Short answer: Luke 23:39–43 records two dying criminals and two very different responses to Jesus. One joins the mockery and demands to be saved from the cross; the other admits his own guilt, calls Jesus Lord, and asks to be remembered in his Kingdom. Jesus answers with a promise that the man will be with him that day in Paradise. The passage rests salvation on who Jesus is and on his word, not on the man's record, and it holds that welcome out to anyone who turns to him.
Two criminals, one promise, at the hinge of the passion
Luke sets this exchange on a real execution site outside Jerusalem, with Jesus crucified between two criminals. It is a narrative report, not a parable, and Luke gives it the shape of a short conversation: an insult, a rebuke, a confession, and a promise. The scene follows the mockery of the rulers and soldiers and the inscription over the cross naming Jesus as the King of the Jews. Both criminals begin by joining the taunting. Luke places the whole exchange just before the darkness and the tearing of the temple veil, so the dialogue stands at the hinge of the passion story.
The first criminal repeats the crowd's challenge, demanding that Jesus save himself and them. The second man answers differently. He fears God, admits the sentence is just, and says plainly that this man has done nothing wrong. Then he asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Notice what that request assumes: a dying man speaks to a dying man about a reign that lies beyond the cross. Luke's Gospel has repeatedly shown Jesus receiving sinners, and here that welcome reaches its sharpest point.
Jesus answers with a personal promise rather than a parable about reward: today, with me, in Paradise. The words are addressed to this man, in this hour, and they rest on who Jesus is, not on anything the man has done. Immediately Luke records the darkness over the land and the temple veil torn in two, signaling that this death opens access to God. The passage describes one man's last-hour mercy. It does not promise the same experience to every dying person, and it gives no reason to delay turning to Christ.
The centurion's confession and the crowd's response follow, but the promise itself is the center. Luke keeps the reader close to the cross, where a condemned man receives more than he asked.
Two criminals, two answers, one king
Luke tells us both men were hanged, which in Roman practice meant crucified, and he notes they were under the same condemnation. That detail matters. These two are not an innocent man and a guilty one standing apart; they share the same sentence and the same dying. The first criminal turns his pain into a challenge, and his words are an insult wearing the shape of a prayer: if you are the Christ, save yourself and us. He does not ask for mercy. He demands a rescue on his own terms, using the title Christ as a test rather than a confession.
The second man answers with a rebuke and then a confession. He asks whether the first even fears God, since both are under the same condemnation, and he agrees that their punishment is just, the due reward for their deeds. Then he says something he could only know by looking: this man has done nothing wrong. He does not claim innocence for himself. He calls Jesus Lord and asks to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom, which is a strange thing to ask of a man dying beside him. His hope rests on a kingdom still to come.
Jesus answers with the strongest assurance Luke records here: Assuredly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise. The promise is personal, spoken to this man, and it is dated today, not at some distant reckoning. Paradise in Scripture is the place of God's presence and rest, so Jesus is promising fellowship with himself beyond death. This is one man's rescue, told because it is true, not a rule that every deathbed turns out this way. It shows what kind of King he is, and it gives no one grounds to postpone turning to him.
A dying king opens paradise to a dying criminal
Luke sets this exchange at the place of mockery. Rulers and soldiers have already jeered, and the inscription above the cross announces Jesus as the King of the Jews. Both criminals join the insult at first, so the change in one of them is not a natural drift but a turn. He speaks as a man who fears God under a just sentence, and he says plainly that Jesus has done nothing wrong. That is a striking verdict from a man dying beside him, spoken while the crowd and the sign say otherwise.
The request itself carries the weight: remember me when you come into your Kingdom. A man being executed has no future to offer and no leverage to bargain with, yet he asks to be remembered in a reign he cannot see. He does not ask to be rescued from the cross. Jesus answers with a personal promise rather than a general principle: today, with me, in Paradise. The guarantee rests on who is speaking, the King named on the inscription, not on the man's record. Nothing here invites anyone to postpone turning to Christ; it shows how completely he receives those who have nothing to bring.
What follows confirms the moment. Darkness covers the land, the sun fails, and the temple veil is torn in two, marking this death as the opening of access to God. Luke has shown throughout his Gospel that Jesus receives sinners and that salvation comes to the lost, and here that pattern reaches its sharpest point. The promise is not a template for every deathbed, but it is a clear window into the heart of the one who spoke it. The same Lord who welcomed this man still welcomes those who turn to him.
Where readers differ on paradise and the dying criminal
The word Jesus uses is Paradise, and Luke gives it no definition here. Some careful readers take it to mean the immediate presence of God, so that the promise answers the criminal's request within hours. Others read it as a way of naming the coming kingdom and the place where the dead wait for resurrection, so the weight falls on certainty rather than timing. Both sides are working from the same sentence, and both want to honor it. What the text does not do is describe what the man will see or feel, and it does not settle the question by itself.
A second disagreement concerns this man's standing. He had no baptism, no membership, no record of good works, and no opportunity to make any restitution for his crimes. Some readers treat his case as a pattern for deathbed conversions; others see it as a unique sign at the cross, given while Jesus himself was dying under the same sentence. The difference matters pastorally, because the passage must not be turned into a reason to delay repentance. What stays central across these views is that this man was saved by Jesus' word and mercy alone.
Notice what Luke actually records. The man rebukes his companion, admits the sentence is just, and asks to be remembered when Jesus comes into his Kingdom. Jesus answers with a promise, not a program. He does not explain Paradise, does not describe the man's later experience, and does not make a rule about how or when God must save anyone. The authority in the scene belongs entirely to Jesus, who can promise a place beside him while dying himself. That is the comfort the text gives, and it gives no more than that.
The centurion's confession and the crowd's response belong to the verses that follow, and they are treated separately.
The king who grants paradise
Three voices speak at the cross, and each one turns on who Jesus is. The rulers and soldiers mock him: if he is the King of the Jews, let him save himself (23:37). The inscription above him says the same thing in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, though Pilate meant it as a charge, not a confession (23:38). One criminal picks up the taunt and pushes it further, asking Jesus to save himself and them (23:39). The mockery is not random. It aims at the claim that this dying man is a king. Luke lets the reader see the title hanging over a man who seems powerless to enforce it.
The other criminal answers differently. He rebukes his companion and asks whether he fears God, since they are under the same sentence (23:40). Then he says something remarkable: their punishment is just, but this man has done nothing wrong (23:41). That verdict is spoken by a condemned man, not a religious official, and it stands beside the inscription of kingship. He does not argue his own case or bargain. He asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom (23:42), which means he expects a kingdom beyond this death, from a man dying next to him.
Jesus answers with a promise that only a king could make: today you will be with me in Paradise (23:43). Notice what grounds it. Not the man's record, not a ritual, not a long preparation. It rests on Jesus' word and on the death he is about to die. The darkness and the torn temple veil that follow (23:44–45) show that this mercy is purchased, not waved through. This is a real gospel for the guilty, and it is also a warning against presuming on a deathbed. The Lord who saved this man invites sinners to come to him now, not later.
What faithful response looks like at the cross
Start with honesty, the kind the second criminal shows in Luke 23:41. He does not minimize his life or compare himself favorably to anyone. He says his punishment is deserved, and he says Jesus has done nothing wrong. That is a rare clarity under pressure. Faithful response begins there: naming sin as sin, agreeing with God's verdict, and refusing the excuse that our background or our record settles the matter. Fear of God, which he names in 23:40, is not terror that drives us away from Christ. It is the sober awareness that we stand before the one who sees everything and still invites us to speak.
Then turn to Christ himself. The criminal does not offer a tally of good works or lean on his religious heritage. He asks, in 23:42, to be remembered when Jesus comes into his kingdom. Notice how little he understands and how much he trusts. He asks a condemned man for a place in a kingdom. Our prayers can be that plain. Bring him your failure, your dying, your unfinished life, and ask him to remember you. And hear the shape of the answer in 23:43: personal, immediate, and certain. Jesus does not promise ease, health, or long life. He promises himself.
Let that acceptance become the ground you stand on, not a prize you chase. Because you are received, you can be honest about sin without collapsing, and you can fear God without fleeing him. This also shapes how we speak to people near death or in deep failure. Point them to the Savior who receives the guilty, and do not promise outcomes God has not promised. Nor should anyone read this account as permission to delay. The thief had minutes, not a plan. Today is the day to turn, and to speak that hope gently to others.
Biblical fidelity check
Luke sets the scene at the cross, where both criminals hang under the same sentence and hurl the same challenge: if you are the Christ, save yourself and us. Luke records the first man's insult as a test of Jesus' identity, and the second man answers it by rebuking his companion and confessing that the punishment is deserved while Jesus has done nothing wrong. He calls Jesus Lord and asks to be remembered in his Kingdom. The careful reading here faces two risks: treating the thief's cry as a model prayer that guarantees a deathbed conversion, and reading Jesus' answer as a full description of the afterlife. The text gives neither.
Evangelical readers differ over what Paradise means in 23:43. Some hear the immediate presence of God at death; others hear the coming kingdom and an intermediate state, since the term is not defined here. They also differ on whether this man's case is a norm for late conversions or a unique sign at the cross, and on whether the promise stresses conscious fellowship that day or the certainty of salvation. What stays central is that he was saved by Jesus' word and mercy alone, apart from works, and that Jesus has authority to promise Paradise. The passage describes no later experience and lays down no rule about how or when God must save anyone.
Related studies for Luke 23:39-43
The mockery around the cross and the inscription over Jesus repay closer study, as does what Luke's Gospel says elsewhere about Jesus' authority to forgive. These passages sit alongside this scene: Luke in the Bible: The Gospel That Seeks the Lost, Assured Paradise: What Jesus Promised the Thief on the Cross, Bible Verses About Paradise: What Scripture Actually Says and Deathbed Conversion: Does Luke 23:39-43 Prove It.
Frequently asked questions
Was the thief on the cross saved without being baptized and without doing any good works?
Yes, this passage shows the criminal beside Jesus saved by Jesus' own word, with no baptism and no good works mentioned. He could do nothing but hang there, yet he feared God, admitted his guilt, and asked Jesus to remember him. Jesus answered with a promise of Paradise that same day. This is a unique deathbed case, not a rule for everyone, but it shows salvation resting on Christ's mercy, not our record.
What did Jesus mean when he told the criminal, "today you will be with me in Paradise"?
Jesus meant that the dying criminal would be with him, that same day, in the place where God's people rest in his presence. The word pictures a garden, echoing the first home God made for humanity, now restored rather than lost. Jesus does not describe a location on a map; he promises nearness to himself, spoken to a man who had just asked to be remembered in his Kingdom. The promise rests on who Jesus is, not on the criminal's record.
Can someone be saved at the very last moment, and does this story promise that will happen?
Yes, this passage shows a dying criminal saved at the last moment, but it records what happened rather than promising it will happen for everyone. The man had nothing to offer, only a plea to be remembered, and Jesus answered with assurance of Paradise that same day. The story displays Christ's mercy toward a dying sinner; it does not tell anyone to presume on a deathbed. Luke gives this as good news about Jesus, not a guarantee to delay.
