THE GOOD THIEF

A tormented scream rang out across the desert plain, echoing off the emptiness that surrounded death’s hill. It felt like a thousand knives were being thrust into his feet, over and over. Parched beyond the point of dehydration, blistered lips cried out for relief that his sandpaper tongue could not answer. 

And the afternoon wore on. 

Scenes of his guilt picked at his mind like vultures over a carcass. No matter how much he fought it, there was no peace to be found. No soothing for this troubled mind. Nothing to be done for a soul that deserved the punishment. All that was left to do was endure until the peaceful darkness found him again. If, in fact, it was peace he would find. 

And the afternoon wore on.

He flicked a bloodied eye open to see the man they called the Nazarene quietly struggling. He’d watched on as they tortured and mocked Him. All the while, Jesus had remained silent. And the old thief had wondered… What drove an innocent man to accept such a punishment? Could it be He is who He says He is? Could He give a sinner the peace he didn’t deserve but so deeply craved? ‘Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ the other thief cried out. He waited for Jesus to respond, but He did nothing.

‘Don’t you fear God,’ the first thief coughed, ‘since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.’ He took a laboured breath and reached for peace, for he had nothing left to lose. ‘Jesus,’ he called, forcing the words out on what little breath remained, ‘remember me when you come into your kingdom.’‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise,’ he heard Him say, before a peaceful darkness he did not deserve settled in.

written by NERI MORRIS