Luke 23:39-43
39
One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying,
"Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" 40 But the other criminal rebuked him. "Don't you
fear God," he said, "since you are under the same sentence? 41 We are
punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has
done nothing wrong." 42 Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you
come into your kingdom.” 43 Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth,
today you will be with me in paradise."
Have
you ever read or seen a “Chick Tract?” Maybe you’re not even sure what one is.
It may help if you know what a tract is in the first place (at least in the
evangelistic sense): a tract is usually a small, printed publication with some
sort of theme or eye-catching art that attracts a reader’s attention, with the
singular purpose of presenting a “plan of salvation” to the reader. A “Chick
tract” is a tract written and illustrated by Jack Chick, an Independent
Fundamentalist Baptist with a talent for drawing in a sort of comic book style.
Chick’s tracts are actually pretty great works of art (in fact, many people,
including non-Christians, collect them as culture art pieces). The message
inside of them is pretty straight-to-the-point, old-fashioned, fundamentalist,
salvation-is-a-transaction stuff.
Chick
tracts tend to focus around a story. One of the more typical plots of a Chick
tract goes something like this: Johnny is a good kid who works hard at his job,
loves his family, volunteers in his community, and even attends church every
week, but Johnny hasn’t said the “sinner’s prayer” or “asked Jesus into his
heart” in the way fundamentalists expect him to, so when Johnny dies unexpectedly
(he’s hit by a bus, has a heart attack, goes down in a fiery plane crash, or
some other attention-getting form of immediate death), he finds himself burning
in the eternal fires of hell with the devil (horns and all) and his demons
forever and ever.
On the other hand,
there’s Charlie. Charlie is “bad boy”: he cusses, drinks, smokes, drives fast,
breaks the rules, and he may even have long hair! Charlie doesn’t go church,
doesn’t believe in God, and doesn’t plan on doing either anytime soon. Yet, when
Charlie gets sick and knows he’s about to die, a preacher (or other Christian)
tells Charlie that he’ll go to hell if he doesn’t accept Jesus into his heart
and pray a “sinner’s prayer.” Of course, Charlie—right before his death and
just in the nick of time—prays the right prayer, and just after he dies he
finds himself in heaven. The moral of this sort of story is pretty clear: it
doesn’t matter how you live your life, so long as you say the right prayer at
some point before you die, then you can go to heaven and not spend eternity suffering
in hell. I hope you can see the inherent flaws in such a pseudo-theology, the
notion that all that really matters is making sure you’ve said the right sort
of prayer at some point in your life, even if it’s right before you die.
Yet, it seems that the
story before us this morning, the story of the “penitent thief,” shares a
similar plot—at least on the surface. Here we have a man, a thief, a criminal
(whom tradition has named Dismus, or Dysmus),[1]
and in his very last moments, with some of his final breath, he confesses his
crimes, admits he deserves the punishment he and the other criminal are
receiving, and asks Jesus if he’ll remember him when he comes into his kingdom.
One could easily extrapolate a formula, a “plan of salvation” from this
crucified criminal’s confession. However, it’s Jesus’ words that change this
scene into something more, his second set of words from the cross that force us
to listen and understand what is happening in this moment. You see, this scene
isn’t just about some wild, rebellious soul squeaking his way out of hell at
the eleventh hour. It isn’t a precedent for avoiding a life of discipleship, or
a proof-text excuse to ignore the gospel call of love and service to others.
It’s none of those things, nothing of the sort. To water down this scene to
such a trite expression of what it takes to get to heaven or avoid hell is to ignore
the rest of Jesus’ teachings throughout the gospels about what it means to live
a life of discipleship and the very nature of the kingdom of God. We need to
hear it again, to listen closely to what’s being said.
Listen again to the first
criminal’s words in verse 39: "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself
and us!" His words are a personal echo of those words we heard
(last week) from the leaders and soldiers in verses 35 and 37. The difference here is that this criminal wishes
for Jesus to save himself and him! The irony present in Luke’s telling, of
course, is that Jesus is actually saving them all—saving us—by remaining there
on the cross, by showing the world that the power of God is found in the
self-emptying love of one willing to die for those he loves. This first
criminal, however, wants to be freed from the horrendous execution he is
experiencing; he wants off his own cross; he wants to set his feet back on the
ground, his arms around family. He wants to be saved from the pain and
humiliation that comes with crucifixion, to be spared the long, agonizing death
reserved for those whom the Romans wished to make an example. His tone is
sarcastic, taunting even. He never believes for a moment that Jesus can deliver
him from this pain, but it’s seems at least worth a shot. The salvation he
wants is pain-free, without humiliation, a salvation that offers freedom from
discomfort and suffering. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the kind of
salvation Jesus offers.
Only
Luke tells us about the conversation between these two criminals, when the
second rebukes the first in verses 40
and 41: “‘Don’t you fear God,’ he said, ‘since
you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting
what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.’"
Here is the criminal’s confession: “We’re getting what we deserve, but this man
is innocent.” He is the third one (along with Herod and Pilate, not exactly
heroes in the gospels) to proclaim Jesus’ innocence.[2]
After his rebuke of the first criminal and his confession of their collective
guilt, the second criminal turns to Jesus in verse 42 and says, "Jesus, remember me when you come into
your kingdom.”
Here
is a man sentenced to death, quite literally in the middle of being executed
with Jesus, and he asks to be remembered by Jesus when he comes into his
kingdom. This is way more than just some confessional desire to go to heaven
after he dies. This is a dying thief recognizing Jesus, (whom he calls by
name—the only one in the gospel accounts who does so) in the midst of his pain
and suffering, as the one bringing the kingdom he has been speaking about since
the beginning. This isn’t Peter on the cross. It’s not Andrew, Levi, James, or
John. It isn’t even his mother Mary or any of his siblings. The one asking to
be remembered, the one confessing his belief in Christ’s coming kingdom of God
isn’t one who’s been hearing about it for years as he traveled with the rabbi. It
isn’t one who’s witnessed the miracles of healing, the feeding of thousands, or
the raising of the dead. No, it is one who sees the pain and anguish of Jesus,
one who witnesses the love of one suffering for his beloved. That’s the one—the
only one—who makes any sort of confession, any request of Jesus as he suffered
on the cross.
His
request seems to be a meager one, to simply be remembered by Jesus when he
comes into his kingdom, to be remembered when the conquering king returns so
that he may not be thrown out or crushed with the other enemies of the kingdom.
He asks that Jesus remember him for his last-minute defense of Jesus’
innocence, to be spared from whatever vengeance Christ may be bringing on those
who turned from him, those who crucified him. It is a request to be included in
the coming, future kingdom of the righteous. This man wants to be remembered,
included, not left out. He wants to be remembered so that if and when Jesus—the
King of the Jews as it said so clearly above his head—brings this kingdom he
won’t be forgotten and treated as an outsider. It is a humble request of
self-preservation, yet even so, it is shown to be misguided by Jesus’ response.
In
verse 43 Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with
me in paradise." Jesus’ response to the criminal’s request is so
much more than an affirmation that he’ll get to go to heaven when he dies. Jesus’
words speak of the immediacy of the kingdom, the immediacy of the real
salvation that he has been bringing with the in-breaking kingdom of God.
Salvation, heaven, the kingdom, paradise isn’t just some far off, distant place
beyond the clouds where everybody wears white robes, plays the harp, and skips
hand-in-hand on golden streets along a crystal sea behind a pearled gate. The kingdom
of heaven is among us—just as Jesus said from the beginning of his ministry,
and with these words to this thief Jesus reminds us that it is an immediate,
present reality. Salvation isn’t something that happens to us when we die. It
isn’t just a reorientation of our post-life destination. Salvation is something
that affects us here and now—TODAY!
And
here’s the big thing—when Jesus tells this crucified criminal that he will be WITH Jesus TODAY he means NOW, not “in a little while, when we’re both dead
and in heaven.” Jesus is saying that salvation isn’t pain-free—it took place on
a cross! Salvation isn’t without pain, trials, suffering, confusion, or even
death, but the power of Christ transforms our pain, our suffering, our
struggles, even our defeats into something glorious in the kingdom of God. For
when we truly wish to be with Jesus, to be remembered by him in his kingdom, to
be saved, we are seeking the way of the cross, a way that leads through
selfless love and compassionate sacrifice. We are seeking something that
matters right here, right now—not something that only matters when we’re dead.
So
let us live as if we believe that salvation is something that we experience
here and now—not simply something reserved for us when we die. Let us live as
if we believe the kingdom of heaven is here, among us, now. Let us face the
hard times of life knowing that even they will be transformed into something
glorious for God’s kingdom. Let us look forward to the good times, knowing they
are but a glimpse of the fullness of that in-breaking kingdom of heaven. Let us
live as if we truly believe that we are in the presence of Jesus—that he is
with us even at this very moment, that today, we can be with him. Christ is
here in this place at this very moment. The kingdom of God is among us here in
this place at this very moment. Won’t take hold of the salvation that Christ
has offered freely to us through his love, the salvation that does not wait for
your death to mean something, that salvation that brings you into the real,
immediate presence of Christ? Won’t you call on Jesus and live in with him
today? Amen.
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