Faith sometimes comes in unlikely places, in unlikely ways, in unlikely people. No person in history may have had a more unlikely experience of faith than the man who hung on the cross beside Jesus. Suffering his own just punishment, as he would describe it, he would be the first to see Jesus’ death on the cross as something more than a great hopeless tragedy. The Roman Centurion would witness Jesus’ death and declare, “Surely this man was the Son of God” but there is no indication his statement was anything more than observing a tragic loss or that had any future significance for the life of the centurion.
Peter had at one time declared of Jesus, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” but he was nowhere to be found on this day having fled with the other disciples. No, the first man to see Jesus’ death as victory would be the man hanging beside him. In simple, incredible words he would make his request of Jesus, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” In response to this man’s incredible faith, he would hear Jesus’ words “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Salvation had come to the man suffering beside Jesus.
What happened to the thief hanging beside Jesus in the next moments? Did anything change for him? In one respect, no. Nothing changed for this man. He still hung on a cross, people still hurled insults at him. Salvation came, but suffering did not end. He was not in that moment lifted from the cross. He did not even experience a quicker, easier death. His body still writhed in pain and as the shadows grew long his legs would still be broken to speed his death. Nothing changed and yet everything changed. This man could know in his heart that his death was not the end. He might say as Paul does in 1 Corinthians, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting” (15:55)?
As Christians, we are often tempted to paint faith as a “Get out of Jail Free Card” on human suffering and trials. While we may not say it so explicitly, we live as though we believe if we only say a little prayer then any problems we might have in this life will be magically taken from us and we will live life in perfect harmony. How do I know this? Because we panic when suffering comes and have a crisis in our faith. Faith doesn’t take away pain. Faith changes the lens through which we see our pain. Faith did not take away the man on the cross’ pain. Faith enabled him to see his pain through the lens of Jesus’ promise to be with him in paradise.
John Wesley would say of early Methodists, “Our people die well.” So did the thief. He died well because he had met the Lord of life. May we not only die well but live well, living life through the lens of the promise that “weeping may remain for a night but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5) for in the morning, Jesus says, you will be with me in paradise.
Blessings,
Stephen
Giving credit where it is due:
The concept for this series of blog posts and its accompanying sermon series draw from the masterful work, Seven Words to the Cross: A Lenten Study for Adults by J. Ellsworth Kalas.