(Editors’ note: This article was originally published at Reformation21.)
The thief who was saved on the cross has been the occasion of far too many unnecessary debates over whether one can be saved apart from baptism or without performing any good works or whether death-bed conversions are reliable. Such discussions distract from the truly remarkable theology this man possessed — a theology that leads me to regard him as one of the great theologians of the New Testament (see Luke 23:39–43)
His salvation is the result of Christ’s intercession: “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34). Remember that earlier, while hanging on the cross, this thief, together with the other criminal, was reviling Christ (Matt. 27:44). Yet the transformation that unfolded continues to amaze me.
Consider the circumstances. Christ was hanging on a cross, not performing miracles, such as walking on water or raising the dead. No one was crying out, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29).
Instead, the voices around Him were the voices of fallen humanity. The first thief spoke in a way that perfectly reflected the natural human condition: “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” (v. 39). In many ways, this was the devil’s theology. During Christ’s temptation, Satan likewise urged Him to save Himself (Luke 4:10). How many today cry, “Lord, get me out of this predicament, and then I will do better. Then I will become a Christian.”
The first thief believed it would be better if Christ performed a miracle to secure their escape. Yet this is the theology of the flesh.
The repentant thief, however, displays a theology from above. He possesses what John Murray called the soul of godliness: He fears God. “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation?” (v. 40). Already this dying robber is ahead of many evangelicals today who have lost any meaningful sense of the reverential fear of God.
But his theology becomes even richer.
He openly admits his guilt. The theology from below is captured well in The Shawshank Redemption: “Everybody’s innocent in here, don’t you know that?” In jail, everyone is innocent; but in church everyone is guilty. The thief, in addition to fearing God, confesses his own sin:
“And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong” (v. 41).
This is the hallmark of true theology: we are in the wrong, and God is in the right. “God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13).
One of our greatest temptations is self-justification. That is why the doctrine of justification is so precious. We abandon the impossible task of justifying ourselves and instead rest in God’s declaration that we are righteous through faith in Christ. One is the theology from above; the other is the theology from below.
When the robber says, “This man has done nothing wrong,” we naturally wonder how much he understood. Certainly, Jesus is the only person of whom this can ultimately be said. Indeed, we confess not only that Jesus did nothing wrong, but that He did everything right.
Perhaps the thief simply believed Jesus did not deserve to be crucified. Yet, in light of everything else he says, I wonder whether he understood even more. He seems clearly aware that the One dying beside him was no ordinary man. His next words certainly suggest as much.
The faith displayed here may be one of the greatest acts of faith recorded anywhere in Scripture:
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (v. 42).
Where are Christ’s disciples? This robber believes that a man hanging on a cross possesses a kingdom. Think about that.
Unlike Thomas, who believed after seeing the risen Lord of glory, this thief believed while looking upon a man hanging on a cross under God’s curse (Gal. 3:13). Many witnessed Jesus raise the dead and still refused to believe. This man watched Jesus die and believed He was a King with a kingdom.
For the unrepentant criminal, Jesus must come down from the cross in order to save. For the penitent criminal, Jesus must remain on the cross and accomplish His divine work of salvation. The stark difference between these two men is explained by one thing alone: faith.
And faith is always rewarded.
Christ offers this dying man what no one else could ever give him. The greatness of the thief’s faith is met by the greatness of Christ’s assurance:
“Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise” (v. 43).
This is the final time in Scripture that Jesus says, “Truly, I say to you.” It is a fitting conclusion, for these words reveal precisely why He came into the world. The most hopeless situation imaginable is completely transformed. Christ is at His best when we are at our worst.
The answer to Christ’s prayer in John 17:24 — “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory” — begins to be fulfilled with a dying thief whose faith could move mountains.
If anyone anticipated the words of Augustus Toplady’s great hymn, it was this remarkable theologian — a dying thief who believed that the condemned man hanging under God’s curse possessed an everlasting kingdom and would receive him into it despite all his sin and misery:
Nothing in my hands I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly,
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
— Dr. Mark Jones is a pastor at Faith Reformed Presbyterian Church in Vancouver, British Columbia.
