Remember Me

"Remember me," he said.

He was a convicted criminal whose words came from the pinnacle of the Roman law machine-- the cross. His life was ending. His lungs were filling with blood and his bones were cracking with the dead weight of his body.

"Remember me."

Two words echoing the cry of insignificant humanity. We all ache to matter. We need to know we occur to someone. We require an assurance that we will last beyond our physical existence. He was a thief, one who spent his time trying to hide, to be unseen. Yet at the threshold of death he knew the need to be thought of.

He spoke to the man beside him. The pain of scourging had been superimposed on the pain of crucifixion so that it was all he could do to breathe. He had been so pushed beyond the limits of physical endurance that description only mocks the enormity. He was an innocent man willingly assuming Guilt.

"Remember me when you come into your Kingdom."

The thief asked to be remembered. He asked Jesus to remember him. Somehow he knew that here, incongruous though it seemed, was the only place this question could be answered. And what good would it do to be remembered by a dead man? They were traveling together to Death. The only question was which of them would get there first. He did not ask to be remembered by the soldiers. He did not plead with the lookers-on to pass his name down to their children. He asked to be remembered in the kingdom of a corpse. What good would it do?

Jesus answered, "This day, you will be with me in Paradise."

I will not remember you, he said. I will not need to. You're coming home with me. I'm taking you home.

We fear being forgotten, but how could he forget us? How could he forget the thief beside him, when the thief nailed him in place? How can he forget us? Our sins were on his shoulders as he hung.

"Remember me," comes the silent plea. I want someone to care. I want to be on someones mind. I don't need to be powerful or famous. I just want to be significant to someone.
I do not want to be forgotten. I do not want to be left behind.

When he was on the cross, there was not one thing forgotten. The things we wish we could forget were there in force. He took them all, and they crushed him, carrying him down with them to their place of origination.

And when he left, he forgot them. But he remembered us.
"This day you will be with me in Paradise."
Today you are coming home with me, where you belong. You couldn't come before, but I took care of it.
With Him in Paradise, always remembered.