Today is Good Friday, the anniversary of the day Christ died on the cross for us and our sins. It is the most holy day of the year for us Christians, and it has nothing to do with bunnies and eggs. It is a day when the paraments come off the alters in the Lutheran churches. Our Lord has died a cruel and undeserved death and will not rise until the third day. His disciples are huddled in the upper room, sure the authorities are coming for them next.
Kevin McCollough, at Townhall.com has an article about an incident that occurred while Jesus was hanging on the cross between two thieves. The article is entitled A Thief's Impossible Hope. One thief, representing the world and its sinfulness mocks Jesus and says "If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross and save yourself and us." But McCollough spends his time discussing the other thief, the one who at the last, believed.
The pain is constant now—no waves, no relief, just a steady, crushing reality that presses in from every side. His body is failing. His breaths are shallow. The end is not coming—it’s here.
And yet—something inside him is awakening. Not physically. Spiritually.
Because after everything he’s seen… after everything he’s heard… after the clarity that has broken through his denial and exposed his guilt… something unthinkable begins to rise: Hope.
...snip...
What if this isn’t the end? What if the man next to him… is exactly who He claims to be? What if the kingdom He spoke about… is real? What if death… isn’t the final word?
Do you understand how radical that is in this moment? Because everything around him screams finality.
The nails say it. The blood says it. The crowd says it.
This is the end.
And yet, somehow, the thief is beginning to believe the opposite. Not because of what he feels. But because of what he’s seen.
...snip...
He’s seen a man suffer without hatred. He’s heard forgiveness spoken over executioners. He’s witnessed a kind of authority that doesn’t look like power—but is power. And now, standing at the edge of eternity, he makes a leap.
Not of logic. Of faith. “Jesus… remember me… when you come into your kingdom.”
Jesus does not disappoint. Despite the gruesome torture he has been through, despite the unbearable pain, he grants this man's dying wish before he dies, just as he promises to save everyone who believes and is baptized.
When a man confronts his own sins, some that he may not know, it is enough to drive that man to his knees. But we are saved from hell by a loving God, whose grace is almost unbelievable. What love is this, that Christ was willing to die in this most horrible of ways, to save us from ourselves.
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