Short answer: Luke 23:34–46 records Jesus asking the Father to forgive those crucifying him, promising a repentant criminal that he will be with him that day in Paradise, and committing his spirit to the Father before he dies. Around these sayings, rulers, soldiers and one criminal mock him to save himself if he is the Christ. Luke answers that mockery by showing a righteous man who saves others precisely by refusing to come down. The darkness, the torn temple veil and the centurion's confession mark the death as a decisive act, not a tragedy that overtook him.
Voices around the cross: the setting of Luke 23:34-46
Luke sets this scene at the place called The Skull, outside Jerusalem, at Passover. Two criminals are led out with Jesus and crucified on his right and left, soldiers divide his garments and cast lots, and the people stand watching. Luke writes as an ordered reporter, not a poet, arranging the moment as a sequence of speeches: Jesus speaks, the rulers scoff, the soldiers mock, one criminal insults him, the other answers, Jesus speaks again, darkness falls, and he cries out a final time. The trial is still fresh in the reader's mind, where Pilate declared him innocent while the crowd demanded death, and Jesus had already warned the weeping women of judgment to come.
The mockery has a shape worth noticing. Rulers, soldiers, and one criminal press the same taunt in three voices: save yourself. The rulers frame it with the title Christ of God, the soldiers with the charge written above him in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, and the criminal with a demand to be saved along with him. The inscription unwittingly tells the truth about the one dying beneath it. What every voice urges is precisely what Jesus refuses to do, and his first word from the cross is not a rescue of himself but a prayer for the ones doing this to him.
The second criminal breaks the pattern. He speaks of fearing God, admits the sentence is just, and insists this man has done nothing wrong. Then he asks to be remembered in the Kingdom. Luke places the promise of Paradise between that request and the darkness, the darkened sun, and the temple veil torn in two. The centurion glorifies God and calls him righteous; the crowds go home beating their breasts. The death produces confession and grief, not spectacle. The promise given to that one repentant man is a specific word to him, and it invites mourning readers to bring their own grief honestly to the same Lord rather than to claim a guarantee for anyone else.
Forgiveness, paradise, and a final entrusting
Luke sets the scene with brutal plainness: two criminals are led out with Jesus, and all three are crucified, one on each side of him. The first words from the cross in this account are not a curse but a prayer. Jesus asks the Father to forgive the people doing this, and Luke adds the reason Jesus gives: they do not know what they are doing. The soldiers below him divide his clothes and cast lots, the ordinary business of executioners. Nothing in the scene looks like a throne. Yet the prayer shows the Father's mercy flowing through the very act that looks like defeat.
The mockery is relentless and strangely theological. The rulers challenge him to save himself if he is God's chosen one. The soldiers offer sour wine and repeat the taunt about the King of the Jews, and Pilate's inscription over him says the same in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, so the charge is public and official in every language of the crowd. One criminal joins the jeering. The other rebukes him, admits their sentence is just, and says this man has done nothing wrong. Then he asks Jesus to remember him in his kingdom. Jesus answers with a promise tied to today: the man will be with him in Paradise. That is a specific word to a repentant man at the hour of his death, not a blanket assurance about anyone else's eternal state, so grieving readers can hold it with hope without turning it into a guarantee.
Darkness covers the land for three hours, the sun fails, and the temple veil tears in two. Jesus cries out, committing his spirit into the Father's hands, using the everyday language of entrusting something precious to someone trusted, then breathes his last. The centurion who watched it all glorifies God and calls him righteous, the same verdict the criminal had already reached. Luke ends the scene with the crowds returning home beating their breasts. The one who prayed for his killers, promised Paradise to a dying man, and entrusted himself to the Father is declared righteous by an outsider. Grace comes first here, and our response is to look at this crucified King and trust him.
The crucified king who saves by not saving himself
Luke has been building toward this moment. At the trial Pilate declared Jesus innocent while the crowd demanded crucifixion, and on the way to the cross Jesus warned the weeping women of judgment to come. So judgment is already in the air when he prays, "Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34). The mockery that follows repeats one taunt in three voices. Rulers, soldiers and one criminal all urge him to save himself. That is precisely what he refuses to do, and Luke wants us to see it.
The second criminal answers the taunt differently. He fears God, admits the sentence is just, and says of Jesus, "this man has done nothing wrong" (Luke 23:41). Then he asks to be remembered in the Kingdom, and Jesus answers, "Assuredly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise" (Luke 23:43). That promise is spoken to this repentant man on this day. It is a real hope and not a blanket guarantee about anyone else's eternal state, so grieving readers can trust the Savior who spoke it without turning it into a promise about a particular person.
Darkness covers the land, the temple veil tears in two, and Jesus commits his spirit to the Father before breathing his last. Luke places these signs around the death so it reads as the decisive act of a righteous man, not a tragedy that overtook him. The centurion glorifies God and the crowds go home beating their breasts. The dying Jesus speaks with authority over forgiveness, salvation and his own death, and his death produces confession and grief rather than mere spectacle.
Father, forgive them: what the text says and what it leaves open
Luke places Jesus between two criminals and gives the first word from the cross as a prayer for the people doing the killing. The soldiers divide his clothes; the rulers and soldiers mock; one criminal joins in. Jesus asks the Father to forgive, and the text does not name the offenders. Some readers hear the Roman executioners, since they are the ones dividing garments, and Luke elsewhere records Jesus asking pardon for those who acted in ignorance. Others include the leaders and crowd who scoffed. A further question is whether the prayer secured their forgiveness at once or asked God to hold back judgment long enough for repentance. Luke does not resolve it, and we should not force a verdict the sentence does not give.
The second criminal's words are the clearest confession in the scene. He fears God, admits the sentence is just, and says Jesus has done nothing wrong. Then he asks to be remembered when Jesus comes into his kingdom. The answer is a promise, not a general statement about death: "Assuredly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise" (Luke 23:43). Some readers take this as teaching that believers are with Christ immediately at death; others stress the certainty of the promise more than its timetable, noting that the word today anchors the assurance to that day without defining every detail of the state of the dead. Both readings hold the same center: a condemned man is saved by Christ's word alone. For grieving readers, this is one man's promise from Jesus, not a formula that settles every case.
The closing verses gather signs that Luke reports without interpreting. Darkness covers the land, the temple veil tears, and Jesus commits his spirit to the Father and dies. Readers connect the torn veil either to new access to God or to the end of the old temple order; the darkness can read as judgment, as grief, or as both. The centurion's verdict, that this was a righteous man, matches the criminal's earlier claim of innocence. What stays firm through these differences is that Jesus dies innocent, prays for enemies, saves a condemned man, and entrusts himself to the Father. The restraint of the text is part of its gift.
The righteous one condemned with criminals
Luke sets the scene with a detail that matters: Jesus is led out with two criminals, and at the Skull he is crucified between them, one on the right and one on the left. The placement is deliberate. The righteous one dies in the company of the guilty. Then comes the first word from the cross in this account: Jesus asks the Father to forgive the people doing this, because they do not know what they are doing. Soldiers divide his clothing and cast lots while he prays. Luke lets the mockery pile up around that prayer, from rulers, soldiers, and one of the criminals, all pressing the same taunt: save yourself.
The taunt exposes what is at stake. The rulers say he saved others, so let him save himself if he is God's chosen one. The soldiers offer vinegar and repeat it. The criminal on the cross joins in. But the other criminal rebukes him, admits their sentence is just, and says this man has done nothing wrong. Then he asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Jesus answers with a promise: today you will be with me in Paradise. Notice that salvation reaches this man precisely because Jesus does not save himself. The dying Christ speaks a promise to a man with no claim of his own, and that is the gospel in miniature.
Darkness covers the land, the temple veil tears in two, and Jesus cries out, committing his spirit to the Father before he breathes his last. A centurion watching it all glorifies God and calls him a righteous man, and the crowds go home beating their breasts. Luke is not offering a blanket guarantee that every dying person hears a promise like the criminal's. That word was spoken to this repentant man on this day. What the passage does hold out is the one who prayed for his killers, refused to come down, and entrusted himself to the Father, so that a condemned man could be told he would be with him.
What faithful response looks like at the cross
Read the sayings slowly and notice that each one is spoken to someone. Jesus addresses the Father, then the rulers and soldiers speak, then one criminal and then the other. The cross does not stay an abstraction here. When Jesus prays for those putting him to death, he asks the Father to forgive them and names their ignorance. That gives us a concrete pattern: pray for people who oppose you, and leave the outcome with God. He does not announce that everyone was forgiven on the spot. He asks, and he trusts the Father with the answer, even when no visible result follows.
The second criminal gives us another response. He does not defend himself or compare his record with anyone else's. He says plainly that the sentence is just, and then he asks Jesus to remember him in his kingdom. His hope rests on the one dying beside him, not on anything he has done. That is the shape of honest repentance. We name our guilt without excuses and rest on Christ's promise rather than our performance. Grieving readers should hold that promise with care: it was spoken to this repentant man, and it invites the same trust without becoming a guarantee we pronounce over anyone else.
Jesus' final words entrust his spirit to the Father. That trust was not improvised in the crisis; it was the habit of a life aimed at the Father. So the response grace makes possible is practiced on ordinary days, not only in emergencies: committing today's work, worries and people to a Father who has proved faithful. None of this earns safety or relief. Praying for enemies, confessing guilt and entrusting our days are simply what grace makes possible in us, and they are enough for the ordinary Tuesday as much as for the last hour.
Biblical fidelity check
Read slowly, Luke 23:34–46 puts three voices around the cross: mockers demanding self-rescue, a criminal asking to be remembered, and Jesus praying and entrusting himself to the Father. The risks are real. We may import later debates into the prayer for forgiveness, or treat the promise of Paradise as a timetable rather than a certainty. We may also over-explain the darkness and the torn veil, which the text reports without interpreting. Careful reading keeps description separate from doctrine and lets the silence stand.
Evangelical readers genuinely differ over whom Jesus meant in the prayer for forgiveness and whether it secured pardon or asked for delay. Some hear Paradise as teaching immediate presence with Christ at death; others stress the promise's certainty more than its schedule. The torn veil and the darkness are likewise read differently. What stays central is that Jesus dies innocent, prays for his enemies, saves a condemned man by promise, and commits his spirit to the Father. The text does not settle every detail, and that restraint should remain.
Reading Luke 23:34-46 alongside other passages
For a wider study, compare Luke in the Bible: The Gospel That Seeks the Lost with the other Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, then trace the temple veil in Amyraldism Explained: Romans 5 and the Extent of Atonement and the darkness in Assured Paradise: What Jesus Promised the Thief on the Cross. The centurion's confession in Isaiah 53:4–6: The Servant Who Bore Our Sickness is worth reading alongside the mockery that precedes it.
Frequently asked questions
What are the seven sayings of Jesus on the cross, and where does each one appear in the Gospels?
The seven sayings are gathered from all four Gospels rather than from a single account. Luke gives three: the prayer for forgiveness in 23:34, the promise to the criminal in 23:43, and the commit of his spirit to the Father in 23:46. John gives three: the word to his mother in 19:26–27, the cry of thirst in 19:28, and the declaration that it is finished in 19:30. Matthew and Mark preserve the fourth, the cry of forsakenness in Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34. No Gospel lists all seven together, so the traditional list is a harmony built from the four accounts.
Why did Jesus ask the Father to forgive the people crucifying him?
Jesus prays for forgiveness because those putting him to death do not know what they are doing, as Luke 23:34 states. The prayer does not excuse the act; it asks the Father to pardon the ignorance of the ones performing it. Luke places the prayer at the moment of crucifixion, before the mockery that follows, so the first word from the cross is mercy rather than protest. The prayer also matches what Luke has shown throughout his Gospel, that Jesus came to seek and save the lost. It models a mercy his followers are later told to practice, though the text does not promise that every person involved was automatically forgiven apart from repentance.
What did Jesus mean when he told the criminal, today you will be with me in Paradise?
Jesus means that the repentant criminal will share his own presence in the place of blessing on that very day, not at some distant future. The promise is personal, spoken to one man who had just asked to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom. It answers a request about a future kingdom with a gift that begins immediately. This is a specific promise to a specific person, and Luke does not turn it into a general guarantee about anyone else's eternal state. For grieving readers, the comfort is that Jesus speaks with authority over what happens after death, not that we can pronounce on any particular person's destiny.
