and direct, with no flattery: “Jesus.” But remember that Jesus means “he saves.”
“Remember me when You enter Your kingdom.” So few words, overflowing with faith. He sees this bleeding man, dying next to him and believes the sign above His head. Jesus IS a King with a kingdom. That dying man looks to Jesus, and he sees a king.
The scribes, priests, and soldiers all mock Jesus. To them, He’s nothing but a fake king or a pretender. The one thief is different. He recognizes the real king next to him. He realizes Jesus has a kingdom, one not of this world. What does that mean? This: he realizes that Jesus is God. For who else has a real kingdom, not of this world?
“Jesus, remember me…” All this criminal seeks is for Jesus, God in human flesh, to remember him. He doesn’t ask Jesus to spare him the agonies of death, or even to rescue him. He only wants Jesus to remember him. Don’t forget that this criminal is a Jewish man crucified in Judea. He grew up learning how God remembered His people and how they remembered who He was every Passover.
Such few words containing so much content. He recognizes Jesus is God and, of course, God doesn’t forget His own. And so, when Jesus does what the repentant criminal asks of Him, that makes all the difference, even an eternal difference. That day, as in days of old, God remembered.
Long before, “The Israelites groaned in their slavery. They cried out, and their cry for help… went up to God. He took note of their groaning and remembered His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Exodus 2:23-24). The Psalms remind us that God “remembers his covenant forever” (Psalm 105:8).
Through Prophet Isaiah, God tell us: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast or lack compassion for the child of her womb? Although she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15). Speaking through Prophet Jeremiah, God tells us: “I will forgive their wickedness and remember their sin no more” (Jeremiah 31:34).
In the man next to Him, in his words, “Remember me,” Jesus sees faith, even if it’s but a mustard seed. For even that faith can move the mountains. And Jesus credits such faith as righteousness, sealed with His own “Amen”: “I assure you: Today, you will be with me in paradise.”
On the killing grounds called “The Skull,” it didn’t feel much like heaven that afternoon, did it. But there, our Lord’s response to the thief’s faith was so much greater than the faith he had. Give Jesus an opening, and He opens life to wonder beyond our knowing. This crucified King speaks paradise to the repentant thief while the unbelieving thief could only see what he was losing—his version of paradise lost.
Some speculate, “Was that criminal baptized?” Some make him the great example of just how unnecessary baptism is. But that misses the point. He doesn’t need baptism, for baptism is Jesus’ way to connect someone to His death and resurrection after He returns to heaven (Romans 6:3-5). But Jesus Himself is there, next to him, dying, nailed to the cross, directly speaking His Word of salvation to him.
That criminal hears the people taunting Jesus, calling Him the Messiah and the Son of God. And, in faith, he believes it! And Jesus responds to the repentant thief, giving words of hope to the hopeless: “I assure you: Today, you will be with me in paradise.”
Jesus, the King of kings, promises him a kingdom. He declares, “Amen,” “This is true,” “I assure you.” That means what Jesus says next will be as real as Jesus Himself: “Today.” Not in some distant future but “today.” Then the word “you” comes to the thief. Not someone else, but you “will,” not might, WILL be with me in paradise, in heaven.
What Man is this, who speaks paradise to a dying thief confessing his guilt? What Justice is this, who speaks pardon to the unpardonable, who acquits the guilty, who saves those whom society judges as worthy of the cruelest form of death? He’s the Savior of the world, THE Redeemer. He brings peace to the enemy and justifies the sinner. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).
What did the thief do to deserve this promise? What did he do to earn this paradise? Nothing! We find no better example of God’s saving act by grace alone. That man deserved condemnation, but he received justification. He deserved rejection, but he gets restoration. He deserved damnation, but in the end, he inherits paradise.
“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Believe that word of promise. For it’s God’s Word for you now—and when death is at your door. For none of us knows when some future “today” will be the day or hour when Paradise opens for us in death. Amen.
