Devotionals

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THE TESTIMONY OF THE CRUCIFIED THIEF

The four of us were awaiting the final judgment on that fateful morning. One person chosen by the crowd would be made free. I thought the Jews would ask I be made free. But suddenly they all shouted in one accord: “Release to us Barabbas!” My life became gloomy. I was so miserable that no one could make me believe that hope had already risen like the mid-day sun. Barabbas (meaning ‘son of the father’) was delivered while they shouted of the true Son of the Father: “ Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” And with Him, the two of us were led to Golgotha.

As I moved on, being also whipped cruelly by the fierce Roman soldiers who were specially trained for criminal torture, and with my co-robber, I saw clearly with much proximity for the first time, the very tender gentleman who had been, from childhood, a matter of concern throughout the land.

The stampeding was much. Everyone had always wanted to see how criminals were tortured. But this time, the mob was vast and great for a renowned, famed and great Rabbi (meaning “‘Teacher”) was involved.

Nothing so much impressed me about Him like His infallible testimony. If it were for His physique, He looked weak and poor, helpless. Women especially were speaking for Him: “He raised my dead son! He saved me from shame on my wedding day! He exorcised a demon from my daughter...” Still, some men were shouting about how he fed them, healed their withered hands and opened their eyes.

He opened not His mouth to defend Himself. He did not even speak for Himself. Unlike us, He sought not freedom. He was like a lamb that makes no sound when it is being sheared. I began to believe in His perfection and goodness through the testimony of the people as we headed for Golgotha to have our inevitable end.

Then, another uproar rented the air. These were revered elders and men of reputation. “He called Himself the King of the Jews! He saved others, let Him save Himself. You said you could destroy the temple and build it in three days. So, save yourself!” They exclaimed with a great zeal.

If we looked at Him, we would see nothing special that would cause us to like Him. He did not look special. He had no special glory. People made fun of Him and His friend left Him. But He took our troubles and made them His. He bore our pain, but we thought God beat Him for something He did. He was crushed for our guilt. By His stripes, we were healed (forgiven). The Lord decided that he must suffer, so the servant gave Himself to be the one to die.

Then I raised a reviling statement: “You saved others, then get down from the cross!” For a woman I knew to be a prostitute also testified that He saved her from the Pharisees and scribes. But He gave me no answer. He said nothing against His accusers. But to His acquaintances, he kept prophesying and comforting them. Knowing we were having only a short time, we started hurting the soldiers and other spectators with malignant words. We cursed with a great passion and feelings. But each time I gazed at this Galilean, I saw love, compassion, meekness and gentleness in Him. Being reviled did not revile in turn: being persecuted, yet blessing.

We were nailed. The agony and distress was so much. I wondered how He managed to speak comforting words and forgiveness. No one who had never been crucified could comprehend, fully, the difficulty we underwent in breathing. So, only hurtful words were sweet to speak and of course, easily spoken. I thought no man crucified can ever bless (I had seen none all my life). I wondered how a sufferer like us could be blessing the spectators.

A great fear of the measure of His godliness came upon me when He redefined the ties between His mother and one of His beloved friends; asked forgiveness for the cruel soldiers even as they almost rendered Him nude, dividing His garments by casting lots. It was a very sunny day: phlegm was thick like never before. And the people spat on Him and some were shooting out their lips at Him with a great hatred! We were criminals, but we were not hurt so much. People were moving past our crosses to shame Him. He was the utmost centre of attention.

My fellow criminal felt Christ should deliver us from physical torture if truly He is the saviour, yet he marveled at how weak He was. As he perceived things were becoming worst in the body, he blasphemed Him, saying: “If you are the Christ, save yourself and us”. I rebuked him: “Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation, and we justly indeed, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong”.

Little did I know that my confession was costing me something: a step into eternal life. This was around mid-day, about twelve O’ clock. I did not realize that from my own words, I have accepted that I was sinful and He was righteous. And the testimony of the inhumane centurion who said: “Truly this man was the Son of God” further strengthened my faith in Him.

I also wondered how so easily he gave up His own spirit. For a young man in the fullness of His strength would keep struggling with his own spirit, not wanting to die. Jesus’ was different. He couldn’t break a bent reed; very yielding to His God. His bones were not broken like those of my legs. If I had known, I would have conformed to His death, not having any extra suffering of the breaking of the legs.

As the soldiers drew near Him, intending to hurt Him the most, they were amazed He is already dead. But one of them wanting to hurt Him by any means, thrusted his spear through His side. In my own suffering, about to give up the ghost, I heard the shouts of the blood of sprinkling overcome the unmerciful cry for vengeance and judgment. Even till now, His blood of sprinkling speaks better things that the blood of Abel which shouted for vengeance until the punishment that Cain could not bear was piled upon him. The little, but precious, blood kept speaking for the soldiers and every human being ever born and will ever be born. The same blood is still shouting: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do”.

He reached the grave (the place of Death) before me. It was there I saw His Lordship over all things. I did not see Death and Hades: they fled before Him! Just like Him, I was not withheld by the pangs of Death, for I was baptized into Him by the Holy Spirit. The same work of salvation, teaching and deliverance He did on earth also did He in Hell. Instantly, the dead saints of old (taken captives by Death and Hades) were set loose from the pangs of Death. They resurrected instantly, for they already believed, in their days earth, by faith, the Christ whom they never saw.

I was the worst of sinners, but Christ saved me that in me, the boundless measure of His grace may be revealed. I was nothing when I met Christ. And even after I was saved on the cross, I had nothing that is of great esteem to Christians. I was saved by grace alone, by faith alone and by His word alone. I did not even speak in tongues. I did not partake of water baptism, let alone the Holy Ghost’s. According to law, unlike the later saved Apostle Paul, I was not blameless, but deserving of death. I had done no good thing unto God!

I thank God I was crucified with Christ. He granted me repentance. My friend was the most miserable of all men. He met Christ before he died, but did not believe. He might believe in the grave if he had not met Christ. This saying is true: the resurrected Christ can be of no good to he who having seen Him walk on earth, did not believe. So after His resurrection, He showed Himself only to His disciples. And even though He shall be seen by all in His second coming, only a few, compared to the whole, shall meet Him in the sky.

Thank God, I was not delivered unto the Jews like Barabbas: I would never have believed Jesus. I would miss it. If I was not crucified with Him, how would I, full of pride and boasting, have believed a mere Galilean, so unlucky and hated and evil (as they supposed), that Barabbas, a chronic, notorious criminal and murderer, was preferred by the most esteemed religious Jews to live in the city and who was not able to save Himself from the most shameful and painful death on the cross, enough to be my saviour. How could I, who delighted in strength, have accepted as my saviour, a young man who looked so weak and weary that even the soldiers trained to be unmerciful had to be merciful enough to force one man coming from the fields to bear His cross for Him.


My conclusion:

Jesus is humble that it takes
No great man to believe Him..
Like the cover of the tabernacle,
He’s not attractive from afar
But in Him alone and alone
Dwells the invaluable treasure:
The fullness of the Godhead
His blood was not shed like bulls’
To be sucked and sapped by the earth
But to redeem men unto God
By the washing of rebirth.
Now, He may look as if
He cannot save Himself,
His glorious return shall be great!

May the Christ who saved me help others too to be able to attain to the level of foolishness (which towards God is wisdom) it takes to believe the Lord Jesus Christ, unto whom be glory and praise forever and ever in the Church.

Finally, to all my brethren and clouds of witnesses of the nativity of Mount Zion and every being in the heavenly places, this is my TESTIMONY. Shalom!

©2007
Akindele [email protected]
Isaiah 53; Psalm 22; Matthew 27: 15-23, 38-44, 50- 54 Luke 23: 39-43, John 19: 31-37.

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