The story of the Good Thief, sometimes called Dismas in tradition, is one of the most memorable moments in the Gospels. It’s in Luke 23:39-43.
It was like he said, “Don’t you fear God? We’re getting what we deserve for our crimes, but this guy has done nothing wrong.” Then he turned to Jesus and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Those powerful words came from Jesus: “You’ll be in paradise with me today.”
A terrible exchange right in the middle of the worst suffering. Nails in hands and feet, body weight pulling down, breathing problems, crowds jeering, soldiers gambling for clothes. He sees something other people don’t. He recognizes Jesus’ innocence, admits his guilt, and places his trust in him as a king with a coming kingdom. He’s making a raw, last-minute confession of faith, and Jesus assures him right away that paradise awaits.
What stands out is how simple and direct it all is. He doesn’t clean up his life first, he doesn’t do good deeds to earn it, he doesn’t go through rituals. Jesus just acknowledges his wrong, sees Jesus for who He is, and asks to be remembered. No hesitation, no conditions, just grace poured out freely. No delay, no conditions.
It’s not about earning entry, it’s about being with Jesus. Paradise means a place of rest and blessing with God, like humanity lost long ago. Because the thief trusts in the One hanging right beside him, the One whose death is opening the way, he gets to go straight there.
Even at the end of the world, a single act of faith can be powerful. It doesn’t matter how far someone has gone astray or how little time is left. The door stays open. Jesus’ response highlights mercy rather than judgment, presence over punishment. The thief owns his sin, defends Jesus’ righteousness, and pleads for mercy because of who he is.
It’s hard to say what this means about baptism or good works. Even though the thief couldn’t do those things in his final hours, Jesus welcomed him. It’s a reminder that grace isn’t limited by our past or our circumstances. Salvation comes through faith in Christ, not what we can do. It’s a reminder that grace isn’t limited by what we do. A criminal on a cross can get paradise with a simple plea, so anyone can.
Also, there’s a contrast between the two thieves. One keeps mocking, stuck in bitterness. The other shifts, fears God, repents, believes. It’s a picture of two responses to Jesus: rejection or acceptance. The accepting one finds hope on the cross.
Ultimately, this conversation captures the essence of what Jesus came to do. The Good Thief’s confession becomes a promise for all of us: paradise is a reality for all of us if we trust Jesus, no matter what. It’s an incredible display of love from the cross, turning a place of execution into a place of glory.
