Looking Up to My Saviour: A Perspective of the Good Thief

by Bro. RJ Rivera

Reading of the Day: Luke 23:26-43

What am I doing here? This was not part of the plan.

Not one part of my body can find relief. My back, stinging– wounds, still fresh, clinging to splintered wood, where the tiniest movement would peel my tender flesh. How many times did they whip my body, thirty times? Who knew the gentle breeze, whose cool whisper I once welcomed in the sweltering heat, would now be searing torture on my flayed skin?

My hands are surprisingly hanging on. These rusty nails driven into my wrists are the only things holding up the heft of my body.

I know this was my crime to pay, but if things had gone my way, I would not have gotten caught stealing. How did this even happen?

A rabble of onlookers decided that they would all come to see the three of us get crucified. Insults hurled, shouts filled with hatred– the worst day of my life made even more insufferable. I’m already dying for my crimes, I don’t need any more humiliation on top of it.

But amidst the cacophony of the Israelites around me were words I would never imagine coming from a fellow criminal.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Forgiveness.

This man must be out of his mind, extending forgiveness, when he’s the criminal.

With what little strength I had left in my body, I looked in his direction and noticed a crudely made sign affixed to the top of his cross.

Jesus of Nazareth, King of Jews

Jesus? If I recall correctly, he was that man who performed miracles all over the country. Turning water into fine wine? I would have loved to be there. Feeding 5000 men with a handful of loaves and fish? Healing the blind and the sick? I was in town when I heard about some of these improbable events. But instead of trying to see these miracles as they’re performed, I was too busy with my work, dissatisfied with mere petty thievery. I guess regret does only occur when it’s too late.

I’ve only heard about him causing trouble by openly rebuking Pharisees. I never liked them anyway, with their pompous, inflated pride on how strictly they follow the laws. So what, if they were offended? That doesn’t make this man a criminal! Some people would even go as far as calling him their SAVIOUR.

It’s almost laughable. Here I am, waiting for death, looking at a fellow criminal, hoping for some kind of salvation.

Salvation.

I don’t deserve it, yet, why do I yearn for it? And why does my heart cry out for this Messiah to save me, when it’s clear he will suffer the fate as mine?

Can I really be forgiven of my sins? Can this Messiah really save me from this life of regret?

“Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”, a boorish voice contemptuously demanded from the direction past Jesus. The other thief had little energy left in him, yet, he chose to disrespect the Messiah.

I groaned with every ounce of my being in response, “Don’t you fear God, since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”, A part of me could not believe the word I’ve just spoken. But I know, deep in my heart, despite his frail frame, I am looking up toward my SAVIOUR.

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” If these are the last words I speak before my death, let it be so. For if there’s anyone that can save me, it’s Jesus.

Salvation.

I’m a criminal. I know I don’t deserve it. But I guess desperation will make you do uncharacteristic things. I wasn’t expecting an answer from him, for he was treated much worse than we were, who were actual criminals.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”, my saviour responds.

I can only imagine how beautiful this so-called paradise must be. At this point, I know I’ve reached my end. My sad, sinful existence, overwritten with a promise of a place of rest. Now, my mind is only filled with what I think paradise would be.

One thing I know for certain: paradise is where I will be with my saviour.

Thank you, Jesus, for saving me.

Reflection: Who’s your favourite character in the Lenten story and why?