Luke 23.35-43

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Last week we were in v. 26-38 of Luke’s gospel, in which we saw Jesus Christ, the Son of God, fully God and fully man, crucified by men he created. Often when we preach on the crucifixion of Christ, you get it all done in one nice, half-hour chunk: you come in, Christ is crucified, he dies, and he’s buried—so even if it’s not fun to listen to, it’s at least got some closure to it. You can leave and know that this part of the story is over.

I know it can seem kind of cruel to make you all sit in

We’re not doing it that way this time, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because (quite simply) there’s a lot to see here, and secondly, because we can forget that the death of Christ didn’t happen quickly. According to Mark’s gospel, Jesus was on the cross for six hours before he died.

We can’t even imagine this.

Have you ever had a meeting that lasted all day long? How long did that feel?

OK—that’s BOREDOM.

Jesus is experiencing just about the most excruciating pain a human being can experience, unable to breathe, every nerve ending on his body in agony. And at the same time he’s experiencing just about the most intense shame a human being can experience. All the while, bearing the wrath of God against our sins. The ordeal was horribly, brutally long.

OK, now imagine that what you’re feeling isn’t boredom, but just about the most excruciating pain a human being can experience. Nails in your hands, nails in your feet, you have to push up on your feet to breathe, but you can’t hold it for long because of the nails, so after a couple seconds you fall back down on the nails in your hands—not to mention the fact that the skin and muscle on your back and shoulders and sides have been almost completely ripped off by a Roman flogging.

On top of that, there is the brutal shame of being stripped naked and hanging there in front of your mother, in front of some people you probably recognized, and in front of people who are mocking you and taunting you to come down from the cross.

This ordeal was horribly long.

So we’re not going to rush through it. We’re going to stay with Jesus on the cross, today and next Sunday as well.

Now, today’s passage contains one of my favorite stories in the whole Bible. Not only do we see one of the greatest conversion stories in Scripture, in my opinion, but Luke juxtaposes different things that were happening at this time, to actually amplify the beauty of that conversion story. So we’re going to try to drill in a little bit and explore that juxtaposition.

So here’s what we’re going to see. Luke places right next to each other two different ideas of what it means to be saved. One is x

In v. 35-38, Luke shows us a false idea of what it means to be saved; and in v. 39-43, he shows us what it actually means to be saved.

Let’s read v. 35-38 first.

False Salvation (v. 35-38)

35 And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” 36 The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine 37 and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” 38 There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”

Now before we go further, we need to specify a couple things.

First of all, when the rulers and soldiers tell Jesus, “Save yourself!”, they of course don’t mean what Christians often mean when we say that God saved us. Just like in French or in English, the Greek word for “save” here is a kind of catch-all word that can mean a lot of different things in a lot of different contexts.

So every time you see that word “saved”, in any context, it’s always important to ask, “Saved from what?”

If you’re drowning at sea, and there’s a boat coming by, you yell, “Save me!” From what? From drowning.

If you’re stuck in a thorn bush, you yell, “Save me!” From what? From these thorns! You’re not going to die, but good grief, it’s painful.

If you’re struggling with self-hate and pain in your life, you pray to God, “Save me!” From what? From this difficult life you’re living, from the pain of not being who you want to be.

And so on.

All of these different contexts can be summarized the same way. When we say, “Save me,” we all mean the same thing: “Please give me what I need to live.”

Save = LIVE! Escape your suffering! Be yourself! Be fulfilled! Do what YOU want to do!

get into what this false idea of what it means to be saved looks like, let me explain something first.

Here’s the thing though.

Jesus Christ was a different story. He wasn’t made in the image of God; he is God.

Jesus Christ never has, and never will, need saving. Christ is different from every other human being who has ever lived, in two principal ways.

Firstly, while he is fully man, he is also fully God. 100% human, and 100% divine. God doesn’t need help from anyone. He is totally self-sufficient and self-sustaining; he is completely independent (if you remember back to our series on the attributes of God).

The second way Christ is different from every other human being is that throughout his entire life on this earth, he never once sinned. (He never once rebelled against God.) He was born with a human nature, just like ours, and yet he resisted temptation every single time temptation came. Which was more than likely very often.

The Bible only mentions Christ’s temptation by Satan in the desert, but because Christ is a human being, he was surrounded by temptation all the time, just like we are. We’ve all had the experience, when we’re tempted, of resisting, resisting, resisting…and then you arrive at a point where you’re just exhausted, and the fight is too much to bear (or so we think), so we give in just to make it stop.

Imagine how hard it must have been to be Christ—he resisted, resisted, resisted…and never gave in. Every temptation arrived at its maximum intensity for him, because he never stopped resisting. That alone should make us worship him.

The reason this is important is because in v. 35-38, we see the rulers of the Jews—the ones who stood before Pilate shouting for Christ’s crucifixion—and the soldiers mocking him. They’re taunting him. They’re saying, “If you’re the Christ, come down off that cross! If you’re the Christ, save yourself!”

Now of course when they said that, they didn’t mean what Christians often mean when they talk about saving—just like in English, the word in Greek here is a kind of catch-all word that can mean different things in different contexts.

And Jesus could have done it in an instant, with a mere thought.

Now of course the people mocking him didn’t believe this; they didn’t think he was the Christ; they thought he was a fraud. A very intelligent fraud, sure; a fraud with mysterious powers. But a fraud. So they didn’t know that when they said, “If you’re the Christ, save yourself,” they weren’t just mocking Christ; they were tempting him.

Because do we really think part of him—the real human being who was suffering on that cross—didn’t want to come down? Jesus often gets painted on the cross with a peaceful look on his face, as if none of this bothered him all that much. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was in agony, and he could have come down at any moment.

So how do you think he heard those words? “If you’re the Christ, come down off the cross.” “If you’re the Son of God, save yourself.”

Those were next-level temptations, because the human being in him absolutely wanted it to be over, and he could have done it.

Now, when we realize that, we can start to see that through their taunts, which Luke describes and repeats in detail, these men are unwittingly placing Jesus in front of a myriad of lies about what it means to be really and truly saved—which he knew were lies, of course, but which wouldn’t have sounded less appealing for that, given what he was going through.

These men are unwittingly placing Jesus in front of a myriad of lies about what it means to be really and truly saved.

They are setting before him different versions of what it looks like to be “saved”. They’ve put him in a situation in which if nothing changes, he will die. And then they dangle in front of him false ways in which he could “live.” We’ll come back to this in a little bit, but we need to understand that when they say, “Save yourself,” they’re mistaking what it means to be “saved.” They’re talking about living a better life now. But when the Bible talks about being saved, it means something radically different…something the second criminal on the cross next to Jesus understood.

First lie: being saved means escaping your suffering.

If you’re the Son of God, save yourself. Get down off that cross. Stop your pain. Stop your suffering.

This was the first lie put before Christ, and sadly, this is one of the most frequent lies modern Christianity places in front of us.

Modern Christianity will say, “Come to God, and he will make your life better.” Come to God, and he’ll make you rich. He’ll make you healthy. He’ll take away sickness. He’ll give you “favor” with other people.

A false idea of what it means to be saved: they tempt Christ in ways we are tempted all the time.

Probably the most well-known proponent of this false Christianity, Joel Osteen, actually tells a story in his book Your Best Life Now, in which he circled a parking lot, praying God would give him a parking space close to the main entrance. And you know what? God did it. Just as he was driving up, someone left their space by the entrance, and he got to park there.

Did you know that God wanted you to find a good parking space?

"I believe God, Jesus, died that we not just go to heaven but that we excel in this life… God wants you to excel. Just keep him in first place and God will open up doors you never dreamed of."

Escaping your suffering (come down off the cross)

I want to be as clear as humanly possible: that is not biblical Christianity. We don’t come to God for the things he can do for us, we come to God because he’s worthy of our life and our worship.

Now of course, God does bless us in our lives. God does heal. He does provide. He does protect. We see God’s healing and protection and provision all throughout Jesus’s ministry.

But those blessings are not guaranteed, nor are they the condition of our worship. In fact, one of the main blessings of the Christian life is not that God gives us everything we want, but rather that he teaches us to be content no matter what we have. This is what the apostle Paul says in :

11 Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. 12 I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

Verse 13 has been classically misused (by people like Joel Osteen) to say, “Because I am in Christ, I can get that promotion. I can beat that cancer. I can get rich. I can excel in my life.”

But I hope it’s clear from the context that that’s not what Paul’s talking about. The “all things” he can do is being happy whatever the situation. I can be happy when I have a full belly, of course; but I can be happy when I’m hungry, because I have Christ. I can be happy when I’m healthy; but I can also be happy when I’m sick, because I have Christ.”

Any gospel that draws you to Christ by dangling blessings in front of you, like a carrot on a stick, cannot save you, because it’s a false gospel.

Second lie: being saved means validating your identity.

Look again at what they say—they’re two versions of the same thing. V. 35:

“He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!”

V. 37:

“If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!”

Essentially, it comes down to an undefeatable challenge: “You say you’re the Christ? Prove it.”

Like we said before, the elders and the soldiers don’t think they’re issuing Jesus a challenge or a temptation; they don’t believe he’s the Christ or the King of the Jews, so they think they’re simply mocking him.

But imagine what must have run through Jesus’s mind while he listened to them. I AM the Christ. I AM the King of the Jews.

He is the Christ. He is the Chosen One of God, his chosen Messiah. He is the King of the Jews. He’s the King of the universe.

And he could have proved it. With a simple thought, he could have come down from that cross with a thousand legions of angels to reduce every one of these fools to ash. And his humanity surely would have found relief in doing just that.

Essentially, it comes down to a simple (and, they think, undefeatable) challenge: “You say you’re the Christ? Prove it. Convince us." Show us what you’re made of.

This challenge is also common to all of us. Except that we, unlike Christ, aren’t God. We aren’t divine. We aren’t without sin. So when we are faced with this false idea of salvation, we’re in a bit of a bind, because we don’t want to convince other people of what we are; we want to convince them we’re something better.

Of course the best example of this is probably Instagram. (I know I harp on Instagram a lot—full disclosure, I’m on Instagram too; you can relax. But it’s important to be aware of this side of it.)

The chief priests and soldiers think they’re mocking Jesus, but really they’re tempting him, because he IS the Christ, and he COULD save himself. All he had to do was think it.

Instagram is not built for people to show themselves as they are. Instagram exists to help you digitally remove the ugly from your life, at least from the eyes of others (that’s what those filters are for). We display curated versions of ourselves in the hopes that everyone else will think we’re better than we are.

But when this temptation is leveled at us, it is always aimed at getting us to convince others we’re something different than what we are.

We display curated versions of ourselves in the hopes that everyone else will think we’re better than we are.

Illustration: Instagram is not built so people can show themselves as they are. Instagram exists to help you digitally remove the ugly in your life (that’s what those filters are for). We post curated versions of ourselves in the hopes that everyone else will think we’re better than we are.

Why? Because deep down we hear these little imaginary voices saying, ‘If you’re beautiful, prove it. If you’re happy, prove it. If you’re good, prove it.’ And Instagram is just a tiny example of the fact that this plays itself out in all of our lives. In our jobs. In our friendships. In our relationships.

Why is this such a big deal? Because we find validation in what other people think of us. Especially in this culture of social media, what others think of us in large part determines what we think of ourselves. We’re convinced that if other people think we are beautiful we might actually find ourselves beautiful.

Our identity is determined by whatever we think other people think of us, rather than simply being validated by who God says we are.

Trying to live that lie is unbelievably exhausting and isolating, because if you let yourself get close to people, the mask will eventually fall, and they’ll see you as you actually are. They’ll know your Instagram and Facebook and Twitter feeds are a sham. They’ll know what we’re actually like.

And that scares us to death, because deep down we don’t truly believe we are who God says we are.

So Christ shows us how to do it. He takes our place on the receiving end of all these voices yelling at him to validate his identity, saying, “If you are the Christ, save yourself.” And even though he is the one person who actually is what no one thinks he is—he knows he is the Christ and knows he could save himself—he is so solid in his own identity as the Messiah that he doesn’t have to prove it. He doesn’t have to play their game. He knows who he is.

is so solid in his own identity as the Messiah that he can hear them shouting, “If you are the Christ, save yourself,” and know he is the Christ and know he could save himself, and he doesn’t have to do it. He doesn’t have to play their game. He knows who he is.

Only someone with an absolute stranglehold on his own unwavering identity could hear, “If you are the Christ, save yourself,” know he is the Christ and know he could save himself, and not have to do it.

So two lies so far: to be saved means escaping your suffering; to be saved means validating your identity.

Only a Christian with a God-given surety of his identity could hear the world begging to prove who he is, and not have to do it, because he knows who he is in Christ.

Third lie: being saved means doing something legitimate in an illegitimate way.

They tell him, “If you are the Christ, save yourself.”

If he had done that, he would have displayed his power and might in an undeniable way. He knew why he had come. He could look forward to the time when Paul would say that (Philippians 2.9-11):

God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

That’s his endgame. That’s his goal.

And of course, that goal is totally legitimate.

But if he had tried to get there by doing what they’re taunting him to do—by saving himself and coming down off the cross and making every person on that hill bow down before him and confess that he is Lord—he’d have achieved a legitimate goal in a totally illegitimate way. It would have meant not doing what he came to do.

Now obviously (we saw this last week) Jesus is on the cross for a reason, and the only thing keeping him there is his own will to stay there. But the reason why that was not easy is because he is fully human, so of course Jesus, in his humanity, wanted to get down! He wanted to live! He wanted this to stop!

And no one would ever say that that would be a bad thing, right? That’s what makes the crucifixion story so heartbreaking to read. We don’t want Jesus to die; we want him to miraculously come down from the cross; we want him to display his power over these wicked men.

That Jesus would live, and display his power and authority, are legitimate desires. But doing it would mean fulfilling these legitimate desires in an illegitimate way. It would mean not doing what he came to do.

He’s going to live, and he’s going to display his power and authority. But he’s got to go through death first.

Again, this “salvation” is offered to us nearly every day.

We have a lot of young professionals here. You love Jesus, you want to serve him in your jobs. And you’re not stuffy—you understand that making a decent paycheck can be hugely useful in the kingdom, because with those ressources you can serve the church and support missionaries and give to the poor.

So you make it your goal to progress in your job, and use the money you make for the good of the kingdom of God.

That’s a good goal. Completely legitimate.

But we live in a fallen world. So for some of you, achieving that goal may require you to take some shortcuts. To get there, you’ll have to be shady. You’ll have to fudge the numbers. You’ll have to take advantage of others’ weaknesses. You’ll have to get results by any means necessary, even if it means cheating a little.

Progressing in your job, to make money to use for the kingdom (good).

To get there, you’ll have to be shady. You’ll have to fudge the numbers. You’ll have to get results by any means necessary, even if it means cheating a little.

Christian moralism would invite people to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful—that’s good. Obedience to God’s commands is good.

But Christian moralism tells us that if we stop committing sinful acts, then God will approve of us; and if we don’t, he’ll reject us. Christian moralism tells us that God’s forgiving us and accepting us and keeping us is conditional—that if we want God to make good on his promises, we have to make good on ours.

There are a million other examples I could give, but you see my point. There are no shortcuts to glorifying God. We don’t get to cheat our way into the kingdom.

Moralism

That is completely the opposite of what the gospel tells us. No matter what our intentions are, we can’t stop sinning on our own. That’s not a battle we are ever going to be able to win alone.

Moralism would invite people to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful—that’s good.

But it tells us that if we stop doing these things, then God will approve of us; and if we don’t, he’ll reject us.

That is completely the opposite of what the gospel tells us. Because we can’t stop sinning on our own. That’s not a battle we are ever going to be able to win.

No—the gospel tells us that Christ defeated sin on the cross, that he comes and lives within us through his Holy Spirit. He gives us a new heart, he gives us new desires, and he causes us to keep God’s commandments.

So yes—we are absolutely called to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful. But we can only do it because Christ does it in us and for us and with us.

There are a million other examples I could give, but you see my point. There are no shortcuts to glorifying God. We don’t get to cheat our way into heaven.

And Jesus wasn’t about to cheat his way into being publicly validated as the Messiah.

It’s remarkable how similar what the elders and the soldiers say is to Satan’s temptation that Jesus throw himself off the temple roof in . Satan takes Jesus up to the temple roof and he tells him (in nearly identical language, ),

“If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10 for it is written,

“ ‘He will command his angels concerning you,

to guard you,’

11 and

“ ‘On their hands they will bear you up,

lest you strike your foot against a stone.’ ”

Have you ever wondered why Satan chose this tactic? It can seem strange to us, but it was a brilliant strategy. The temple was the center of social life in Jerusalem; hundreds of people were constantly gathered around it. So Satan is offering Jesus the chance to do what he came to do: to show the world that he is the Messiah, that he is who he says he is. Can you imagine? Jesus leaps off the roof, everyone sees him hurtling toward the ground, and then suddenly angels appear out of nowhere and swoop him up and put him down safely.

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

No one could argue with him after that. No one would doubt his identity.

The problem is, it’s a cheat. That’s not the way the Messiah was ever intended to prove his identity, or to glorify God. The Messiah would do that by going to the cross.

In essence, the mockery of the elders and the soldiers is the same thing. “If you are the Christ, save yourself.” That would settle it once and for all. No one would argue with him after that; no one would doubt his identity or question his teaching after that.

But here’s the problem, and it’s the problem of each of these lies we’ve seen: if Jesus did that—if he came down from the cross instead of dying—it wouldn’t be salvation. If he “saved himself” in this way, none of us could be saved, and he would not sit on the throne.

Jesus never came to be saved; he came to save.

So he takes it. He takes the mockery, he takes the shame. He takes this bombardment of ignorant lies about what it means to be saved.

Now that

And he does it to save us for real. Christ didn’t need saving; he’s on the cross because he chose to be there. We're the ones who need saving.

Remarkable how similar this is to Satan’s temptation for Jesus to throw himself off the temple roof.

So Jesus comes and he

But if being saved doesn’t mean escaping suffering, or proving we’re something we’re not, or gaining the blessings of life in Christ through illegitimate means, what does true salvation look like? What has to happen for us to be truly saved?

So what does that look like? What has to happen for us to be

True Salvation (v. 39-43)

This is not salvation. If he « saved himself » in this way, he’d lose everything. He didn’t come to BE saved, he came to SAVE.

Convincing others of your identity (“if he is the Christ, if you are the King of the Jews”)

being saved = being something different than you are

Trying to convince others you’re stronger, smarter, more fulfilled, happier, healthier, better than you are

Living this lie is the most exhausting thing imaginable.

How freeing is it to be able to be with someone and just be who you are?

Being saved = doing something legitimate (living) in an illegitimate way (coming down off the cross vs. resurrection).

Moralism would invite people to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful—that’s good.

But it tells us that if we stop doing these things, then God will approve of us; and if we don’t, he’ll reject us.

That is completely the opposite of what the gospel tells us. Because we can’t stop sinning on our own. That’s not a battle we are ever going to be able to win.

No—the gospel tells us that Christ defeated sin on the cross, that he comes and lives within us through his Holy Spirit, he gives us a new heart, he gives us new desires, he causes us to keep God’s commandments.

So yes—we are absolutely called to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful. But we can only do it because Christ does it in us and for us and with us.

The irony here is that Christ didn’t need “saving.” He’s on the cross because he chose to be there.

We need saving, and we try to be saved in these false ways all the time.

What would it look like to have a correct understanding of what it means to be saved?

It wasn’t their intention to tempt Jesus, but think how this would have hit him.

1.2:

convincing others of your identity

But when this temptation is leveled at us, it is always aimed at getting us to convince others we’re something different than what we are.

Why? Because deep down we hear these little imaginary voices saying, ‘If you’re beautiful, prove it. If you’re happy, prove it. If you’re good, prove it.’ And Instagram is just a tiny example of the fact that this plays itself out in ALL of our lives. In our jobs. In our friendships. In our relationships.

Why is this such a big deal? Because we find validation in what other people think of us. We’re convinced that if other people think we are beautiful we might actually find ourselves beautiful.

After a while bathing in this culture, we find that what others think of us determines what we think of ourselves. Our identity is determined by whatever we think THEY think of us, rather than by what God says we are.

Only someone with an absolute stranglehold on his own unwavering identity could hear, « if you are the Christ, save yourself, » KNOW he is the Christ and KNOW he could save himself, and NOT AVE TO DO IT.

Only someone with a God-given surety of his identity could hear the world begging to prove who he is, and not have to, because he knows he’s a child of God, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says.

1.3 legitimate illegitimate

Remarkable how similar this is to Satan’s temptation for Jesus to throw himself off the temple roof.

This is not salvation. If he « saved himself » in this way, he’d lose everything. He didn’t come to BE saved, he came to SAVE.

Escaping your suffering (come down off the cross)

being saved = God makes your life easier

Convincing others of your identity (“if he is the Christ, if you are the King of the Jews”)

Not dying

being saved = being something different than you are

Trying to convince others you’re stronger, smarter, more fulfilled, happier, healthier, better than you are

Living this lie is the most exhausting thing imaginable.

How freeing is it to be able to be with someone and just be who you are?

Being saved = doing something legitimate (living) in an illegitimate way (coming down off the cross vs. resurrection).

Moralism

Moralism would invite people to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful—that’s good.

But it tells us that if we stop doing these things, then God will approve of us; and if we don’t, he’ll reject us.

That is completely the opposite of what the gospel tells us. Because we can’t stop sinning on our own. That’s not a battle we are ever going to be able to win.

The

So yes—we are absolutely called to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful. But we can only do it because Christ does it in us and for us and with us.

The irony here is that Christ didn’t need “saving.” He’s on the cross because he chose to be there.

We need saving, and we try to be saved in these false ways all the time.

What would it look like to have a correct understanding of what it means to be saved?

39 One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

First things first, just to clear up a question several people have asked me: this guy gets saved.

Some people wonder if this guy has truly been converted, if he’s really been saved, or if he’s just grasping at straws to get some kind of hope at the end of his life.

No—this guy is genuinely, truly saved. Obviously, his faith was terribly immature—he didn’t have any time to grow in his faith or his knowledge of Christ—but it is no less legitimate for that. And we know it because Jesus tells him in v. 43, today you will be with me in paradise. Christian salvation is a lot more than going to heaven when we die (as we’ll see in a minute); but it’s not less than that.

So if we know this man has been truly saved, what does he do and say here to show us what that salvation looks like?

Firstly, he’s come to terms with his own guilt and suffering. This is the opposite of the lie that says to be saved is to prove you’re something you’re not.

He tells the other criminal on the cross next to Jesus (v. 41):

[We are condemned] justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds.

And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds

In other words, he understands that he has rebelled against God, and that he deserves this.

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

Now some Christians will be tempted to take what I’ve just said and run with it, thinking, I’m suffering now because God’s punishing me for some sin I’ve committed.

Please realize that if you think that, you are doing a disservice to Christ’s work on the cross for you. Christ bore that sin on the cross, 100%, and God doesn’t punish the same sin twice; he is just.

So I never want to give Christians the idea that their suffering is somehow punishment for their sin, and I don’t want to kick anyone when they’re down. But on the whole, I think most of us need to learn to relativize a little better.

This criminal looks at what he’s suffering on the cross and thinks, That’s fair.

The Death of Jesus

A correct understanding of what it means to be saved:

A common question people ask when they’re suffering is, “What have I done to deserve this?”

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

He’s come to terms with his own guilt and suffering.

The answer to that question is always very easy: you’ve sinned against a holy God. I’m not talking about any one sin in particular; I’m talking about your sinful nature. We have all rebelled against a holy God, and are deserving of eternal punishment for that sin.

I am a sinner. I deserve this.

And not because of any one sin in particular, but because of our sinful nature. We have all rebelled against a holy God, and are deserving of eternal punishment for that sin.

So if you are in Christ, is your suffering somehow punishment for your sin? Absolutely not.

Do you deserve it? Absolutely you do. All of us do.

I don’t want to beat anyone when they’re down. And I never want to give Christians the idea that their suffering is somehow punishment for their sin. (Christ bore that sin 100% on the cross, and God doesn’t punish the same sin twice.)

Clearly this guy has understood—or at least experienced that—a little, because he’s no longer insulting Jesus, but rather recognizing his own guilt, that his suffering is what h

No matter how intense our suffering is, it is far lighter than what our sin actually deserves.

This man has come to terms with that reality. He’s come to terms with his own sin, and what that sin deserves.

But on the whole, I think most of us need to learn to relativize a little better.

Next, he’s come to terms with his own impending death. This is the opposite of the lie that says to be saved is to escape suffering.

This man knows he’s going to die, and he doesn’t seek to escape it.

Common question when we’re suffering: “What have I done to deserve this?”

The other criminal does, mockingly, like the elders and the soldiers. He says the same thing: “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

But our man doesn’t do that, even though clearly he believes that Jesus probably could take them down if he wanted to. He doesn’t ask Jesus to end his suffering. He knows he’s going to die, and he doesn’t seek to escape it.

Why is this such an important realization?

Because it shows us that this man understands that the real threat here isn’t his suffering or death; it’s what comes after. It reminds us that we don’t ultimately need to be saved from suffering or death, but from the consequences of our rebellion against God.

Because it reminds us that we need to be saved from the consequences of our rebellion against God, both generally and specifically.

We live in a fallen world, a world that has been broken because of sin. We suffer the effects of it every day—we get sick, we get old, we die. The effects of sin will be all around us for the rest of our life, unless Christ returns first. Since January I’ve been to two funerals: my grandmother’s funeral, and the funeral of a dear friend who died young, at age 55, just last week.

We’re going to die. We’re going to lose others. We’re going to get sick. Things like the coronavirus aren’t going to stop this side of glory. That’s what happens in a fallen world.

We will see death and decay surround us, wherever we go, because the world is broken, and it is broken because of sin.

Creation needs to be saved from that.

No one has ever sinned against God in quite the same way I have sinned against God, because I’m the only me who has ever lived. No one has ever sinned against God quite like you haven because you’re unique too. Our sin is profoundly personal, because we are unique individuals.

That is not what we need to be saved from. One day, Christ will return and renew creation—he will save the earth from its brokenness—but our need is far deeper than that.

We need to be saved from the wrath of God against our sin. We have all, without exception, rebelled against a perfectly holy and eternal God, and because of that rebellion, we deserve punishment. That is the only fitting response to sin.

And this man realizes it. He admits that he’s getting what he deserves. Which is what drives him to his final request, the final way he shows us the legitimacy of his salvation.

The answer: sin. Not one sin, all of it—no matter how intense our suffering is, it is far lighter than what our sin actually deserves.

“I’m not in hell, so it’s a good day.”

He’s come to terms with his own death.

He knows he’s going to die, and doesn’t seek to escape it.

He seeks something better than escaping suffering and death.

We live in a fallen world, so the effects of that fall will be all around me for the rest of my life, unless Christ returns first.

We are going to die. We are going to lose others. We will see death and decay surrounding us, wherever we go, because sin has fractured this world.

He recognizes that Christ

He seeks something better than escaping suffering and death, after those things are past.

He says to Jesus in v. 42,

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

In this one request, this ignorant criminal on the cross next to Christ sweeps away every lie that the rulers and the soldiers and the other criminal had thrown at Jesus.

Being saved, truly being saved, doesn’t mean escaping our suffering in this life, but receiving eternal life in Christ, forever, where there will be no suffering, no sickness, no death, no tears.

Do you ever wonder how the apostle Paul could be so sanguin in the midst of everything he was suffering for the gospel? How he could be stoned and left for dead, then get up, brush himself off and go back to preaching the gospel? How he could say that he rejoices in his sufferings, that he will boast all the more gladly of his weaknesses?

He could do that because he knew what was coming.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Being saved doesn’t mean escaping our suffering in this life, but looking forward to the glory that waits for us in the next.

Secondly: being truly saved doesn’t mean validating your identity, proving you are what you want to be, but finding your identity in Christ alone.

Notice, this man asks Jesus to remember him. He doesn’t introduce himself. He doesn’t show him a CV and try to convince him he’s worth being remembered. Implicit in his request is the belief that Christ knows who this man is, and will continue to know him, even after his death.

Being truly saved means knowing that you are what GOD says you are, and knowing it so well that you don’t need to be anything else.

We are sons and daughters of God, brought into his family by our big Brother Jesus; so we are free to be who we are today.

Now I know that can sound a little too good to be true for many of us. “Really? Be who I am today? But I’m a mess. I feel like I can count my victories in Christ on one hand, and every day I can’t even keep track of my own sins.”

Yeah—welcome to the club.

We’re all a mess. Knowing we are sons and daughters of God doesn’t mean we are free to stay where we are. But wherever we happen to land on the spiritual maturity scale doesn’t change one bit the fact that we are now his sons and daughters.

Of course we shouldn’t be content to stay where we are. But wherever we happen to land on the spiritual maturity scale doesn’t change one bit the fact that we are now his sons and daughters.

So we are messed up, sure. We’re in progress, sure. We’re growing in him, sure.

But we’re his. Now and forever. So we can rest in that.

Lastly: being saved doesn’t mean doing pursuing legitimate goals in an illegitimate way. Being truly saved means knowing there is a kingdom.

Messed up, sure. In progress, sure. But his.

“Remember me...”

being saved = receiving eternal life in Christ, forever.

Our friend says, Remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Our suffering isn’t worth being compared with the glory to be revealed to us.

being saved = finding our identity in Christ

Implicit in his request is that Christ knows who this man is, and will continue to know him, even after his death.

And he doesn’t seek to enter the kingdom by shortcut or by cheat. He seeks to enter the kingdom simply by recognizing who he is, recognizing what he deserves, and throwing himself upon the mercy of the One who has the power to save him.

We are sons and daughters of God, brought into his family by our big Brother Jesus; so we are free to be who we are. Messed up, sure. In progress, sure. But his.

So for all intents and purposes, this man is living the rest of his life on the cross, but knowing there’s a kingdom.

This is what we saw last week. Christ took up his throne through dying on the cross, in order to show us that we are his people, called to take up our cross and follow him into the kingdom.

We live on the cross too. We are called to die to ourselves every minute of every day. To give up things the world thinks we can’t live without.

And we can do it, because we know there’s a kingdom. We know that real isn’t found in our jobs or our families or our pastimes, but in the kingdom.

___

Now here’s the difficult reality we have to face. This man, like many of us, only came to this realization when he was literally stripped of everything else. Everything he had lived for up to this point was gone. He had nothing else. He had no possessions anymore; he had no ambitions; he didn’t have any clothes. He had nothing left but a broken body and eyes to see the crucified King next to him.

Living on the cross and knowing there’s a kingdom

So here’s the question.

How will “living on the cross,” but knowing there’s a kingdom, change us? What will it do to our lives today, on this side of paradise? If we know where we are, and we know where we’re going, how will that change us?

Being saved = knowing there is a kingdom

How will “living on the cross”, but knowing there is a kingdom, change us?

Repentance (thief) - admission of guilt, asking for help

Firstly. We will find our joy, not in the removal of our pain, but in the hope of glory.

He didn’t have time to put this into practice, but Christ makes it clear that this man’s conversion was legitimate. So if he had lived, what would his life have looked like?

We will put our sin to death…

At the risk of exaggerating the case, 90% of the products which attract us are designed to help us forget the pain around us. Beauty products, fashion, entertainment, medicine, fast food, technology… Most of the stuff with which we fill up our lives are there for one main reason: to help us ignore the fact that we live in a broken world.

The gospel tells us that Christ defeated sin on the cross, that he comes and lives within us through his Holy Spirit, he gives us a new heart, he gives us new desires, he causes us to keep God’s commandments.

We will find our joy, not in the removal of our pain, but in the hope of glory.

And yes, there’s pleasure in these things, but far too often they’re broken pleasures of this broken world, pleasures which

So yes—we are absolutely called to stop doing things the Bible says are sinful. But we can only do it because Christ does it in us and for us and with us.

Not in the paltry pleasures of today.

For that joy, we will put our sin to death. (Moses - Hebrews)

For that joy, we will put our sin to death.

We’ll grow to hate sin, because sin is what caused every pain we’ve ever experienced.

We’ll recognize that there is a greater treasure, and we’ll pursue it.

We will grow in our love for our King.

You may not realize this (or believe it), but obeying God’s commands, rather than causing you to resent him, will actually cause you to love him more.

We will see his goodness not despite our suffering, but in our suffering and through it. And when we don’t see it, we’ll know it’s there anyway, because we’ll have had the experience, time and again, of his goodness in a million unexpected places.