Short answer: In Luke 23:39–43 two criminals hang beside Jesus. One joins the mockery; the other rebukes him, admits his own guilt, and asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his Kingdom. Jesus answers that the man will be with him that very day in Paradise. Salvation comes here through a direct appeal to Jesus as King, not through ritual, standing, or a good record, and the promise is specific: today, with me.
A dying man's request in the middle of an execution
Luke sets this scene at a Roman crucifixion outside Jerusalem, and he tells it almost entirely through speech. Rulers and soldiers have already mocked Jesus, and the inscription above the cross announces him as King of the Jews. One criminal joins that chorus, pressing the same challenge as the crowd: save yourself. Luke places the exchange between the public taunts and the darkness and torn temple veil that follow, so it reads as a quiet conversation inside a loud and brutal event. The setting matters because everything said here is said by men who are dying.
The scene sharpens a theme Luke has carried through the passion story: Jesus is the innocent one condemned while guilty men go free. The second criminal says as much, admitting his own sentence is just and that this man has done nothing wrong. Then he asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his Kingdom. He expects a reign from a man who is dying beside him. That request stands against the chorus demanding self rescue, and it reaches back to Israel's hope of a coming King and forward to the outsiders and sinners Luke has shown welcomed all along.
Jesus answers with one sentence, and it is a promise about presence, not recovery. He does not take the man down from the cross. He speaks of Paradise and of today, which means the promise outruns the execution itself. Immediately after this, Luke records darkness over the land and the temple veil torn in two, marking the death of Jesus as the turning point of the whole story. Read with grieving families and the dying, the passage offers Christ's company to a repentant sinner. It does not promise physical healing, and it gives no reason to postpone turning to him.
The passage holds together two things that are easy to separate. The man's honesty about his own guilt and his hope in a dying King are both part of the same request, and Jesus answers the hope without removing the sentence. That is the shape of grace here: not escape from the circumstances, but the promise of Christ's presence within them. For anyone sitting with the dying, or grieving after a death, the comfort offered is real but specific. It is the word of Jesus to a man who had nothing left to offer, and it is enough.
Two criminals, two answers, one promise
Luke places three voices at the cross in quick succession. The rulers and soldiers have already mocked Jesus, and now one of the criminals joins them. Luke says he insulted him, and his words pick up the taunt already in the air: if you are the Christ, save yourself and us. The demand is not a question but a challenge, and it treats Jesus as a resource to be used. The second man answers differently. He rebukes the first and asks whether he fears God at all, since both of them are under the same condemnation. That question turns the scene from spectacle to judgment.
The second criminal then does something remarkable. He agrees with his own sentence, saying they are receiving what their deeds deserve, and he adds that Jesus has done nothing wrong. Only after that does he ask anything. He addresses Jesus as Lord and asks him to remember him when he comes into his Kingdom. It is a plea for favor, not a demand to be taken down from the cross. He does not ask to escape death; he asks to be remembered by the one dying beside him. That is the shape of repentance here, honest about guilt and hopeful about mercy.
Jesus answers with the firm formula, Assuredly I tell you, and then gives three weighted words: today, with me, Paradise. The promise is immediate, personal, and located beyond the cross. It does not reverse the sentence the man is under, and it does not promise recovery to anyone else. It promises the presence of Christ to a repentant sinner at the point of death. Read alongside the darkness and the torn temple veil that follow, the promise shows grace reaching a man who had nothing left to offer but his need.
A dying criminal asks to be remembered
Luke has built his account around an innocent man condemned while the guilty go free, and this scene sharpens that theme. The inscription above the cross announces him as King of the Jews in three languages. Rulers and soldiers turn the title into a taunt, and one criminal joins the chorus: if you are the Christ, save yourself and us. Everyone around the cross asks Jesus to come down. The second criminal asks something else entirely. He does not request release, healing, or a verdict of innocence. He asks to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom, expecting a reign from a man who is dying beside him.
Notice how that request rests on honest confession. The second criminal rebukes his companion, asks whether he fears God under the same sentence, and admits their punishment is just while this man has done nothing wrong. He has no religious standing, no good record, no ritual to offer, and no time left to build one. He simply appeals to Jesus as Lord and King. Jesus answers far beyond the request: not a distant memory but presence with him that very day, in Paradise. The promise is specific, spoken by the one dying next to him, not a general hope about human goodness.
Luke places darkness over the land and the torn temple veil immediately after this promise, marking the death of Jesus as the turning point of the story. The scene stands within Israel's hope of a coming King and a future restoration, and it looks ahead to the welcome Luke records for outsiders and sinners. Grace here is Christ's own word to a man with nothing to commend him. It assures the repentant of his presence, but it promises no physical recovery, and it gives no one grounds to postpone repentance until the last hour.
For grieving families and the dying, the passage offers the mercy of Christ rather than a guarantee of recovery. It should never be used to encourage delaying repentance.
Where readers differ over the thief on the cross
Evangelical readers agree on the core: this man was saved by grace through faith, and Jesus' promise was immediate and personal. Where they differ is in how to use the scene. Some point to it as a pattern for deathbed conversions, noting that Jesus answered a dying man's plea with assurance rather than conditions. Others stress that this is a unique moment in redemptive history, spoken before the resurrection, and warn against treating it as a reason to delay repentance. Both instincts are right to guard: the text offers real hope to the dying, and it offers no encouragement to presume on a later hour.
Readers also differ over what Jesus meant by Paradise. Some hear a name for the immediate presence of God after death, resting on the word "today"; others read it as pointing toward the restored creation promised elsewhere in Scripture. The text itself does not settle the detail, and honest readers can say so. A related question is how the thief's limited understanding counts as faith. He knew little, but he feared God, admitted his guilt, and asked Jesus to remember him. What remains central is that the promise rested on Jesus' word alone.
Another dispute concerns baptism and ordinances. The text records none here, and that absence is why the passage is often cited in debates about what is required for salvation. Careful readers should notice what the text is doing: it is a narrative of a man dying beside Jesus, not a rule for ordinary Christian life. What stays central is that the promise came to a man with no good works to offer, and it was spoken before the resurrection. That gives hope to the dying without promising physical recovery, and it gives no one license to wait.
The condemned king who saves
Three voices speak at the cross, and each one tells us who Jesus is. The soldiers mock him as the King of the Jews, and the inscription above his head says the same in three languages. One criminal picks up the taunt and asks to be saved on his own terms, deliverance from the cross he is dying on. The other criminal says something different. He admits the sentence is just, and he says of Jesus, in 23:41, “but this man has done nothing wrong.” Luke keeps the innocent man at the center of a scene full of guilty ones.
Then the second criminal asks, in 23:42, “Lord, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” He is not asking for rescue from execution. He is asking a dying man to remember him in a kingdom still to come. Jesus answers with his own authority: 23:43, “Assuredly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” The promise rests on Jesus' word alone, spoken while he is under the same condemnation. The following verses mark the darkness and the torn temple veil, the death that makes such a promise possible. Here the guilty are justified freely, and the lost are welcomed.
This is grace in an unlikely place, but it is not a shortcut. The man is not baptized, not restoring what he stole, not proving himself first. He simply asks, and Christ answers. That comforts families who grieve a loved one who came to Christ late, and it steadies those who fear death. Yet the passage does not promise physical recovery, and it does not tell anyone to wait. The other criminal dies beside him unrepentant. The promise is Christ's presence with a sinner who turns to him, and that is enough to rest on.
What faithful response looks like when you bring nothing
Read the scene slowly. Two men are dying beside Jesus, and both say almost the same thing. One demands a rescue: if you are the Christ, save yourself and us. The other admits the sentence is just, says Jesus has done nothing wrong, and asks to be remembered when the kingdom comes. He brings no record of good deeds, no bargaining, no claim on God. He brings an honest admission and a plea. That is exactly what grace answers. So when you speak to God about your own record, do the same: confess what is true, ask for mercy, and rest on his word rather than on your progress.
Notice also the courage it took to speak at all. The crowd and the soldiers are mocking Jesus, and one criminal joins in. The other speaks up for him in that hostile air, and Jesus answers with a promise. Faithful response in ordinary life looks like that: saying a good word about Christ in a break room or a family argument, where it costs something. And guard against a misuse of this story. The thief was saved in his last hour, but the text gives no permission to presume on a future one. Mercy is available now; do not plan to delay repentance.
Finally, let the promise steady you. Jesus does not tell the man he will be spared the cross; he tells him he will be with him. When you sit with the dying or grieve a loss, this passage offers the presence of Christ to a repentant sinner, not a guarantee of recovery, safety, or relief in this life. Speak of it that way. Ask for mercy while it is called today, and let the word of Jesus, not your progress or your circumstances, be what you rest on.
The darkness and the torn veil that follow belong to the next verses, but they frame the promise. The man asked to be remembered in a kingdom; the answer came before any kingdom arrived, spoken from a cross in the dark. That is the shape of grace: God acts in Christ first, and our response is simply to ask and to trust him.
Biblical fidelity check
Luke sets the scene at the cross, where mockery comes from rulers, soldiers, and now one of the criminals hanged beside Jesus. His taunt borrows the earlier challenge to save yourself, so the passage is read by watching the two condemned men answer the same sight differently. The second man rebukes the first, admits his sentence is just, and insists Jesus has done nothing wrong. Then he asks to be remembered in Jesus' kingdom. The risk here is flattening the scene into a formula, or treating the thief's thin knowledge as a full creed rather than a plea for mercy.
The real disagreement is how to use this deathbed faith. Some see a pattern for late conversions; others stress that this is a unique moment before the resurrection and no reason to delay repentance. Readers also differ on what Paradise means in detail, and some cite the absence of baptism here in debates about ordinances. What stays central is that the promise rests on Jesus' word alone, spoken to a man with no good works, before the resurrection.
Reading Luke 23:39-43 alongside other passages
For further study, compare this scene with Luke in the Bible: The Gospel That Seeks the Lost, where Jesus speaks of his Kingdom, and with Assured Paradise: What Jesus Promised the Thief on the Cross, where another condemned man meets mercy. Then read Psalm 51 repentance: David's prayer and God's mercy on the temple veil and Bible Verses About Paradise: What Scripture Actually Says on the resurrection that follows.
Frequently asked questions
Was the thief on the cross saved without being baptized?
Yes, the text records no baptism, no ritual, and no religious act of any kind, only a request and a promise. Luke 23:43 gives the whole answer of Jesus: the man will be with him that day in Paradise. This does not make baptism optional for those who live on; it shows that baptism is not the thing that saves, and that nothing external was required of a man who could not get down from a cross. The thief's case is exceptional in its circumstances, and Scripture treats it as a real instance of grace rather than a pattern for skipping obedience. What it establishes is that Jesus himself is the ground of salvation.
What did Jesus mean by today you will be with me in Paradise?
Jesus promised the man immediate presence with him, not a distant hope. The word today answers the thief's request about a future Kingdom by pulling the assurance into the same day, and with me is the heart of the promise: not merely a pleasant place but company with Christ. Luke 23:43 is spoken by a man who is himself dying, so the promise rests on his authority rather than on visible circumstances. Paradise in Scripture names the place of God's blessed presence, and Jesus locates the repentant sinner there, alongside himself, before that day ends. The promise is specific to this man and this moment, and it is enough.
Can someone be saved at the very end of life after a lifetime of sin?
Yes, this passage shows that the door of grace stays open to the last hour. The criminal has no time to make amends, no record to point to, and no opportunity to be baptized or to serve; he has only a confession of guilt and a plea. Jesus receives him and promises Paradise that day. That is genuine hope for the dying and for families who grieve, because it rests on Christ's mercy rather than on the dying person's performance. At the same time, the passage is not an invitation to delay repentance; the man did not plan his deathbed faith, and Scripture nowhere encourages presuming on a future hour that may never come. Grace is free, and it is also urgent.
