Not the least remarkable of all that the dying robber said is his appeal to the dying Lord, "Jesus, when thou [411] comest in thy kingdom, remember me." And why remember him? Why remember a dying robber who with his latest words, while suspended on the cross, confessed that he was receiving the "due reward of his deeds"? If Jesus should come in his kingdom, and should have control over the destiny of such a man, why should the latter wish to be remembered by him? Why did he not pray to be forgotten? Why did he not say, "Pray forget that you ever met with a guilty wretch like me. Let me drop into oblivion, and not be numbered among those with whom thou shalt deal"? For if Jesus should remember him, what could he do but send him to perdition?

      But evidently the robber used the word "remember" in a pregnant sense. He used it as a wife does when her husband is starting on a long journey: "Husband, remember me; don't forget me." He used it as a beggar does, who says to a benevolent friend; "When you make your Christmas presents, remember me;" or as a condemned criminal, who appeals to the Governor, "When you exercise your pardoning power, remember me." He wanted to be remembered in mercy; to be remembered as one who, though he had spoken unkind words in anger, had soon repented of them, and rebuked the continuous revilings of his companion. To be remembered as the one who, when governor and priest and scribe and all the rabble were crying out against him, was the only man in all that multitude who had said, "This man has done nothing amiss." It was no time for qualifying words, or for giving reasons. The appeal was a despairing, and yet a slightly hopeful call, in the briefest words, to one who would understand all that was meant. It was not a time for polite words or complimentary titles. He does not say, Lord Jesus, or [412] Rabbi, or Master; but, as if he had known him all his life, "Jesus"--"Jesus, remember me."

      And now look again at this man's faith. He not only believes, contrary to the expectation of every other living man, that this dying Jesus will yet come in his kingdom, but that when he comes, he will be able to do something for wretches like himself after they shall have expiated their crimes by death on the cross. What that something was he did not fully or clearly understand, but scarcely had the words escaped his lips until he hears through the labored breathing of Jesus the surprising words, "To-day thou shalt be with me in paradise." And what words did Jesus ever utter so surprising as these? How strange that the first man of all whom he had known on earth to be with him in paradise, should be a crucified robber! This most exceptional instance of salvation from sin is worthy of deeper reflection and profounder study than it has yet received.

      One more remark: If those are right who teach, by a misinterpretation of a passage in Peter's first Epistle, that Jesus spent the time between his death and his resurrection preaching to lost souls in Hades, then it follows that he promised his company to the wrong robber when he died. Instead of saying to the penitent robber, "To-day thou shalt be with me in paradise," he should have said to the impenitent one, "To-day I shall be with thee among the spirits in prison."

[SEBC 411-413]