The last Sunday in the church year takes us, today, to Good Friday, and to the crucifixion. It seems fitting, somehow, to end the Christian calendar with the death of Christ, who is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. As we hear Luke’s perspective on it, we see various voices add insult to injury, though Jesus answers only with words of forgiveness. And then the scene climaxes with a beautiful word – a promise of paradise.
Consider all the injuries and suffering Christ endured. He was arrested as a common criminal, by men armed with swords and clubs. He was bound and imprisoned. Beatings along the way at the hands of the soldiers, both before the Sanhedrin and before Pilate. Scourging, a brutal whipping with lash after lash.
The utter humiliation of being tried in the kangaroo courts of sinful men, the righteous judge of the universe himself. The king of kings, submitting to the rulers of this world.
His friends had largely deserted him. His chief disciple had denied him. One of them even betrayed him for a bag of coins. And the fact that his mother and the other women were there, watching helplessly, must have only intensified the bitterness.
But now we read also of the mockery. It’s not enough to put him to death. It’s not enough to be rid of this troublemaker, in their minds. But their wickedness shows its true ugly nature in the dancing on his grave, reveling in his downfall.
The crowds follow him from Pilate to the cross, and though some women mourn him, it seems many are just lined up for the show. The people stand by, watching, how many of these joined their voices to the chorus of, “crucify! crucify!” Meanwhile their rulers scoffed, “he saved others, let him save himself!”. The soldiers mock him and dare him to save himself. The sign above his cross mocks him in a snide and satirical announcement, “this is the king of the Jews”. And even those crucified with him, at least the one, joins the choir of insults hurled at Jesus.
This mockery of Christ. It is blasphemous. It is wicked and rebellious. And it is very, very personal. Not only did it increase the bitterness of his suffering, but it is a window into the sinful heart of man.
Good Friday reveals this truth that is so often obscured in our everyday lives: the ugliness of our sin. Both our corrupt nature, and the sins that flow from it – they are, well, ugly as sin.
When you sin, it's not just an innocent mistake. Sin isn’t a harmless misstep or some laughable foolishness. There he goes again, sinning, aw shucks!
No. Sin destroys and harms and kills and laughs in glee all the while. There is a darkness in the human heart, and it rears its ugliness in the thoughts and words and actions that rebel against God with a venom we are loathe to admit. But each and every sin is another shaking of our fist at God and spitting at him in vile hatred.
Don’t look at the mockers of Good Friday and feel righteous in comparison to them, but rather find yourself amidst that crowd, among those rulers, and even hanging on one of those crosses. Your old Adam or mine wouldn’t fare any better. Your sin and mine is just as offensive and ugly, and mocks God the same.
But there, in the midst of all of this, is Jesus, whose words couldn’t be more different. They drive the nails into him, and he prays to the Father for forgiveness, not just for those soldiers, not just for all the mockers, but for you and me.
The forgiveness of the Father is the very point of his work, his life, and his death this day. The forgiveness for all of our sin, all of our rebellion and mockery, even the very nails that pierced his hands and feet. Every sin is a personal offence against God, and Jesus’ forgiveness is even more stark and personal and beautiful than sin is ugly.
That forgiveness he dies to procure is still spoken in his word of absolution, in the promises of Baptism, and in the gifts of his Holy Communion. Though sinners keep sinning, his grace continues to flow from pulpit and font and altar. And this forgiveness is for you. These gifts are for you.
And in the cacophony of curses that rose against him that day, there was yet one weak voice of a poor condemned man that faced a well-deserved death of his own. “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.” This repentant thief (who Matthew and Mark indicate also began by reviling Jesus), now has a change of heart. He turns to Jesus for remembrance, for mercy, praying with his last breaths and acknowledging Jesus as king after all.
This is the voice of faith. This is your voice, too, dear Christian. The thief on the cross is a picture of all of us. A checkered past. Offenses against God and man on our record. Facing death, the due reward of our deeds. But seeing the grace of Jesus, hearing his words of forgiveness, our hearts are changed. We are called to repentance, turning from the reviling and rebelling and instead praying for mercy from the king of kings.
This thief humbly prays to be remembered when Christ comes into his kingdom. And in this prayer, a beautiful confession of faith. That death won’t be the end of Jesus. That Jesus, is indeed a king. And that just to be remembered by him is enough.
As humble a prayer as it is, the answer is grand and glorious. “Today you will be with me in paradise”. A promise that also applies to every repentant sinner who prays to Christ the king.
When we depart this world of sin and death, when our soul is finally free from the vale of tears, when we must face the final judgment before the righteous judge and king – we have nothing to fear. Death is but the gate to life. We who are in Christ, have a promise of paradise.
Paradise, like that first home of our first parents, a garden of delights. Paradise, a place untouched by sin and sorrow and death. Paradise the blest. An eternal home full of peace and joy and rest, and nothing bad or fearful or impure.
And even that’s not the end of our story, for as Christ will rise from the dead, so he also promises us a resurrection. That thief who now rests in paradise, along with all Christians who have died in the faith, will rise at his coming. He is the firstborn of the dead, but there will be many others, even all who have lived and believed in him.
As this church year concludes, we again consider the peace that is ours by the blood of his cross. He has reconciled sinners to himself, fulfilled our forgiveness with the Father, and promised us a place in paradise. Therefore let us continually repent, and turn to him, Jesus, our crucified and risen king.
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