To me, it's the most incomprehensibly loving conversation ever.
Jesus, the savior of the world, a man who'd spent his entire life healing and offering love and light on one side, and next to him a bandit, a man who had spent most of his life plundering victims, leaving behind a shadow of darkness everywhere he went. Two men, hanging side by side on crosses, both of them fighting for their last breaths, yet both willing to expend a portion of those breaths for one of the most loving conversations in history. For Jesus, it was the last of many he'd experienced in his life to this point. For the bandit, maybe it was the only loving conversation of his life? As Jesus is dying on the cross, the crowds are mocking him. The bandit and his criminal friend on the other side of Jesus are among the mockers. Maybe Jesus hears them loudest. But the bandit is the one among all of the mockers who stops and reverses course. Why? Why does he reverse course? I have no idea, really. Maybe he heard Jesus publicly ask God to forgive all of his killers and mockers. Maybe he saw the inscription above the cross declaring Jesus the king of Jews. Maybe he was simply overwhelmed by the humble innocence of a man dying between two notoriously loud mouth and evil criminals. I have no idea why, but the bandit did reverse course, he told his criminal friend to shut up, and then said to Jesus, "remember me when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus replied, "I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise." Those are three powerful words in Jesus' response: I assure you. Are there three more loving words than: I assure you? Remember, this is a dying man fighting for the strength to offer any word at all. Yet, instead of simply saying you will be with me, he adds, I assure you. I think Jesus knew just how hard it would be for the bandit to believe anyone could ever love him. Especially the king. Maybe a simple king would have said, you will be with me. But it was the friend in Jesus, his loving nature, his empathetic heart, the savior that said, I assure you. For many, the cross signifies an answer: yes, death can be overcome. But maybe Jesus was also using the cross to ask me a question? Can you be a friend to the broken? Can you turn to the lost and the hurting and the incarcerated and those who may be mocking you at every turn. Can you turn to them when they come looking for hope, and point them to it? Can you be it? Can you climb up on a cross to be close enough to the broken for the simple chance to inspire the desire within them to reverse course? Was the most loving part of Jesus' conversation the lengths he was willing to go to have it? Was the conversation between Jesus and the bandit an answer to the bandit's prayer, yet at the same time an invitation for me to say one? Jesus was born among animals and died among criminals. In between he was always a friend of the broken. Am I? Good Friday opens the door to the greatest answer in this Christian's life beyond this world. But maybe Good Friday is also asking this Christian some very important questions about my life in this world. Good Friday answers a very important question about death. Maybe as important, though, it's inviting me to explore how I'm doing my living.
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Robert "Keith" CartwrightI am a friend of God, a dad, a runner who never wins, but is always searching for beauty in the race. Archives
May 2024
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