“Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.”

-The Penitent Thief

I cannot speak of these things unthinkable. Heavy hangs my head that wears this crown of shame. I know that I have left a trail of utterances. Nobility is a stranger to me as I have been branded a legend among the people. Infamous am I. My history cannot cross my lips. My deeds cannot escape my tongue. Because of grief I have left behind. Because of my own. Because I cannot remember, or choose to forget.

What about Him? This man next to me. Does He wear the robe of guilt like I? He has been branded a legend as well. Famous is He. I have heard of His trail. Whereas I have carved my name with shame, He carved His into the hearts of the shamed. I have taken. He gave. I slithered through the veil of night. He brings its end. This I ask of myself- why is He here?

They abound before us. I have earned their scorn. I look into the eyes of those that I have wronged. I am their fool getting my just reward. As they chased me through the streets there was another among them. My sin. It finally caught up to me as well. It has placed me here upon this tree. A spectacle I have become. It has wrapped itself around me. Its death is corrupting me. Time is winding down. My crown drags me into the crimson undertow. His pierced His brow. It is so hard to breathe now.

I do not understand His purpose for being here. He is our antithesis. We are here because we have earned our nails. Our badge of dishonor. But Him? If what I have heard is true then He should not be on this tree between us. Why does He not defend His innocence? Why does He beg forgiveness for this injustice? Maybe He is The One that they spoke of. Could He be? There are two of us. The other chooses the company of fools. I choose to reach.

“Remember me…”

“Today you will be with me…”

The simplicity of my request, born from desperation. The simplicity of the answer, born from forgiveness. From love. From grace.

My head slings backward as the crown of shame falls below. Infamy no longer matters. Guilt no longer owns me. Sin no longer writes the lyric. My flesh is enslaved to the wood. But my soul is set free. Blood and dust stain my body. Within I am like snow. My name no longer matters. Wherever it has been etched. 

He has given up His life. He has given me mine, despite this eleventh hour. Time bowed in submission to His voice. Soon this shell will be broken. Soon it will grow cold. Soon it will be my tomorrow.

They branded me The Thief. He calls me Redeemed.