The first Christian

The first Christian was a felon.

Not Peter.
Not Paul.
Not your pastor.

A criminal. Hanging on a cross. Hours from death.

He beat everyone to paradise.

Think about that.

Before the disciples figured out the resurrection.
Before Paul got knocked off his horse.
Before the first church was planted.
Before a single creed was written.

A thief looked at Jesus and said, “Remember me.”

And Jesus said, “Today.”

The first Christian had no church.
No baptism.
No small group.
No Bible study.
No accountability partner.
No 6-week membership class.

He had nails in his wrists and six hours to live.

The first Christian never tithed.
Never served on the worship team.
Never read a single epistle.
Never debated Calvinism vs Arminianism.
Never posted a Bible verse on his timeline.

The first Christian was a convicted criminal who couldn’t lift his hands to pray.

And he’s been in paradise for 2,000 years.

Meanwhile.

You’ve been in church for 20 years.
You’ve read the Bible cover to cover.
You’ve got the theology down cold.
You’ve memorized the Roman Road.
You can articulate penal substitutionary atonement.

And you’re still wondering if that guy who prayed last week really “got it.”

The first Christian didn’t “get it.”

He got HIM.

That’s the difference.

He didn’t understand substitution.
He didn’t understand imputation.
He didn’t understand justification by faith alone.

He understood one thing:

The man next to him was a King.

And he wanted in.

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

That’s it.

That’s the whole conversion.

No altar call.
No counseling room.
No follow-up email.

Just a criminal, a King, and a request.

And here’s the part that should wreck you:

His theology was WRONG.

“When you come into your kingdom.”

He thought Jesus was about to take an earthly throne.
He didn’t understand the resurrection.
He didn’t understand the ascension.
He didn’t understand the second coming.

He got the timeline completely wrong.

And Jesus saved him anyway.

He didn’t correct his eschatology.
Didn’t hand him a doctrinal statement.
Didn’t say, “Well actually…”

He just said, “Today.”

The first Christian had bad theology and a good King.

Some of you have great theology and no King at all.

You know every doctrine.
You can defend every position.
You’ve won every argument.

And you’ve never once said “remember me” like you meant it.

The first Christian wasn’t impressive.

He was desperate.

And desperation got him further than your diploma.

2,000 years of church history.

Councils. Creeds. Confessions.
Seminaries. Denominations. Debates.

And the first one through the door was a dying criminal who couldn’t even fold his hands.

Makes you wonder if we’ve overcomplicated this.

The first Christian didn’t have a platform.
Didn’t have a following.
Didn’t have a ministry.
Didn’t have a book deal.
Didn’t have a podcast.

He had a cross and a question.

And that was enough.

You scrolling through X right now with your Reformed credentials and your theological hot takes…

The guy who beat you to paradise couldn’t read.

He didn’t know the five solas.
He didn’t know the five points.
He didn’t know the four spiritual laws.

He knew one thing:

He was dying.
And so was Jesus.
And Jesus was still a King.

That’s faith.

Not a system. A surrender.
Not knowledge. Recognition.
Not performance. Desperation.

The first Christian.

A felon.
A failure.
A man with hours to live and nothing to offer.

And he’s been home longer than anyone.

What’s your excuse?