Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

"Today you will be with me in Paradise."

That’s a pretty amazing promise to make,

to someone who was a known criminal.

And not just a petty thief, either,

like we are sometimes led to belief …

Crucifixion was reserved for those found guilty

of the most heinous sorts of crimes.

After all, it wasn’t just the death penalty;

it was a public execution,

with a particularly prolonged and nasty form of death.

Sort of like burning someone at the stake,

or the "hanging, drawing, and quartering"

reserved for traitors in medieval England.

Except that even those

were speedy compared to crucifixion.

According to imperial Rome,

traitors deserved crucifixion,

which is why we find Jesus there, on the cross …

But they didn’t normally crucify common criminals,

which suggests that Jesus’ two companions in death

were probably pretty unsavory characters in real life.

Not just pickpockets in the crowd at Passover,

but maybe more like the thieves

that hung out on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho,

and robbed people, beat them up, and left them dead or nearly so …

like in the parable of the good Samaritan.

That sort of criminal might find himself crucified.

Yet Jesus says to one of these men,

"Today you will be with me in Paradise."

Well, the very idea!

If you can steal people’s money and knock them on the head,

and still end up in paradise after you’ve been executed,

where is the justice in that?!

If that’s the way God is going to be,

maybe we should all just go out and rob a bank or something!

How hard it is for us to live with the belief that

"God does not deal with us according to our sins,

nor reward us according to our iniquities."

That doesn’t even originate with Jesus;

it’s in the Psalms, which are several hundred years older.

Which is not to say that God doesn’t care at all about our sins;

we’re not going to get off that easily!

Only that who we are, as God’s children,

is more than the sum total of our bad deeds,

or even our good deeds,

or any of our deeds at all.

What seems to matter is our recognition

that God is God, and we are not,

and our understanding that that should make some difference

in how we live and what we believe,

even if we sometimes fall short of living as we should.

When you think about it,

that criminal on the cross

makes a pretty feeble confession of faith.

"This man has done nothing wrong,"

he says to the other criminal,

which is true enough, but lots of people could have told him that.

He then says, "Jesus, remember me

when you come into your kingdom" …

which does imply some sort of basic-level understanding

that Jesus is a king of some kind or another.

But what does Jesus say?

Not, "Sure, brother, I will think of you when I get there."

Or even, "I’ll pray for your soul when I get to my kingdom."

But rather, "Today you will be with me in Paradise."

That is, "When I come into my kingdom,

you will be there with me."

If the eleven remaining apostles hadn’t been off hiding

in fear for their very lives,

they might have taken offense at that.

Didn’t they deserve some consideration?

Hadn’t they left everything behind to follow Jesus?

How could he promise paradise to some deathbed convert

who hadn’t been through everything they had been through?

How hard it is and was,

then as now,

to remember that God is not interested in what we "deserve."

In a way, it’s easier for us to see and to accept at the beginning of life

than it is at the end of life.

Think about the case of baptism,

particularly among those of us churches that baptize infants.

When God makes that claim on a child’s life,

it’s not because the child has done anything to deserve it.
Sure, they’re adorable,

but if "adorable" were the criterion,

we’d baptize puppies, too.

When God calls to us as children,

or calls to our parents on our behalf,

if you want to think about it in that way,

it’s not because we’ve already done a long list of good deeds,

nor even because we’ve done bad deeds

from which we need to be cleansed!

Baptism is God’s free gift to us,

God’s statement of care and concern and claim,

and it has nothing to do with what we do or don’t deserve.

It has only to do with God’s grace.

But it’s easier to understand God’s grace and to come to terms with it,

in the life of a small child,

who after all needs all the help they can get …

than it is later on in life,

whether for ourselves or someone else,

when we can look back and make a thorough list of

"Things I’ve done that suggest I deserve God’s reward" and

"Things I’ve done that probably deserve God’s punishment."

On the one hand, grace is easy …

it has only to be accepted.

On the other hand, it’s the most difficult thing in the world,

because to accept it means giving up the notion that we,

and others, are necessarily going to "get what we deserve."

On the one hand, grace is easy …

it has only to be accepted.

On the other hand, it’s the most difficult thing in the world,

because to accept it means giving up the notion that we,

and others, are necessarily going to "get what we deserve."

Yes, yes, we recognize that this life isn’t always fair, and isn’t always just,

and bad things do happen to good people,

and sometimes the wicked do prosper.

But if we can’t count on God to some day sort it all out,

then what is the purpose of God, after all?

What does it mean for us

that a crucified criminal

will be in paradise with Jesus?

For one thing,

it means that whatever the meaning or purpose is of this life,

it is not an exam that we must pass in order to receive God’s grace.

Whether that sounds to us like good news or bad news

has a lot to do with how we perceive ourselves

in relation to other people,

and in relation to how we "ought" to be.

If we’ve tried hard to play by the rules,

to do the things we’re supposed to do

and not do the things we’re not supposed to do,

we might wish that "Christ the King"

would be a pretty exacting judge.

To be sure, we’re not perfect,

but we’re light-years ahead of those criminals

like the ones crucified with Jesus …

one of whom is going to be in paradise with him.

Dang! Shouldn’t we at least get a higher grade?

A nicer neighborhood of paradise?

Something ?

And yet, we are the reason that Jesus is on the cross in the first place.

We can make all the broad theological statements we want

about Jesus dying "for the sins of the world" …

yet it’s also very personal.

He died for my sins, and your sins,

and the sins of those two criminals there with him,

and the sins of the twelve disciples who were afraid for their lives,

and the sins of the scribes and Pharisees who condemned him,

and the sins of the Romans who executed him.

It’s very specific.

No matter whether our sins are petty and nitpicky,

or spectacular and glaring,

we all do it.

Whether they get us crucified

or get us a guilty conscience,

they’re just as real either way.

The only way in which we can come to "deserve" the grace of God

is, paradoxically, by recognizing that we do not and cannot deserve it.

Once we let go of trying to prove ourselves to God,

prove ourselves to one another,

prove ourselves to ourselves …

Once we allow ourselves to become, once again,

like that little child waiting to receive baptism …

Then we are ready.

Yes, I’m a sinner.

But it’s okay.

God will take care of it.

Yes, you’re a sinner.

God will take care of it.

Yes, those scary people on death row in Huntsville are sinners.

God will take care of it.

What we all have to do is stop trying to defend ourselves,

making explanations and excuses for ourselves;

even stop trying to save ourselves.

It’s not our job.

It’s God’s.

God is not interested in what we deserve.

God wants to give paradise to all of us,

because God wants to be with all of us,

for all time and beyond.

But in order for us to receive that gift,

to take hold of it for ourselves,

we have to let go of everything else we’ve been holding onto.

I don’t even mean our "stuff";

that’s another sermon altogether!

I mean we have to give up depending on ourselves

to do something that none of us can do.

We have to give ourselves up to God

in order to get ourselves back.

Ultimately, Christ is a merciful king.

Do we deserve it?

No … and yes,

because God says that we do.

Paradise awaits.

Shall we join our brother the criminal there?

Shall we join our brother Jesus there?

Amen.

© 2007 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)