April 5th, 2026
by Albert Cross
by Albert Cross
Three Responses to the Cross That Still Echo Today
When we think about Easter, our minds naturally drift to the empty tomb, the resurrection, the victory over death. But before there was an empty tomb, there was a cross. And at that cross, humanity revealed itself in ways that still resonate through time.
The scene at Calvary wasn't just about what Jesus did—though that remains the cornerstone of our faith. It was also about how people responded to Him. In those final hours, as Jesus hung between heaven and earth, three distinct responses emerged. Remarkably, these same responses persist today whenever someone encounters the truth of the gospel.
The Passing: Close Yet Unchanged
Picture the scene: crosses positioned not on some distant hilltop, but alongside a well-traveled road. This wasn't accidental. Crucifixion was designed as public spectacle, a warning to passersby about the consequences of defying Rome.
Matthew 27 tells us that people passed by, some wagging their heads in mockery, others simply watching. Soldiers sat nearby, keeping guard. A great multitude followed, while others stood observing from a distance. All these people were physically near the cross, yet many remained spiritually untouched by what was happening.
Some were completely unaware of the gravity of the moment. They saw a man dying—perhaps three men dying—and kept moving. Their lives continued unchanged. They had places to go, things to do, concerns that seemed more pressing than this execution.
Others were informed but wrong. The religious leaders mocked Jesus, saying, "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!" They had access to prophecies. They'd witnessed miracles. Yet they fundamentally misunderstood who Jesus was.
The tragic irony? Even in their mockery, they were fulfilling ancient prophecy. Psalm 22, written centuries before crucifixion was even invented, predicted: "All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads."
This is what Jesus described in John 3:19—"Light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light." The light was shining brilliantly before them, but they chose to move on, to continue in familiar darkness.
Today, this response remains common. People hear the gospel and keep walking. They're not necessarily hostile; they're simply indifferent. The message doesn't penetrate. They're good with their current trajectory, thank you very much.
The Persisting: Rebellion in the Face of Truth
Now shift your focus to the crosses themselves. Jesus wasn't alone. He hung between two criminals—not petty thieves, but hardened bandits, violent men who had earned their death sentences through persistent criminality.
One of these men, even in his dying moments, mocked Jesus: "If you are the Christ, save yourself and us!" Here was someone closer to Jesus than anyone else in that crowd, yet completely unchanged by proximity.
This criminal represents something profound about human nature: our capacity for rebellion even when faced with undeniable truth. He was getting exactly what his actions deserved—the wages of sin, which is death—yet he refused to acknowledge his own guilt or Jesus's innocence.
He wasn't looking for salvation; he wanted relief. He didn't seek forgiveness; he wanted escape. There's a crucial difference.
This mirrors what we see throughout Scripture. Isaiah reminds us, "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way." When we know the right path but deliberately choose another, that's rebellion. And this criminal, in his final hours, persisted in that rebellion.
John 3:18 captures this sobering reality: "Whoever does not believe is condemned already." The condemnation wasn't coming; it had already arrived. This man's fate wasn't determined by Jesus's crucifixion but by his own choices, his own rejection of truth.
It's startling how people can stand on the edge of eternity, faced with divine truth, and still refuse Christ. Yet it happens constantly. Pride, self-sufficiency, unwillingness to admit need—these barriers persist across generations.
The Persuaded: Faith in the Darkest Hour
Then there was the other criminal. Same cross. Same Savior. Completely different response.
This man looked at his companion and rebuked him: "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong."
In this moment of brutal honesty, he acknowledged three crucial truths: his own guilt, his deserved punishment, and Jesus's innocence. Then he did something extraordinary. Looking at a dying man, he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Think about that. Jesus was dying. There was no visible kingdom, no crown, no throne—only thorns, nails, and wood. Yet this criminal saw past the physical reality to spiritual truth. He recognized that death wasn't the end for Jesus, that somehow this innocent man would enter His kingdom.
This is faith—"the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Without theological training, without a lifetime of religious practice, this man grasped what the religious leaders missed entirely.
And Jesus's response? "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise."
Not tomorrow. Not after you've cleaned up your life. Not after you've proven yourself. Today.
Jesus didn't require the criminal to promise reform, to undergo baptism, to join a synagogue, or to perform good works. He simply received the man's faith.
This fulfills what Jesus said earlier in John 5:24: "Whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life." Has—present tense. Not will have someday, but possesses right now.
The Same Cross, The Same Choice
These three responses—the passing, the persisting, and the persuaded—weren't unique to that day. They represent the spectrum of human response to the gospel throughout history.
The cross strips everything down to what matters most. It's not about religious systems, performance, or credentials. It's about people and Jesus. It's about how we respond when confronted with the truth that God loved the world so much He gave His only Son.
Isaiah 53:12 prophesied that the Messiah would be "numbered with the transgressors." Jesus hung between criminals not because He couldn't escape, but because He chose to be there. He was numbered with transgressors so that transgressors—people like that criminal, people like us—could be saved.
The beauty of the gospel is its simplicity. Ephesians 2:8-9 declares, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works."
The criminal on the cross couldn't work his way to salvation. He had no time, no opportunity, no clean slate to present. He had only faith—belief that Jesus was who He claimed to be.
And it was enough.
Where Do You Stand?
The question echoes across the centuries: Which response is yours?
Are you passing by, hearing the message but remaining unchanged? Are you persisting in rebellion, close to truth but refusing to embrace it? Or have you been persuaded, recognizing your need and Jesus's sufficiency?
The same cross that stood on Calvary still stands before every person. The same Savior who died there still offers the same salvation. The responses remain the same, but the choice is always individual.
Romans 6:23 reminds us that "the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
When we think about Easter, our minds naturally drift to the empty tomb, the resurrection, the victory over death. But before there was an empty tomb, there was a cross. And at that cross, humanity revealed itself in ways that still resonate through time.
The scene at Calvary wasn't just about what Jesus did—though that remains the cornerstone of our faith. It was also about how people responded to Him. In those final hours, as Jesus hung between heaven and earth, three distinct responses emerged. Remarkably, these same responses persist today whenever someone encounters the truth of the gospel.
The Passing: Close Yet Unchanged
Picture the scene: crosses positioned not on some distant hilltop, but alongside a well-traveled road. This wasn't accidental. Crucifixion was designed as public spectacle, a warning to passersby about the consequences of defying Rome.
Matthew 27 tells us that people passed by, some wagging their heads in mockery, others simply watching. Soldiers sat nearby, keeping guard. A great multitude followed, while others stood observing from a distance. All these people were physically near the cross, yet many remained spiritually untouched by what was happening.
Some were completely unaware of the gravity of the moment. They saw a man dying—perhaps three men dying—and kept moving. Their lives continued unchanged. They had places to go, things to do, concerns that seemed more pressing than this execution.
Others were informed but wrong. The religious leaders mocked Jesus, saying, "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!" They had access to prophecies. They'd witnessed miracles. Yet they fundamentally misunderstood who Jesus was.
The tragic irony? Even in their mockery, they were fulfilling ancient prophecy. Psalm 22, written centuries before crucifixion was even invented, predicted: "All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads."
This is what Jesus described in John 3:19—"Light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light." The light was shining brilliantly before them, but they chose to move on, to continue in familiar darkness.
Today, this response remains common. People hear the gospel and keep walking. They're not necessarily hostile; they're simply indifferent. The message doesn't penetrate. They're good with their current trajectory, thank you very much.
The Persisting: Rebellion in the Face of Truth
Now shift your focus to the crosses themselves. Jesus wasn't alone. He hung between two criminals—not petty thieves, but hardened bandits, violent men who had earned their death sentences through persistent criminality.
One of these men, even in his dying moments, mocked Jesus: "If you are the Christ, save yourself and us!" Here was someone closer to Jesus than anyone else in that crowd, yet completely unchanged by proximity.
This criminal represents something profound about human nature: our capacity for rebellion even when faced with undeniable truth. He was getting exactly what his actions deserved—the wages of sin, which is death—yet he refused to acknowledge his own guilt or Jesus's innocence.
He wasn't looking for salvation; he wanted relief. He didn't seek forgiveness; he wanted escape. There's a crucial difference.
This mirrors what we see throughout Scripture. Isaiah reminds us, "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way." When we know the right path but deliberately choose another, that's rebellion. And this criminal, in his final hours, persisted in that rebellion.
John 3:18 captures this sobering reality: "Whoever does not believe is condemned already." The condemnation wasn't coming; it had already arrived. This man's fate wasn't determined by Jesus's crucifixion but by his own choices, his own rejection of truth.
It's startling how people can stand on the edge of eternity, faced with divine truth, and still refuse Christ. Yet it happens constantly. Pride, self-sufficiency, unwillingness to admit need—these barriers persist across generations.
The Persuaded: Faith in the Darkest Hour
Then there was the other criminal. Same cross. Same Savior. Completely different response.
This man looked at his companion and rebuked him: "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong."
In this moment of brutal honesty, he acknowledged three crucial truths: his own guilt, his deserved punishment, and Jesus's innocence. Then he did something extraordinary. Looking at a dying man, he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Think about that. Jesus was dying. There was no visible kingdom, no crown, no throne—only thorns, nails, and wood. Yet this criminal saw past the physical reality to spiritual truth. He recognized that death wasn't the end for Jesus, that somehow this innocent man would enter His kingdom.
This is faith—"the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Without theological training, without a lifetime of religious practice, this man grasped what the religious leaders missed entirely.
And Jesus's response? "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise."
Not tomorrow. Not after you've cleaned up your life. Not after you've proven yourself. Today.
Jesus didn't require the criminal to promise reform, to undergo baptism, to join a synagogue, or to perform good works. He simply received the man's faith.
This fulfills what Jesus said earlier in John 5:24: "Whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life." Has—present tense. Not will have someday, but possesses right now.
The Same Cross, The Same Choice
These three responses—the passing, the persisting, and the persuaded—weren't unique to that day. They represent the spectrum of human response to the gospel throughout history.
The cross strips everything down to what matters most. It's not about religious systems, performance, or credentials. It's about people and Jesus. It's about how we respond when confronted with the truth that God loved the world so much He gave His only Son.
Isaiah 53:12 prophesied that the Messiah would be "numbered with the transgressors." Jesus hung between criminals not because He couldn't escape, but because He chose to be there. He was numbered with transgressors so that transgressors—people like that criminal, people like us—could be saved.
The beauty of the gospel is its simplicity. Ephesians 2:8-9 declares, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works."
The criminal on the cross couldn't work his way to salvation. He had no time, no opportunity, no clean slate to present. He had only faith—belief that Jesus was who He claimed to be.
And it was enough.
Where Do You Stand?
The question echoes across the centuries: Which response is yours?
Are you passing by, hearing the message but remaining unchanged? Are you persisting in rebellion, close to truth but refusing to embrace it? Or have you been persuaded, recognizing your need and Jesus's sufficiency?
The same cross that stood on Calvary still stands before every person. The same Savior who died there still offers the same salvation. The responses remain the same, but the choice is always individual.
Romans 6:23 reminds us that "the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
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