It has sometimes been remarked that the thief had no opportunity of doing good works, and if, by this it be meant that he performed no deeds of charity, that he gave no alms, that he brought forth no fruits of active benevolence, it is a just remark; and if such things were essentially necessary to salvation, then, assuredly, the thief was unsaved. His hands were nailed to a cross, they could not therefore be stretched forth in acts of charity. His feet were nailed likewise, they could not therefore tread the pathway of active benevolence. All this is clear enough. His feet, while he had the use of them, had run in the highway of sin. His hands, while he had the use of them, had been stretched forth in deeds of violence, and now that he was nailed to the cross, his doings and goings were at an end. He had used his hands and his feet for the devil, but he had no opportunity of using them for God. If, therefore, salvation was, in any wise, by works, the thief’s case was hopeless.
And be it further noted that the thief on the cross knew nothing of the privilege of the great christian ordinances. He was never baptized, and he never received the Lord’s Supper, so far as the divine record informs us. This, too, is important. It is not — need we say it? — that we do not value exceedingly both of these precious institutions in their true place. Quite the reverse. So also as to good works; we hold them to be of unquestionable value. God has prepared a path of good works in which His people are to walk continually; and hence if any profess themselves Christians and do not walk in the divinely appointed and prepared path of good works, their profession is hollow and worthless. Mere lip profession is valueless to God and man; but where there is divine life in the soul, that life will show itself in fruits of righteousness which are by Jesus Christ unto the glory and praise of God.
So also as to christian ordinances, the holy scriptures teach us their true place, character, nature, and object. They teach us that baptism — the great initiatory ordinance of Christianity — sets forth, in the most impressive and significant manner, our death to all that in which we stood by nature — death to sin — death to everything in which, as children of the first Adam, we stood. They teach us that the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper sets forth the Lord’s death, the breaking of His body, the shedding of His blood. Who then could think of penning a single line to touch such institutions as these, or detract from their value? Surely no one who loves Christ or bows to the sovereign authority of His word. It will not, therefore, we trust, be supposed that we undervalue ordinances or good works when we call the reader’s attention to the fact that the thief on the cross neither participated in the one nor performed the other. But we do feel there is immense power in this simple fact. There is immense weight in the fact that there is one in heaven, a ransomed spirit present with the Lord, in the bright paradise above, who was never baptized and never received the Lord’s Supper, and who never bestowed the weight of a feather in charity. It may be said that, had he lived, he would. No doubt; but he did not, and hence the fact stands forth in all its clearness and telling power to speak in the ears of all who trust in ordinances and good works, if haply they will hear and ponder the precious and all-important truth. “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us.” Baptism has its place and its value; but if any were to say to us, “Unless you are baptized, you cannot be saved,” we should point them to the thief on the cross, and say, “There is a man who passed into paradise without ever passing under the water of baptism.” So also as to the Lord’s Supper, and so as to the entire range of what are called good works. The thief was saved without them. He was saved by grace, by blood, by faith. This cannot possibly be too deeply pondered in this day of busy religiousness and confidence in ordinances. The case of the dying thief is one of commanding interest and unspeakable importance. It stands like a powerful breakwater to stem the tide of ritualism and legal religiousness which is bearing away millions upon its bosom, and hurrying them down to the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone. The thief was saved without ordinances, and we therefore conclude that ordinances are not essential to salvation; ordinances have their value on earth, but they never brought any one to heaven.
But, then, let us look a little more closely at this marvelous narrative of the dying thief. Did he not, after all, do good works? Yes, verily. He did one of the greatest works that any saved sinner can do. And what was that? He bore witness to the truth. True it is that his feet and his hands were nailed to the cross, and were therefore powerless; but his eye, and his heart, and his tongue were free. His eye was free to gaze upon the Son of God; his heart was free to believe in His blessed Person; and his tongue was free to confess His Name in the face of a hostile world. Now to believe on the Son of God, and confess His Name, make up the sum of Christianity. When our Lord, in the days of His flesh, was asked by some, “What shall we do that we might work the works of God?” His answer was, “This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.” (John 6:28, 2928Then said they unto him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? 29Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent. (John 6:28‑29).) And the inspired apostle declares, “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made—unto salvation.” Rom. 10:9, 109That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. 10For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. (Romans 10:9‑10).
All this the dying thief, through infinite mercy, did; and had he come down from the cross and lived to the age of Methuselah, he could have done nothing more glorious, nothing more precious to God than what he did during the few moments of his christian life — a life begun, continued, and ended on the cross, so far as this world was concerned, but resumed in that glorious world above, where death can never enter. He bore witness to the truth. This is the grand object of all christian life. A man may be baptized — he may receive the bread and wine of the Eucharist hundreds of times — he may scatter thousands in so-called charity — he may bear amongst his fellows the very highest name for morality and religion — he may be a most zealous promoter of all the schemes of philanthropy — he may be and do all this, and yet never having confessed with his mouth the Lord Jesus, or believed in his heart that God raised Him from the dead, never be saved. This is a most solemn and weighty consideration in a day like the present when there is so much ado about ordinances, rites, ceremonies, and liturgical services, so much stress laid upon the forms and offices of religion, so much confidence in human authority. Where, we may well inquire, amid all this shall we find the noble confession of the dying malefactor? He confessed “Jesus, Lord.” This is what God looks for. This is what He values. He wants us to own the Lordship of His Son. To all those who trust in their ordinances and their doings, the divine utterance is, “If I were hungry, I would not tell thee.” What He wants is confession to His Son; and this confession of the mouth must flow from the belief of the heart. When Jesus is owned as Lord, everything gets its right place. There may be great weakness and great ignorance, but if the conscience bows to Jesus as Lord, all will come right. I may be so weak as to be only able to eat herbs, and so ignorant as to observe days; or, on the other hand, I may be so strong in the sense of my liberty, as to be able to eat meat, and so intelligent as not to observe days; but the great moral regulator is the confession of the Lordship of Jesus. This confession the thief rendered. “He said unto Jesus, Lord.” He not only owned His spotless; His perfect manhood; but he owned Him as Lord. It is singularly interesting to mark the way in which this precious soul was led on. After having rebuked sin and warned the sinner, in the person of his fellow — after having owned the truth as to himself and his condition, in contrast with that spotless One who hung beside him on the cross, he turns to Jesus, and his whole soul seems absorbed with that peerless object. He seems, as it were, to travel with marvelous rapidity, through all the stages of the “great mystery of godliness,” referred to in 1 Tim. 3:16,16And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory. (1 Timothy 3:16) of which the foundation is God manifested on earth, and the top stone, Man glorified in heaven. “And without controversy, great is the mystery of godliness; God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory.” Glorious mystery! May we enter more into its profound and wondrous depths!
We do not, of course, undertake to predicate as to the extent or clearness of the thief’s apprehensions of all this precious truth; but one thing is plain, he was taught to recognize in Jesus, “God manifest in the flesh.” And, further, he was enabled to look through the heavy clouds that gathered around that awful cross, and see the bright beams of glory in the future. “He said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.” Marvelous fruit of divine teaching! A few moments before he had been reviling the Blessed One: but now he bows in spirit before Him — owns Him as Lord — sees Him to be the God-man — speaks in accents befitting the most mature and calm confidence of a coming kingdom, and finally casts himself upon that almighty grace which shines in the words, “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.” (Psalm 50:1515And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. (Psalm 50:15).) “Lord, remember me” He forms that mysterious chain of three links. He puts “Lord” at one end, “me” at the other, and connects them both by that one powerful word “remember.” This is salvation. The moment any poor ruined, guilty, self-destroyed sinner becomes linked to the Man who was nailed to the tree, salvation is an eternally settled fact. It matters not who he is or what he is. His sins may be as crimson or as scarlet; they may be as black as midnight, they may be multiplied and magnified; but the moment he becomes linked with a Savior-God, he is saved in the power of an eternal salvation. His sins and his iniquities are blotted out as a thick cloud, and he is brought to God in all the credit and value of the Name of Jesus.
Thus it was with the dying thief. He found a full, a free, and an eternal salvation on the spot. The Lord Jesus went far beyond all his thoughts and all his desires. He had said, “Remember me, when thou comest into thy kingdom.” The Lord tells him he will do far better for him than that; “Verily, I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” In these words we have the three grand features of the salvation revealed in the gospel, namely, a present salvation; a personal salvation; and a perfect salvation. “Today” — “shalt thou” — “be with me” We do not dwell upon these points; they are familiar to most of our readers; but we offer one or two remarks as to our Lord’s style in this scene.
It is well worthy of notice that there is not one upbraiding word, not a single reference to the past, no allusion to his old habits or to his recent blasphemy or reviling — nothing whatever of this sort. It would not be in keeping with the gracious ministry of our Lord Jesus Christ. He saved all who came to Him, or who looked to Him, because He came to do the Father’s will, and all that came to Him were drawn of the Father, We do not enter upon the wide and interesting question of all that is involved in this drawing of the Father — what exercises of soul — what ploughings of conscience — what convictings by the power of the Spirit — what self-emptying, self-loathing, and soul-subduing — what heavings and tossings, ups and downs, hopes and fears. All these things have their special interest; but that which we now desire to press upon the reader is the perfectly unupbraiding grace with which the Lord receives the dying thief.
And it is the same in every case. “Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.” We may remember them, revert to them, be cut to the heart and bowed to the dust by the remembrance; but the moment we come to Jesus, all is blotted out, all forgiven, all forgotten. Such is His grace — such the divine perfection of His work — such the charm of His style. The poor guilty, self-condemned thief is received without a single demur. He casts himself upon Jesus in simple confidence, and the immediate answer is, “Today.” It is as though He had said to him, “You need not wait for the kingdom. You shall taste the joy of being with me long before the glories of the kingdom dawn upon this world. This very day I shall have you with me in that bright paradise above, whither I am going.” This, truly, was grace and salvation by grace. “Thou with me.” Here is the chain again. The thief had said, “Lord, remember me and Jesus answers him by, “Thou with me.” The dying Savior and the dying thief were linked together by a marvelous chain of grace; and, that very day, they were together in paradise. “With me” settled everything. There was nothing to wait for. All was done. Ordinances were not necessary. What ordinances could add aught to the atoning work of Jesus? It was Jesus for the thief on the cross, and therefore it was the thief with Jesus in paradise. Nothing can be simpler. The thief had no plea to urge, no claim, no title. While he had his liberty he lived in sin, and even after he was nailed to the cross he blasphemed and reviled the Son of God. But the arrow had entered his soul — his eyes had been opened to gaze upon the glorious Person of Jesus the God-man, and to discern the glories of a kingdom in the midst of a scene of shame and degradation — he beheld in that One whom the world had cast out and crucified, a spotless Man, his Lord, and the Possessor of a coming kingdom. He saw, he believed, he testified, and, finally, when the Roman soldiers came to discharge their brutal functions, that saved and happy man had only to say, “Ah! these men are just coming to send me straight to Jesus, my Savior, and my Lord. All is safe, clear, and bright. I am ready. My Lord has gone before, I have but to follow. To depart and be with Christ is far better.”
Most gladly could we linger over this wondrous scene; but we must close, and ere we do so, we shall merely leave this one question with the reader, “Are you saved?” This is a plain, pointed question; let it receive a plain, pointed answer. Do not put it away, do not give it a half answer. Answer it fully — answer it now, “Are you saved?” If not, let us exhort you solemnly not to put off this most momentous matter, but now, even now, like the dying thief, cast yourself upon Jesus and a full and eternal salvation is yours on the spot. But if you can say, through grace, “Yes, thank God, I am saved. I know it, and rejoice in it,” then remember — oh! may we all remember, we are called to own Jesus not only as our Savior but as our Lord. Let us never separate these two things. If Jesus has saved us, then is He, in very deed, our Lord and Master. His claims upon us — upon all we are, and all we have, are based upon the solid ground of redemption. The basis of our salvation in and through Him, and of His absolute authority over us, is one and the same, namely, His death. He gave himself for us. What a price! What a plea for our entire subjection to His holy authority!