Week 4 Monday - That First Easter... I Was There
Day 22: The Criminal Who Believed
Day 22: The Criminal Who Believed
Luke 23:32-43
Introduction
He had nothing left to offer.
No track record of faithfulness. No years of devoted service. No theological training, no spiritual disciplines, no good works to point to in his defense. By the time he turned to Jesus, he was hours from death — nailed to a cross, body wrecked, life already forfeited by his own choices. There was nothing left to negotiate with. Nothing left to bring.
And he became the first person Jesus personally promised paradise to.
We don’t know his name. We don’t know what he had done to earn a Roman crucifixion — only that he admitted, in his final hours, that he had done something, that the sentence was just, and that the man dying on the cross beside him was innocent. Three things: honesty about his guilt, acknowledgment of Jesus’ innocence, and a single desperate request to the King: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
That’s it. No sinner’s prayer. No time for baptism. No opportunity for discipleship or growth or fruit. Just a dying man, a few honest words, and a turn of his head toward the one person on that hill who still had something to give.
What he received in return should undo every one of us.
“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
Not eventually. Not conditionally. Not “if you can hold on long enough” or “once you’ve done enough penance” or “when the books are balanced.” Today. With Me. Paradise.
The cross would be his end. But it was the beginning of everything he’d never imagined.
Scripture
³² Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. ³³ When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. ³⁴ Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided his garments by casting lots.
³⁵ The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.”
³⁶ The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar ³⁷ and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”
³⁸ There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.
³⁹ One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”
⁴⁰ But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? ⁴¹ We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”
⁴² Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
⁴³ Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
— Luke 23:32-43 (NIV)
Reflection
The Last Man Anyone Expected
Two criminals flank Jesus at the crucifixion. Matthew tells us that at first, both of them mocked Him. One of them kept it up — hurling insults until the end, demanding rescue from the very man he was helping crucify with his words. The other one stopped.
Something shifted. Maybe it was Jesus’ prayer from the cross — “Father, forgive them” — spoken while soldiers were still hammering nails. Maybe it was the sign above Jesus’ head, the charge that read THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. Maybe it was simply proximity: hours of dying next to a man who was somehow, inexplicably, more at peace than anyone else on that hill.
Whatever it was, he stopped mocking and started seeing. He rebuked the other criminal with a clarity that shames the religious leaders who had spent their lives studying Scripture: “We are punished justly. This man has done nothing wrong.” Guilt acknowledged. Innocence recognized. And then — with nothing left to lose and everything to hope for — a request of the King so simple it almost doesn’t feel like enough: “Jesus, remember me.”
Not “save me.” Not “get me down from this cross.” Not even “forgive me,” though that was surely underneath it. Just: remember me. See me. Don’t let me just disappear from this life. Know that I existed, and that in my last hour, I turned toward You.
That was enough. It has always been enough.
Jesus didn’t make him prove it. Didn’t ask him to wait and see if the sentiment held. Didn’t say “I’ll consider it” or “we’ll talk about this further.” He gave him the most extravagant promise in the history of last words: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
We Are Like Him
We like to think we come to Jesus with something. Years of good behavior, or at least decent effort. A track record that isn’t entirely embarrassing. Some contribution we’ve made that might tip the scales in our favor when that final moment comes.
The criminal on the cross strips all of that away. He had nothing. He brought nothing. And Jesus gave him everything.
Because that’s what grace actually is. Not a reward for the nearly righteous. Not a recognition of spiritual effort. Not the last percentage point of a mostly-passing grade. Grace is what Jesus gives to a dying man with empty hands who simply turns his head and asks to be remembered.
We come to Jesus with our résumés. He’s looking for exactly what the criminal offered: honesty about who we are, recognition of who He is, and a simple request that dares to believe He might respond.
And here’s what this moment means for Week 4, for the resurrection we’re about to step into: the criminal on the cross didn’t just receive forgiveness. He received paradise. Today. With Jesus. The very day the disciples were hiding, the very day the women were weeping, the very day hope would be sealed behind a stone — a criminal with empty hands walked into paradise with the Savior.
He didn’t wait for Sunday morning. It was Friday, and paradise found for one man who had nothing to offer and everything to receive.
Whatever you’ve done. However long you’ve waited. However empty your hands feel right now. The promise Jesus made on that cross is still being spoken: Today. With Me. Paradise.
We were there on that hill — some days mocking, some days asking to be remembered. We are there now. And His answer hasn’t changed.
Grace Note
“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast.” — Ephesians 2:8-9 (NIV)
The criminal on the cross is the purest illustration of these verses in the entire Bible. No works. No track record. No time to build one. Just faith — imperfect, desperate, empty-handed faith — and the grace of a Savior who gave him paradise before the sun went down. That’s the gospel at its most undiluted: grace received by faith alone, with nothing to add and nothing withheld. What Jesus gave him, He gives to you.
Prayer Prompt
Jesus,
I confess that I come to You with clenched hands more often than open ones. I want to bring something — to earn what You’ve already freely given, to add my contribution to a salvation that needed nothing from me to be complete. Forgive me for the pride hiding underneath my effort. For the subtle belief that grace is for the desperate, and I’m not quite that far gone.
The criminal on the cross undoes all of that. He had nothing. He brought nothing. And You gave him paradise.
That’s what You offer me. Not because I’ve been faithful enough or failed minimally enough or finally gotten my act together. Because You are exactly who he recognized You to be — innocent, sovereign, and full of grace toward the ones who turn to You with nothing left to hold back.
I want to ask what he asked. Not for rescue on my terms. Not for the cross to come down or the circumstances to change. Just: remember me. See me. Let me be with You.
And I trust — the way he trusted, with everything already gone — that Your answer is the same one You gave him. Today. With You. Amen.
Response
1. Open Your Hands: The criminal came with nothing. Today, identify one thing you’ve been holding onto as if it contributes to your standing before God — your track record, your church attendance, your moral effort, your spiritual disciplines. These things have their place. But they are not the ground of your salvation. Spend five minutes in prayer with physically open hands, receiving what Jesus has already given rather than presenting what you’ve done.
2. Say the Simple Thing: The criminal’s prayer was simple: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Not elaborate. Not polished. Just honest and direct. Today, pray the simplest, most honest prayer you can — not the one that sounds right, but the one that’s actually true. Whatever is underneath the surface, say that. Jesus answered the criminal’s unpolished request with paradise. He’ll meet your honest words too.
3. Tell Someone Who Thinks They’ve Waited Too Long: The criminal came to Jesus in the final hours of his life. He is proof that there is no such thing as too late. Think of one person in your life who believes they’ve done too much, waited too long, or drifted too far to come back. Reach out to them today — not with a sermon, but with this story. A dying man. Empty hands. And the words “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
To read all the posts in this devotional series, visit: That First Easter... I Was There
© Steve Peschke / This Is The Way