Tag Archives: Luke 23

A Simple Step

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Luke 23:42 (NIV)

The call came from the hospital — which was odd.

A nurse who worked in the Intensive Care Unit had a patient asking to see me — immediately.

I didn’t know the older gentleman particularly well. I’d had no more than two conversations with him and his wife. Pleasantries. Casual stories. Nothing serious. I hadn’t spoken with them for a couple of years. I hadn’t even been aware that they’d moved out of their life-long residence into a small apartment across from the hospital.

I barely knew them.

As soon as I walked into the ICU and took one look — I knew.

The man was lying on his death bed.

I greeted him warmly — giving him a smile. Fear was in his eyes.

I wasted no time.

“You’re going to die. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Are you afraid about what’s going to happen when you die?”

Another nod.

I briefly shared Jesus’ promises of eternal life for anyone who believes — and asked if he’d like me to lead him in a prayer of belief.

A third nod.

By the time we were done with the short prayer, tears were streaming down his face.

“You have to tell my wife,” he said. “Tell her I prayed to receive Jesus in my heart. Tell her she needs to pray, too.”

I agreed that I would.

“Now!” He insisted. “Go right now! Our apartment is across the street. Go there. Don’t wait.”

I walked across the street to the apartment number he gave me.

I shared exactly what had happened. I asked her if she wanted to pray like her husband had. She said she did. I led her in a similar short prayer of faith, and then I left.

The man died that evening.

His wife was discovered dead in their apartment the following morning.

I didn’t really didn’t know their story. I presume, given their ages, that they knew about Jesus. As death drew near they realized something unsettling — They knew about Jesus, but they didn’t know Him.

In today’s chapter, Jesus is crucified.

It was the most brutal, humiliating form of execution.

Some victims of crucifixion suffered for days before dying.

Hanging there between heaven and earth affords time for conversation.

Luke describes the conversation between Jesus and the two thieves crucified on either side of Him. As I read the episode this morning, it felt like one of Jesus’ parables come to life.

“Once, there were two thieves crucified for their crimes…”

One had gone all-in to the angry bitterness in his heart.

The other asked Jesus, “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

I spent some time meditating this morning on this simple request.

Somewhere — somehow — he knew enough to ask.

He’d watched Jesus being railroaded by the system.

He saw the simple truth of what was happening.

“I deserve this — but not Him.”

His simple request was an example of Jesus’ proverbial mustard seed of faith.

Small.
Barely there.
But alive.

“I’m guilty for what I’ve done.”
“I deserve to die.”
“But Him? He’s going to His eternal Kingdom.”
“Jesus? Think of me.”

And, in the quiet this morning, it made me think of that call from the hospital. A man and woman who knew about Jesus their entire lives.

Until death came knocking.

Faith is a simple step.

But it’s a step every person has to make for themselves — or not.

Once, there were two thieves
Nailed to the cross for their crimes.
One died as he’d lived.
The other… took a single step.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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A Bit Part

A Bit Part (CaD LK 23) Wayfarer

Then [the criminal crucified next to Jesus] said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Luke 23:42 (NIV)

When I was young and involved in theatre, like most people I always wanted the starring roles. I’ve been blessed to have gotten lead roles in a number of great shows. As I studied theatre and began to direct shows myself, I was always struck by individuals at auditions who made it clear that if they didn’t get the lead role, they didn’t want to be in the show. As time went on, I found this sentiment increasingly sad.

The more time I spent on stage, the more I began to realize the joy of playing a “bit” part. It requires less time learning lines, which provides more time for playing with the lines, developing the character, and experimenting with the role. I’ve always loved the process of character development. Even with small roles of only a few lines I will do an entire character study and develop a full back story for the character in order to bring that character to life for the audience. There’s a ton of fun to be had in crafting a bit character who “steals the show.” I think the best role, by far, in Hamilton is King George. He’s only on stage for a few brief moments, but he’s stolen the show every time I’ve seen it.

As I read through the Great Story, I find that my theatre experiences lead me to contemplate those who have bit parts in the narrative. In today’s chapter, Jesus is tried, sentenced, crucified, dies, and is buried. There are a host of bit players in the event. There’s the terrorist and murderer who is pardoned instead of Jesus, who had done nothing wrong. There’s the foreigner traveling to Jerusalem who is forced to carry Jesus’ cross. Luke twice references the women who had traveled with Jesus all the way from Galilee and had the courage to witness the crucifixion while most all the male disciples were hiding in fear. And, there’s Joseph, a member of the ruling council who conspired to have Jesus killed now asking for the body of Jesus and placing it in his own tomb.

All of these bit characters have a story to tell, and I can only imagine how compelling those stories might be as they unpacked the events that led them to be there at that moment on that day. I wonder how the events of that day may have changed their lives.

Of all these bit characters, it was the thief crucified next to Jesus who commanded my attention as I meditated on the chapter in the quiet this morning. First, I found it fascinating that he knew enough about Jesus to be convinced of Jesus’ innocence, and he seemed to know what Jesus taught. Was he among the curious crowds who gathered to listen to Jesus in the Temple earlier in the week? Was he convicted of his own blaring mistakes and poor life choices as he listened?

I also found it fascinating that the thief knew Jesus’ teaching enough to acknowledge that Jesus was a King with a Kingdom. Did he overhear Jesus’ conversation with Pilate when Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world”? At what point did the thief decide that Jesus was exactly who He said He was?

Finally, I love that the thief owns his own sins and the painful consequences he is experiencing. Shakespeare’s tragic thieving character, Bardolph, comes to mind when he says to Prince Harry, “When thou art King, don’t hang a thief!” The thief on the cross has no such hopes of escaping with a royal pardon. With the eyes of his spirit, the condemned man sees with perfect clarity what is happening at this moment. He and the angry criminal hanging on the other side of Jesus are getting what they deserve. They committed their crimes and they are paying for it. With the same clarity, he sees that Jesus is an innocent man suffering like a lamb being slaughtered.

At that moment, the nameless thief has one request: “Remember me.”

There is something I find so purely humble and gut-wrenching honest in this ask. He accepts his fate and embraces the certainty that he deserves the eternal punishment to which he knows he is headed. I’m reminded of Jesus’ parable of the rich man and the poor beggar Lazarus. The rich man languishes in Hades and looks across the spiritual chasm to see Lazarus in heaven. This is the reality the thief fully expects. He will be in eternal anguish as across the great spiritual divide Jesus takes up His throne in His eternal Kingdom. He accepts this fate.

“Please. Just think of me. That’s all I ask.”

How magnificent, how beautiful, that in this grand, climactic, spiritual moment in the history of all creation, one undeserved, poor thief finds a mustard seed of faith and the grace that flows freely from it.

When, as an actor, I make an entrance to play a bit character on stage, I am that person in that moment. In the quiet this morning, I find myself similarly hanging on my cross next to Jesus. I know my sins. I know what I deserve. I know that Jesus does not deserve what I deserve. In the quiet, it is my soul whispering, “Remember me.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Execution Lessons

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Luke 23:42 (NIV)

Just last week I read a news blurb of a convict who was executed. It was your typical news flash on such stories in which just the basic facts were starkly recounted with little embellishment. Years ago, he was convicted of murdering his own wife. Before he died he expressed regret for what he’d done. He apologized to his loved ones, acknowledging the he understood why they couldn’t forgive him, but expressing the hope that they might someday be able to do so. He then said that he couldn’t wait to meet Jesus. He was given a lethal injection and died a few minutes later.

Fascinating. For some reason, I’ve found those few lines of news unusually coming to mind in the days since I read it. There’s more to that story.

Today’s chapter is Dr. Luke’s account of Jesus’ execution. Much like the news blurb, it recounts many facts with little embellishment. What embellishments Luke adds create more questions in me than answers.

With the eye of a playwright and storyteller, I find myself making a mental list of the characters in the story and how they contribute to the narrative.

Jesus, the lamb led to slaughter, refusing to speak or offer a defense.

Pilate, Herod, and the Jewish religious leaders are the power brokers playing their own chess matches of personal power, public opinion, and political intrigue.

Jesus twelve appointed male disciples and heirs to His earthly ministry are the key characters not present (John was there, according to his own account, but Luke does not record this).

The oft forgotten women who have traveled with Jesus, supported Jesus, and provided for Jesus and his disciples are there at a distance, witnessing the execution. This includes Jesus’ mother. One of the women is, ironically, the wife of the head of Herod’s household.

The Roman soldiers are carrying out their duty and having their sport with the victims. As an added perk they get their choice of the victims’ spoils.

The presiding military officer, a Centurion, is observing.

Then there are the three executed convicts.

What struck me was the convict who was crucified next to Jesus and came to Jesus’ defense. The only character in the entire saga of the passion who comes to Jesus’ defense is a convicted, guilty (by his own confession) death-row inmate. “Remember me when you come into your kingdom,” he said.

How did he know about Jesus’ kingdom?

There’s more to this story.

Had he been among the crowds in Galilee, or in the temple courts, who heard Jesus teach? Had he and Jesus spent time talking in a holding cell as they waited to hear the Roman soldier announce “Dead man walking.”

I find so much intriguing about this man. Jesus didn’t explain the Four Spiritual Laws and lead the man in the sinner’s prayer. Jesus only defense was to one of the weakest and least powerful characters in the story, an executed criminal by another executed criminal. The only act in this man’s “death-bed conversion” was simply to acknowledge Jesus before another convict, and humbly ask to be remembered.

In the quiet this morning I find myself thinking about the spoken faith of two guilty, convicted, executed criminals. I find myself thinking about my own guilt. I find myself thinking about Jesus’ repeated teachings about simple, small faith being all that is required. It is indicated from the story that this is true no matter the moral standing of the one expressing such simple faith.

Sometimes I think that we religious humans complicate things that Jesus presented as very simple.

Featured photo on today’s post courtesy of PWBaker via Flickr.

Chapter-a-Day Luke 23

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The Temple curtain split right down the middle. Luke 23:45 (MSG)

Torn. Ripped. Split asunder.

There are so many things that were ripped apart that day. Jesus’ flesh was torn with the soldier’s scourge. His face ripped with long Judean thorns. His body ripped through with nails. His heart torn with a Roman spear.

Then, the Son was ripped from the Father. Carrying the sin of the world, the beloved son became an anathema. The Father turned away from his own. Sin split asunder the unity between God the Father and God the Son. Jesus died alone and isolated. Because of my sin.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

At the same time, the curtain of the temple was torn apart. The temple curtain separated the “Holiest Place” where God dwelt in the temple apart from sinful man on the outside. But with Jesus carrying the sin of the world and paying the penalty for our sin, the gap between God and man was bridged. God himself bore our sins. God himself made a way for us to enter his presence. The curtain of sin that separated us was torn asunder. Jesus paid the price. Jesus separated himself from the Father so that we could be united with the Father. Jesus paved the way for us to enter God’s presence.

That’s why the angels sang:

“Glory to God in the highest.
And on Earth: peace. Goodwill to men.”

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