Lent Midweek IV
Luke 23:33-34, 39-43
March 18, 2026
Rome was just doing what Rome did. Pilate gave into the pressure even though he believed Jesus was innocent. The guards, they were just following orders. But what of the Jews? Did they know they were calling for the crucifixion of the Son of God? Probably not. Their minds and hearts were closed tightly from hearing the Word of God and so in a very real sense, they were serving the devil and didn’t know that either. Either way, they believed they were just in murdering an innocent man and yes, this is very hard to fathom.
It’s hard to fathom until we look at ourselves in the same mirror of God’s law with which we judge the Jews and see that, much of the time, we don’t know what we’re doing either. We sin and we come up short, far short of the righteous demands of the Law and we think it not a big deal. And the worst thing is when we become so desensitized to sinning that we don’t even know we’re sinning most of the time.
We know the Bible says something about not committing adultery and fleeing from sexual sins and we remember some vague words from a pastor years ago saying premarital sex is a sin or pornography is a sin or even glancing at someone with sexual desire is worthy of God’s wrath; we remember once hearing about how talking behind someone’s back is sinful and gossip is evil but the politics and the love of self-justifying just grab our attention and away our mouths go. We have a faded recollection of hearing – somewhere – that stealing in any form is worthy of death in God’s court, but we’ve done it so many times, slept in when we’re supposed to work, kept the extra quarter we got in the change, didn’t say anything when the IRS gave us $100 more than they were supposed to.
We know what God’s Law says, if only vaguely, but we also know what we like, what makes us feel good, what makes us happy, what makes us seem important or in control. And so, sin becomes our best friend, our most reliable companion even if it means that in our sin, we condemn an innocent man to death. When Jesus says, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing,” He’s saying these words, not just to the Jews or the Roman guards or to Pilate; Jesus is saying these words to you and to me because in our sin, we do not know what we are doing.
We don’t know what we’re doing when we sin and fall short of God’s glory. We don’t know how sin destroys and corrupts and brings nothing but darkness and degradation to our lives because living lives with at least a little darkness and insecurity is all we know. It’s normal and it’s how everyone else is living, at least according to the father of lies, the devil who makes the darkness to seem as light and transgression to seem as righteousness.
But Jesus knew exactly what He was doing. He knew that His suffering and death, though totally undeserved, was the only way to save the people whom He loved from being crushed and condemned on account of their sins. He knew that the blood of the innocent, His blood, poured out by nails and whips and spears, would cover humanity and that the wrath and judgement for sin would be bore upon Himself. And so, rather than falling as we do, headlong into the depths of sinning and disobedience, Jesus obeyed and submitted to His Father even as immense and unceasing pain jolt through his veins. And looking around at all the people jeering and laughing at Him and saying things like, “He saved others why not save Himself,” or “Come down from that cross if you are the Son of God,” His words against Satan and those who landed Him a death sentence is, “Father, forgive them…they don’t know what they’re doing, but I know what I’m doing. Take my life and set them free.”
And the pinnacle of how Jesus sets us free is seen in the thief on the cross. Now, it wasn’t random that these two thieves were there that day, one on Jesus’ left and one on His right. This was all part of God’s plan, all preordained to turn out as it did. The two thieves reveal what faith is and what it isn’t.
It seems like the first thief who cried out, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” was speaking from faith. He confessed Jesus as the Christ and cried out to be saved. But his cry and confession were very different than the other’s. See, the first thief didn’t want to be saved from sin and death, but from his immediate predicament. He would say anything to get out of that crucifixion, that punishment for his law-breaking. He didn’t care how; he didn’t care who; he didn’t care what laws needed to be broken to get him off that cross and back into what he considered a normal life where he could go on thieving and pillaging and having his way with women and whatever other condemnable thoughts, words, and deeds he enjoyed.
He cried out, “Save me,” but not from his real problem, not from his real guilt. So, even if Jesus did miraculously save him from the cross, he would still face God’s wrath because he did not believe.
This is the sort of faith which never calls on the Lord, never seeks His help, never even thinks about Jesus outside of maybe the occasional church service or randomly seeing a bible verse someplace, but in dire straits, in horrible situations where life is on the line, this faith will then cry out, “Help me now Jesus, save me.” It’s an inward faith, a faith more worried about the creature comforts of the body than the eternal home of the soul. A faith that seeks to keep sinning and living for sin and even calling out to God for help to keep living for sin, if necessary, but has no concern for the judgment to come.
We know people like this and sometimes we’re like this. Sometimes we get so caught up in our lives and in our worldliness and in our plans and fleshy passions that we forget about God, forget about His church, forget about our own salvation and it takes a thunderbolt from heaven to wake us up so that we fall to our knees and we realize we’re acting just like that first thief. It takes God Himself to awaken a faith in us like the faith of the second thief, a saving faith, a faith that reaches beyond the here and now and into the life to come.
He says, “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” It’s clear that at some point in his thieving and pillaging and whatever other sins he was committing in his day to day, that he came across Jesus and heard Him preach. It sparked faith in him. It didn’t mean he was suddenly a perfect person or that he no longer struggled because of sin. But it meant, even in the hour of his death brought on by his own transgressions, that he cried out to God for forgiveness and eternal life.
We don’t know the circumstances which landed this thief a Roman crucifixion and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is Jesus’ response, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” The thief on his left, he didn’t get it. He was blinded by anger and pride, and he couldn’t care less that his sins landed him an eternal death sentence. But the thief on Jesus’ right, he realized that the crucifixion he endured was well-deserved, that he was a sinner in thought, word, and deed, and that only Jesus could truly save him, not from a situation brought on by his poor and evil choices in life, but from the true and eternal consequence – the place where the worm does not die and the fire is never quenched. He sees His Lord dying with him – or as his faith declared – FOR him, and he asks Jesus to remember Him in the life to come.
As God’s people, marred and filthied up by our sins, God won’t save us from His wrath and judgment just so we can go back to sinning and living as if He doesn’t exist. He saves us so that we can be with Him forever in paradise.
So, call out to Him, seek His mercy and grace. His forgiveness is free and boundless for all who believe, who confess their sins and trust that His death on the cross means their life eternal. Let your prayer be, not as the thief who cried, “Lord, get me out of this predicament and I promise I’ll be better,” but as the thief on his right who said, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Amen.
