Luke 23:32-33 KJV And there were also two other, malefactors, led with him to be put to death. [33] And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left.
l. INTRODUCTION -- CHOICES
-Life is full of choices.
-We choose our cars, our homes, our jobs, our classes. We choose to be good employees or poor employees. We choose to be good parents or bad parents. We choose to pay our bills or to allow the collector to come for them. Life is made up of choices.
-Some are not aware of it, but we choose the attitudes that dictate our lives. Our attitudes are not so much based upon our circumstances as they are our choice to either be positive or negative in those circumstances. Success has never been part of the life that is constantly negative.
-The choice of attitude serves up several lessons for us:
• Our attitude determines our approach to life.
• Our attitude determines our relationships with people.
• Our attitude is the only difference between success and failure.
• Our attitude at the beginning of a task will affect the outcome more than anything else.
• Our attitude can turn our problems into blessings.
• Our attitude can give us an uncommonly positive perspective.
• Our attitude is not is not automatically good just because we are filled with the Spirit.
George Moore -- “The difficulty in life is the choice.”
-God chooses what we go through we choose how we go through it.
ll. TWO BROTHERS. . . TWO CHOICES (PP-2)
It very well could have been yesterday that this incident occurred. It was at least 10 years ago, probably 12 or 13 years ago. I walked into Bro. Patterson’s office and found a little box full of books. It was before the office had been remodeled, there were no paneled walls, only cinder block. There were no nice bookshelves that lined the walls as they do now. But in that little box full of books were two books that I can still remember. One was by Alan Redpath entitled The Making of a Man of God, a devotional commentary on the life of David. That is the one that I left in the box because I had a copy of it already. The other was a little book that was a collection of very famous stories. There was dust and cobwebs on it but I dusted it off and I have read through it over the years and these stories always tell far more than what meets the eye. It’s cover is orange and it is written by Paul Aurandt. Just yesterday (8/20/05), I ran across this story again that I am about to relate to you.
The story is told of two brothers. One of them would carry a letter to the grave that could have set the record straight, but I will tell you about that later.
There was a man whose name was Edwin Thomas, a master of the stage (PP-3). During the latter half of the 1800’s, this small man with a huge voice had few rivals. Debuting in Richard lll at the age of fifteen, he found unrivalled success with his abilities to act out the great dramas of Shakespeare. In New York City, for one hundred consecutive nights he performed Hamlet and even in London where the tough British critics lived he one favor in their hearts with his acting skills.
When it came to difficulties in life, Edwin Thomas was quite acquainted with those also. Edwin Thomas was not alone for he had two brothers, John and Junius. They too, were actors, although they were not nearly as gifted as was Edwin. In 1863, the three brothers performed together in Julius Caesar (PP-4). The fact that Edwin’s brother took the role of Brutus was almost an eerie foreboding of what was to occur in just in the brother’s lives in just two years. One little decision would not only affect the brothers but an entire nation.
This same John who played the assassin in Julius Caesar is the same John who would play the role of assassin in Ford’s Theatre. On a dark April night in 1865 with the Civil War pulling at the heart and soldiers of a divided nation, John walked into the theater and fired a bullet at the head of Abraham Lincoln. . . . See, the last name of the brothers was Booth—Edwin Thomas Booth and John Wilkes Booth. (PP-5)
That night would mark Edwin forever. He would never be the same again. The shame from his brother’s crime drove him into retirement. He might have never returned to the stage had it not been for a twist of fate at a New Jersey train station. Edwin was awaiting his coach when a well-dressed young man, pressed by the crowd, lost his footing and fell between the platform and the moving train. Without hesitation, Edwin locked a leg around the railing, grabbed the man, and pulled him to safety. After the sighs of relief, the young man recognized the famous Edwin Booth.
Edwin, however, did not recognize the young man whom he had rescued. That knowledge would come to him a few weeks later in a letter, a letter that he would carry in his pocket to his grave. A letter from General Adams Budeau, chief secretary to General Ulysess S. Grant. A letter thanking Edwin Booth for saving the life of the child of an American hero, Abraham Lincoln. How ironic that while one brother killed the president, the other brother saved the president’s son. The boy that was yanked to safety was none other than Robert Todd Lincoln. (Adapted from Paul Aurandt, Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story and Max Lucado, He Chose the Nails) (This story is true: http://www.disarranging.com/review/archives/001252.php)
lll. THE AREA OF OUR TEXT -- LUKE 23
-Luke 23 continues the sad saga of the Lord on His way to the Cross. He has walked the halls of Pilate’s courts, a man who did not know what to do with the King (PP-6). He has been exposed to the cruelty of Herod and once again sent back to Pilate. From here He walks on to the Hill of the Skull, Golgotha. (PP-7)
-It is here that the soldiers quickly pin him to the ground and do their work quickly (PP-8). They nail Him to the tree that is to be his way of death. In addition, two other criminals are crucified with the Lord on that day. Some even make the ties of these two men to the band of thieves that Barabbas had led.
-Barabbas had been pardoned earlier in the day. He had been freed from his debt to society. Now only his men are left to face the hands of the executioners.
-As with all men, again choices face us in life. The two thieves, by their own right, represent every man who ever approaches the Christ.
A. The Scoffing Cross (PP-9)
-The cross held one thief who cried out to the Lord:
Luke 23:39 KJV And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us.
-Satan took his cue and entered into this thief. Hell was let loose momentarily on that day never before or since. He cursed, he spat, he blasphemed, he raved, and he gnashed his teeth. The awful torture of crucifixion brought to him the absolute insanity that he displayed.
-He was a rogue at heart and would be one until he made his final exit of this world. Yet, he was not alone for the Evangelist Mark declares:
Mark 15:31-32 KJV Likewise also the chief priests mocking said among themselves with the scribes, He saved others; himself he cannot save. [32] Let Christ the King of Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe. And they that were crucified with him reviled him.
-(PP-10) The cry of the maddened thief, “If thou be the Son of God. . . . .” That is the voice of unbelief. If. . . it has enough venom in it to poison the soul. Was there ever any “if” about the Christ being the Son of God?
• The water was turned to wine.
• The widow’s son was raised.
• The lepers were healed.
• The blind saw and deaf heard.
• The pointed, pungent words of the sermons and the teachings.
• The seas put a hand over it’s lip when they were commanded to be still.
• The dead who got up were now watching Him die.
• The sun hid it’s face in a veil of darkness when He died.
-IF. . . . . . IF. . . . . . IF . . . . . . IF. . . . . . thou be the Son of God. There was no question about it! He was the very God, the Creator robed in flesh.
-The first thief was on the scoffing cross. Such is the enmity of the natural heart against the Laws and Work of Jesus Christ.
Romans 8:7-8 KJV Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. [8] So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.
-Some are exposed to the love of the Savior, others even experience relief from a heavy heart, but in some lonely hour of duress, there is that internal failure. Then the words of mockery began.
-The world wants a soft Christ, it desires an easy Christ, an undemanding Christ, but the world is not interested in a Christ desiring to deliver them from their failure. There has always been that war between the Crosses.
-There are times that the scoffing cross encroaches on the sacred precincts of the house of God. The scoffing cross never realizes the importance of a commitment. It never understands the precepts of holiness. It never full actualizes the reason for prayer and fasting. The scoffing cross never full understands the intent of separation from the world. It never really is able to shake of the pulls and whims of the flesh. The scoffer is always looking for one more loop-hole to justify his own sins and unbelief.
-That is the difficulty and the perplexities of these two crosses, of these two choices, men either become scoffers or they become worshipers.
1. Dying Men’s Words
-The lonely hours preceding death has brought to life some of the most piercing words ever spoken.
Hobbes -- “Were I master of all the world, I would give it all to live one day longer.”
Sir Francis Newport -- “Wretch that I am, whither shall I fly from this breast? What will become of me? Oh, that I were to lie upon a fire that is never quenched a thousand years, to purchase the favor of God and to be reconciled to him again! Oh eternity! Oh eternity! Who can discover the abyss of eternity? Who can paraphrase these words: forever and ever?
-No pain can be compared to remorse. That is the horror of unbelief.
B. The Worshiping Cross (PP-11)
-The second thief also had some words to say.
Luke 23:40-42 KJV But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? [41] And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss. [42] And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.
-Look at the defender. Sometimes the most bitter herbs of life, the most bitter trials, becomes the best treatment, the best therapy for the soul. It is in that hour that we become worshipers.
-Again, that is the difficulty and the perplexity of these two crosses, of these two choices, men either become scoffers or they become worshipers.
-The worshiping cross is a repenting cross.
-The evangelist Luke has more insight into the details of the life of the Lord than any of the other Gospels. It is here that perhaps he enters into a zone all of his own. This thief, this defender, this member of the band of Barabbas, knew of Jesus Christ.
-Countless times, he had been disguised in the crowd, a fisherman, a shepherd, a tax collector, along with Barabbas. Maybe casing out a place, maybe looking for someone in the crowd to take advantage of, someone to rob, to harass. Yet, even though the thief’s heart was hard, he was not immune from the words and works of Jesus Christ.
• In his early days, he could have been one of John the Baptist’s disciples.
• He could have been one of the Lord’s own disciples, not one of the twelve, but one of the seventy.
• He may have heard John the Baptist say: “Behold the Lamb of God.”
• He may have been in the multitude who heard the Sermon on the Mount.
-It was those memories that caused him to become the defender on that day. Be a robber in cahoots with Barabbas but you will not forget the mountain-sides, nor the supper-tables of Galilee.
-This man and many more like him, went back to their farms, their merchandise, their toll booths, and this man to his robber’s cave. But they took with them memories, and visions, and hearts, and consciences, which they could never forget.
-That is the way it is with memory. I remember my first altars. (PP-12) I remember my first times to actively feel the presence of God. I remember seeking God for His will in my life. It is those memories that cause us to seek God (at times) with a greater intensity than ever.
-Still despite our own memories there is that time of hesitation and we shrink back from pulling down the walls that fill our hearts. We do not want to become a crying thief.
-I would submit to you here that there have been times in my walk with God that I have stood in the presence of God, with it’s intensity, with it’s probing conviction, alone, embarrassed, but repentant and hungry for change. I have been embarrassed by my pride. I have been ashamed of my ambition. I have been humiliated by my lack of self-discipline. I have been dismayed by my lack of personal devotion. I have been disheartened over my lack of concern for the lost.
-Despite all of that, still there was heavy hesitation to allow God to do the real work that He wanted to do.
-I reasoned: I have stolen nothing. . . when in fact I had committed the greatest felony by robbing God of time, of my talent, and of my service.
-I have reasoned at times: I don’t feel like a sinner. . . . that may be. Yet, walk along the cliffs in the mountains and you will notice the sunlight and the flowers at the mouth of the cave but take a torch and go into the darkness and before you have gone very far, you will see the flashing eye of some wild thing or hear the hiss of the serpent.
-That is the perfect environment of the heart in the sunlight of worldliness, but as I take the torch of God’s truth, and go down into the deep caverns of the heart, I see the bristling horrors of humanity and hear the rattling of fangs.
Jeremiah 17:9-10 KJV The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? [10] I the LORD search the heart, I try the reins, even to give every man according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his doings.
-If we could but just see the real condition of the sinner before God, it would move all men.
-The second thief watched and waited. He watched and heard the Lord say, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” That sentence did more to numb the agony of body and mind that the thief was experiencing than all the wine mingled with myrrh could have done. It broke the thief’s hard heart. He remembered, somewhere in the past, a calling Savior, a crying Savior.
-There was no “if” in the mind of the worshiping thief, he flung himself at the foot of the middle cross. It became a pardoned cross, it became a worshiping cross, it became a believing cross.
-It is this cross that leads to pathway of contentment, for we hear the Lord say: “This day, thou shalt be with me in Paradise.”
-On this day, he became the man with the greatest faith.
• He was a greater believer than Abraham, the father of believers.
• Greater than David and Isaiah.
• Greater than that of Peter and James and John who had all fled at the crucial hour.
• All of the faith and hope in the heart of Peter had died.
• All of the faith and hope in the heart of John had died.
• All of the faith and hope in the heart of Mary Magdalene had died.
• But not in the heart of this thief. It was on this day that his faith had been the only faith in existence.
-The middle cross overpowers the two crosses. It will overpower unbelief with wrath. But it will overpower sin with mercy. . . . until that Cross turns into a throne. (PP-13)
lll. CONCLUSION
-I am aware that in every service that we come to worship that there are those who feel like that their mistakes outweigh the strength of God. Their poor decisions, poor judgment, their lack of commitment is unworthy of the touch of God.
-Who cares if I quit? Who cares if I give up? Who cares if I become the scoffer? Who cares if I walk out of here and never come back?
Who really cared? His was a routine admission to busy Bellevue Hospital. A charity case, one among hundreds. A bum from the Bowery with a slashed throat. The Bowery. . . last stop before the morgue. A synonym of filth, loneliness, cheap wine, and disease.
The details of what happened in the predawn of that chilly winter’s morning were fuzzy. The nurse probably shrugged it off. She had seen thousands and she was sure to see thousands more. Would it have made any difference if she and those who treated him had known who he was? Probably so.
His recent past was the antithesis of this earlier years. The Bowery became the dead-end street of an incredible life. But all that was over. A twenty-five-cent-a-night flophouse had rooms you hear about, but never want to see. . . full of stinking humanity too miserable to describe. He was one among many. Like all the rest, he now lived only to drink. His health was gone and he was starving. On that icy January morning before the sun had crept over New York’s skyline, a shell of a man who looked twice his age staggered to the washbasin and fell. The basin toppled and shattered.
He was found lying in a heap, naked and bleeding from a deep gash in his throat. His forehead was badly bruised and he was semiconscious. A doctor was called, no one special, this was the Bowery. He used black sewing thread somebody found to suture the wound. That would do. All the while the bum begged for a drink. A buddy shared the bottom of a rum bottle to calm his nerves.
He was dumped in a paddy wagon and dropped off at Bellevue Hospital, where he would languish, unable to eat for three days. . . and die. Still unknown.
A friend seeking him was directed to the local morgue. There, among dozens of other colorless, nameless corpses with tags on their toes, he was identified. When they scraped together his belongings, they found a ragged, dirty coat with thirty-eight cents in one pocket and a scrap of paper in the other. All his earthly goods. Enough coins for another night in the Bowery and five words, “Dear friends and gentle hearts.” Almost like the words of a song, someone thought. But who cared?
Why in the world would a forgotten drunk carry around a line of lyrics? Maybe he still believed he had it in him. Maybe that derelict with the body of a bum still had the heart of a genius. For once upon a time, long before his tragic death at age thirty-eight, he had written songs that literally made the whole world sing, like: Camptown Races, Oh! Susanna!, Beautiful Dreamer, and My Old Kentucky Home. Along with two hundred others that have become deeply rooted in our rich American heritage. Thanks to Stephen Foster, whom nobody knew, and for whom nobody cared. (Adapted from Charles Swindoll, Come Before Winter) (PP-14)
The Touch of the Master’s Hand
‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it was scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar”; Then, “Two!” “Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three--”But no,
From the back of the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand
What changed it’s worth.” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of a master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,”“ a glass of wine,”
A game--and he travels on.
He’s “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost gone.
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never quite can understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s Hand.
(Myra Brooks Welch)
-Almost gone. Almost about to believe the lie that you have told yourself about being too cold for God to touch. Almost about to believe that you situation is beyond the reach of God’s hand. Almost ready to believe that God no longer looks for prodigals. Almost ready to believe that God no longer walks on stormy seas. Almost ready to believe that God is not in the back of the boat.
-God has a purpose for your life. So afraid that you will not be found. So afraid that the sun is fading in your life. No way to retrace your steps. You must start from here. Troubled mind and baffled heart, you wander how you ever got this far, leave to Him, He will lead you home. Hear Him calling. . . . . “I’ll lead you home. . . . .”
Philip Harrelson
