When they came to a place called the Skull, the
soldiers crucified Jesus and the criminals—one on his right and the other on
his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they
are doing.” (Luke 23:33-34)
Here's a checklist
of three things you should know about checklists: (1) they're everywhere – on
TV, in the movies and on the radio; (2) they're getting longer than ever, like "100
Travel Bucket List Ideas for 2020;” and (3) there's a checklist for just about
everything; it’s become an obsession. For instance, in Men’s Health, a monthly magazine, there are at least a dozen checklists
and some 2,000 tips in every issue. And checklists are perfect for guys with
short attention spans because it tells you right up front how long it's
probably going to take you to read the checklist. If it says, “Five things,”
you're like, “Alright, I've got a couple of minutes; I'll read that.” But if it's
a hundred things, or a thousand-and-one things, then it’s “Wow. I’ll need a Fresca and a tuna sandwich for that one; I think I’ll take a pass.”
A colleague
relayed a story about a woman who nearly missed a flight that he was on. In
fact, he thought he had the row all to himself until he looked up and saw her
puffing down the aisle, dragging two large bags. “I hate to fly,” she blurted
out as she fell into her seat. “I put off getting here as long as I could.” He described
her as tall, young, blonde, tan, and talkative. Her jeans were fashionably
ripped at the knees, and her black boots boasted silver tips. She really hated to
fly, he learned, and the way she coped was by talking. “I’m going home to see
my dad. He’ll really be amazed at my tan. He thinks I’m crazy living in
California — me being single and all. I’ve got this new boyfriend, he’s from
Lebanon. He travels a lot though, so I only see him on weekends, which is fine
with me because that gives me the house to myself which isn’t far from the
beach and .…”
My
friend has learned what to do when a friendly, attractive woman sits beside him.
He says that as soon as possible he reveals his profession and marital status.
It keeps them both out of trouble. “My wife hates to
fly, too,” he jumped in when she took a breath, “so I know how you feel. And
since I’m a minister, I know a section of the
Bible you might like to read as we take off.” So, he pulled his Bible out of his
briefcase and opened it to the 23rd Psalm. And for the first time
she was quiet. “The Lord is my shepherd,” she read the words then looked up
with a broad smile. “I remember this,” she said as the plane was taking off. “I
read it when I was young.” She turned to read some more.
The next time
she looked up, however, there was a tear in her eye. “It’s been a long time. A
long, long time.” She explained how she had once believed. She became a
Christian when she was young, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d
been to church. They talked for awhile about faith and second chances and then my
friend asked her, “Do you believe in heaven?” “Yeah,” she replied. “Do you
think you’ll go there?” he said. She looked away for a minute and then turned
and answered confidently, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be in heaven.” “How do you know?” “How
do I know I’m going to heaven?” She grew quiet as she formulated her response, which was her checklist. “Well, I’m basically good. I don’t do drugs. I exercise. I’m
dependable at work and,” she counted each achievement on a finger, “I made my
boyfriend get tested for AIDS.”
Ta-Da! That was
her checklist. Her qualifications. By her way of thinking, heaven could be
earned by good health habits and safe sex. Her line of logic was simple — I
keep the checklist on this side, and I get the place on the other side. But before
we’re too hard on her, let me ask you: What’s
on your checklist? Most of us are like the girl on the plane, and most of us
think we’re “basically good;” that we’re decent, hardworking folk and we have
a checklist to prove it. Maybe ours doesn’t include exercise or AIDS, but we have
a checklist. “I pay my bills.” “I love my spouse and kids.” “I’m better than
Hitler.” “I’m basically good.” Most of us have a checklist, and there’s a
purpose for the checklist: to prove we’re good. But there’s a problem with the checklist:
none of us are good enough.
Paul made this
point when he placed two short-fused sticks of dynamite in the third chapter of
his letter to the church in Rome. The first is in verse 10: “There is no one
who always does what is right,” he wrote, “not even one.” No one. Not you. Not
me. Not anyone. The second explosion occurs thirteen verses later in verse 23:
“All have sinned and are not good enough for God’s glory.” Boom. So much for checklists.
So much for being “basically good.” But then how do we go to heaven? If no one
is good, if no checklist is sufficient, if no achievements are adequate, how
can a person be saved? No question is more crucial. And to hear Jesus answer
it, consider the last encounter he had before he gave up his spirit – an encounter
with a criminal.
Now, some would like
to think that the two thieves in the story were victims. Undeserving of
punishment. Good men who got a bad rap. Patriots dying a martyr’s death. But that’s
not the case. Matthew dispels that notion with just one word in one verse: “the
robbers who were being crucified
beside Jesus also insulted him.” (Matt. 27:44) Tragedy has a way of revealing a
person’s character. And the tragedy of this crucifixion reveals that these two
thieves had none. They slander Jesus with their last breath. Can you hear them?
Voices, husky with pain, sneer at the Messiah. “Some king of the Jews you are.”
“Life is pretty tough on Messiahs these days, eh?” “How about a little miracle,
Galilean?” “Ever see nails that size in Nazareth?” “Hey, you’re a carpenter;
did you make that thing?”
You’d have expected
that from the Pharisees. You’d have expected it from the crowd. Even the mocking
of the soldiers isn’t surprising. But from the thieves? Crucified men insulting
a crucified man? That’s like two men with nooses on their necks ridiculing the
plight of the third on the platform; or two POWs before a firing squad taunting
each other’s misfortune. Could anyone be blinder? Could anyone be more vile? No
wonder these guys were on the cross. Rome deemed them worthy of an ugly
torture. Their only value to society was to serve as a public spectacle. Strip
them naked so all will know that evil cannot hide. Nail their hands so all will
see that the wicked have no strength. Post them high so all will tell their
children, “That’s what happens to evil men.” Every muscle in their body screams
for relief. Nails pulse fire through their arms. Legs contort and twist seeking
comfort. But there’s no comfort on a cross. Yet even the pain of the spikes
won’t silence their spiteful tongues. These two will die as they lived –
attacking the innocent. But in this case, the innocent doesn’t retaliate.
The man they
mocked wasn’t much to look at. His body was whip-torn flesh yanked away from
the bone. His face was a mask of blood and spit; eyes puffy and swollen. “King
of the Jews” was painted over his head. A crown of thorns had pierced his
scalp. His lip was split. Maybe his nose was bleeding, or a tooth was loose. The
man they mocked was half-dead. The man they mocked was beaten. But the man they
mocked was at peace. “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they
are doing.” (Luke 23:34)
After Jesus’
prayer, one of the criminals began to shout insults at him: “Aren’t you the
Christ? Then save yourself and us.” (vs. 39) The heart of this thief remained
hard. The presence of Christ crucified meant nothing to him. Jesus is worthy of
ridicule, so the thief ridicules. And he expects his chorus to be harmonized
from the cross on the other side of Jesus. But it isn’t. It’s challenged, instead.
“You should fear God! You are getting the same punishment he is. We are
punished justly, getting what we deserve for what we did. But this man has done
nothing wrong.” (v. 40-41) Unbelievable. The same mouth that cursed Christ now
defends Christ. What happened? What’s he seen since he’s been on the cross? Did
he witness a miracle? Did he hear a lecture? Was he read a treatise on the
trinity? No, none of that. According to Luke, all he heard was a prayer – a prayer
of grace. But that was enough. Something happens to a person who stands in the
presence of God. And something happened to that thief.
Read his words again.
“We are punished justly, getting what we deserve…. But this man has done
nothing wrong.” That’s the core of the gospel in one sentence. The essence of
eternity through the mouth of a felon: I’m wrong; Jesus is right. I’ve failed;
Jesus hasn’t. I deserve to die; Jesus deserves to live. The thief knew precious
little about Jesus, but what he knew was precious indeed. He knew that an
innocent man was dying an unjust death with no complaint on his lips. And if
Jesus can do that, perhaps he thought, he just might be who he says he is. So
the thief asks for help: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The
heavy head of Christ lifts and turns, and the eyes of these two meet. What
Jesus sees is a naked man, and I don’t mean in terms of clothes. I mean in terms of
charades. He has no cover. No way to hide. His title? Scum of the earth. His
achievement? Death by crucifixion. His reputation? Criminal. His character?
Depraved until the last moment. Until the final hour. Until the last encounter.
Until now.
Tell me, what
has this man done to warrant help? He’d wasted his life. I mean, who’s he to
beg for forgiveness? He publicly scoffed at Jesus. What right does he have to
pray this prayer? The same right we have to pray our prayer. You see, that’s you and
me on the cross. Naked, desolate, hopeless and estranged. That’s us. That’s us
asking, “In spite of what I’ve done, in spite of what you see, is there any way
you could remember me when we all get home?” We don’t boast. We don’t produce
our checklists. Any sacrifice appears silly when placed before God on a cross.
It’s more than
we deserve. But we’re desperate. So we plead, as have so many others – the cripple
at the pool; Mary at the wedding; Martha at the funeral; the demoniac at
Geresene; Nicodemus at night; Peter on the sea; Jairus on the trail; Joseph at
the stable. And every other human being who has dared to stand before the Son
of God and admit his or her need. We, like the thief, have one more prayer. And
we, like the thief, pray. And we, like the thief, hear the voice of grace. Today you will be with me in paradise. And
we, like the thief, are able to endure the pain knowing he’ll one day take us
home.
You can put that
one on your checklist.
Grace,
Randy
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