Remember Me

      It might be important and maybe even necessary for us to look very closely during our Lenten journey at a somewhat obscure example of faith at work. Last week we talked about the gift of faith in terms of allowing us to forgive repeatedly, to be faithful in relationships with others, faithful in service, and faithful in loving God. As it is used, our faith will increase.

      So now, we find ourselves deep in Lent, opening our very souls to the divine gaze of our God, confessing who we really are, and longing to be who God intends for us to be. Perhaps while we are doing all this searching and exposing, it might be beneficial for us to take a long look at the cross. After all, the cross is in reality where our journey begins.

      As our journey takes us back to that crucifixion site, we actually see the three crosses on which hang three men suffering the agony and horror of a slow suffocating death. On that day, the cross in the middle turned from a symbol of shame and reproach to a symbol of faith because of one man. Who was the first who looked at the cross and believed? Who was the first to make the cross a symbol of faith? Was it one of the disciples? Maybe Peter or John? Or one of those hundreds of people who were healed by Jesus? Or perhaps it was one of the women standing at Jesus’ cross that afternoon.

      But it was none of these. Faith not only showed itself at the most unlikely place, the site of an execution, but it showed itself in the most unlikely person; a dying thief, a seemingly hopeless sinner, apparently about as far from God as anyone could possibly be. We are not told much about this man, but there he was hanging and suffocating in terrible pain, a wasted life with no hope. Ironically, he found himself dying next to Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life! As he died, he turned his head to Jesus, author and finisher of our faith, and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus immediately replied, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

      What happened to this thief between the time he was mocking Jesus along with the crowd and the hour he defended him and prayed for forgiveness? What moved him from scorn to belief? Was it the suffering he saw in Jesus? If so, he should have been equally affected by the pain in the other thief, or even his own pain. Pity is not likely to cause someone to call another person a king. Even if he had heard testimonies about Jesus as Messiah as he hung there on the cross, and had been moved by pity, there would still have been too far a distance between his sin and forgiveness. He could not have bridged the gap on testimonies and pity. It could only have been bridged by the power called faith.

      The thief looked at someone who seemed hardly human at all and said, “Remember me when you are King.” Not if you are King, but when you are King. He knew Jesus was going to win. I am totally astonished by this scene. What a leap in the dark, what a leap of faith! Within that gift of grace comes a child-like faith that makes a leap of repentance. We recognize today that we have no less of a need for transformation than did the thief on the cross. Maybe this is the essence of our Lenten journey.

       Have we realized our need for forgiveness and change; that hope comes from outside and beyond ourselves? Do we acknowledge how much we are worth to Jesus; that he wants to take us from where we are to where he knows we can be? How do we look at Jesus? Is he our Lord, Savior, and the King of our lives? Are we willing to turn to Jesus and say, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom?”

 

Rev Tim McConnell Long’s Chapel UMC March 10, 2013