Luke 23:47-49
Well, as we come to God’s Word this morning and anticipate the Lord’s table at the end of the service, we really come to a fitting portion in Luke 23 that we have been studying through, of several reactions to the cross of Jesus Christ, reactions to his death for sins. So you can turn your Bible to Luke 23, and we will start by reading the account of Jesus’ death, starting in verse 44, and we will see here how the centurion, the crowd, and then Jesus’ followers responded to the finished work of the atonement through Jesus’ death.
Luke 23 starting in verse 44, “And it was now about the sixth hour, and darkness fell over the whole land until the ninth hour, because the sun was obscured. And the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two. And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ Having said this, he breathed his last. Now when the centurion saw what had happened, he began praising God, saying, ‘Certainly this man was righteous.’ And all the crowds who came together for this spectacle, when they observed what had happened, were returning, beating their chests. And all his acquaintances and the women who accompanied him from Galilee were standing at a distance watching these things.”
In the first three hours on the cross, from 9:00 a.m. to noon, this is prior to the darkness that God caused to cover this land, Jesus had spoken during that first three hours three times, three sayings of the cross that are recorded in the Gospels. Two of those three sayings are recorded by Luke. “Jesus said,” in Luke 23:34, “‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’” And then in verse 43, another saying, “He said to the penitent criminal, ‘Truly I say to you, today you shall be with me in Paradise.’” The third saying is not here, but it is written in John’s Gospel, and that saying is when Jesus put his mother into the care of the Apostle John.
After these sayings and after that first three hours from 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon, darkness fell. And it was a supernatural darkness, which if it was anything like the plague that fell upon Egypt during the time of the Exodus, it was a darkness, as the expression goes, a darkness that could be felt. This got everybody’s attention. When darkness lifted, when God lifted that supernatural darkness, after that three hours at 3:00 p.m., all eyes are on Jesus, all ears are listening.
And Jesus said four more things, another four sayings. In Matthew 27:46, he said “‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachtani,’ which is ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” He’s not giving up on God. He doesn’t think God has given up on him in a sense, but he speaks the first line of Psalm 22, Psalm 22:1, which is a messianic psalm. He’s pointing everybody at the cross to go and read that psalm and see its prophecy to this crucifixion that’s taking place, to understand the meaning of it.
He said in John 19:28, another saying, “in order that the scripture might be fulfilled,” John says, “Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’” And then two verses later, he received the drink that they gave him, and he said, “‘Tetelestai,’” “It is finished.” The final word from the cross after all these is what Luke has recorded here for us in Luke 23:46. “‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ And then saying this, he breathed his last.”
Seven sayings from the cross. The first word was a prayer for forgiveness. The second was a promise of Paradise. The third secured continued care for physical needs for the ones he loved. The fourth pointed back to a prophesied crucifixion. The fifth showed the physical need of this thirsty man. The sixth announced the end of his perfect work. And the seventh expressed his perfect trust in God.
In these seven sayings of Jesus from the cross, we really have encapsulated there the consummate, complete testimony of his entire life, one perfect life that he lived before God, his mission finished, his atoning work and purpose fulfilled, God’s redemption accomplished, ready to be applied to his people by the Spirit. When I think about a, a life well-lived, lived unto God as we see Jesus has lived his life here, we recognize on Monday of this past week, the Lord took home one of his choice servants, took one of his servants to heaven. A spiritual hero of ours, John MacArthur entered into paradise at 6:17 p.m. California time.
And no doubt as he entered into his eternal home and into his rest, he heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful slave. You were faithful with a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.”
I mention John MacArthur just to recognize that, like our Lord, he wanted to give a faithful life of service to God, and that’s true of every Christian. I mentioned John MacArthur. I can mention many saints throughout history, but we could ask this question of ourselves. I ask this question of you. How do you want to enter into glory? Do you want to slouch into paradise, kind of barely making it?
Or would you enter into your eternal home in full confidence, knowing you will stand before the Lord Jesus Christ and face him, having run your race to the very end, knowing full well that you finished your course, that you lived your life in obedience to his Word, that you lived for his glory, that you worked with all of his energy that he gives you to render a life of service unto him, not having squandered the time and resources that he’s given you, but living a full life of service to the glory of God.
The Apostle Paul could say at the end of his life in 2 Timothy 4, verse 7, “I have fought the good fight. I’ve finished the race. I have kept the faith. Reserved for me in the future is the crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but also to all who’ve loved his appearing.”
So the Apostle Paul, John MacArthur, all who have loved and who currently watch for “the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ,” they demonstrate their love for him. They demonstrate their active watchfulness by running their race to the end, by finishing the course, by every day lived to his glory. They do what they see in our Savior, the one who said, “It is finished.”
In the text before us today, Luke shows us three reactions or responses to the death of Jesus at the cross. In verses 47-49, we see three responses. In each response, the response of the centurion, that of the crowd, that of the followers of Jesus, what we see in each one is really what amounts to a good start. And Luke leaves it ambiguous and leaves it kind of as an open question: What will happen in each case? Because it’s not how the race starts, but it’s how it ends, right? So what becomes of the centurion and the crowd or the friends and the followers of Jesus? Will they finish well?
Well, in each individual case, only God knows. Time will tell. Time did tell the tale. But this really is a good question for each and every one of us, isn’t it? In fact, if you want an immediate application of this sermon to your life, let what follows here in the text and some of our reflections here in the text, let this inform your heart as you prepare your heart and your mind for the Lord’s table at the end of the service.
Let this inform you and your mind and your heart so that you have a fitting and proper self-examination before you partake of communion. Isn’t that what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11? “Let us examine ourselves so that we don’t partake in an unworthy manner, but let us come before this table in full confidence and full assurance with our hearts right before him.”
Isn’t that why we regularly partake of the Lord’s Supper, so that we are reminded of his death and resurrection, his death for sins, to remind us what our life is all about? Isn’t it so that he, through this ordinance, gives us grace and strengthens us for the next day and the day after that and the week after that, so that we live a life of glory to him?
We’ve all had a good start on the Christian life. Like the centurion and the crowd and the followers of Jesus, we have confessed the truth about Christ. We have felt remorse over our sins. We’ve stood with the truth. We’ve stood with Christ, stood with his people.
But will we continue to the end? Will we run our race? Will we finish well? Let what we go through here today, let this spur you on to excel still more. And if you have wandered off the race course, and you were wandering off into the woods, and you’re not doing anything, you’re living your life for yourself, you’ve become distracted, discouraged, somehow forgetting who you are and whose you are, let what we cover today spur you on to repentance and faith, to run your race and finish well.
Here’s a first point we see in the centurion in verse 47. This, we could title this point: From confession to conversion. From confession to conversion. The centurion made a true confession about Jesus, but would that confession lead to his conversion? It’s an open question. We really can’t tell from the text whether he was truly converted or whether he just made this astounding, remarkable confession.
Paul writes in Romans 10:9-10 of the believer’s confession. He says, “If you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart a man believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation.” Whatever the future held for this centurion, we know for sure that this man’s confession is truly remarkable. Let’s consider why.
These centurions were remarkable men. They’re men that I just didn’t instinctively admire and look up to. They were the grizzled veterans of the Roman army, the NCOs, the non-commissioned officers. Probably this man would have had 10-15 years experience at least, maybe even as much as 20 years of experience in war-fighting. Rome prosecuted wars all over the world, in many theaters across many lands. So these centurions were men accustomed to battle, making hard decisions. They had soldiers underneath them that they cared for, wanted to see protected, well-provisioned.
They were considerate men. They saw upfront in real life, in real time the consequences of ill preparedness. They saw the consequences with not being well-provisioned. They saw the consequences of bad leadership. These were men were caring, concerned for their men. They knew that a good regiment of soldiers in, under their command could take any hill. And the men underneath a man like this, they’d follow them to the ends of the earth.
These men were also no strangers to death. They’d seen death all over the world, in many ways. They were very familiar with it. Men who were promoted to the centurion rank and men that had proven themselves. They had a good rapport with the men under them. They gained and maintained their respect. This centurion had the respect of those above him and below him. He’d seen it all. He’d been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
The Gospels and the Book of Acts always present centurions, and they show a number of centurions, but always they present them in a respectful light. And I would say on the whole they show them as spiritually sensitive men. We remember the centurion in Luke 7, a man who trusted Jesus implicitly to heal his sick and dying slave. He had a concern for the man underneath him, his own slave. He trusted Jesus to heal him and help him recover so that he didn’t die. And Jesus said of that centurion, “‘Not even in Israel have I found such great faith.’” He commended the man.
It’s no wonder, then, maybe, that the first Gentile convert to Christianity was a centurion. In Acts chapter 10, Peter met with him, a man named Cornelius. Later in Acts, we know that centurions played pivotal roles in protecting the Apostle Paul from murderous plots of the Jews, guaranteed his safe passage, stood up for him, stood as a bulwark and a barrier against the threats, against the violence. They’re good men.
But as Roman soldiers, the centurions were pagans, pagans like any other Roman soldier. They believed in the pantheon of Greco-Roman gods. They held fast to ancestral worship, traditions received from family generations past; local provincial gods, inherited in their upbringing, received by tradition, worship passed down, taught to them by their families.
Romans were like anybody else. Constant warfare at the empire’s frontiers, incursions into foreign lands, all served to reinforce to this centurion and to other soldiers their native paganism. Every, every tribe, tongue, people, language, nation, all of them had their gods, had their religions, but none could resist the might of Rome.
So by experience and practice and seeing it upfront and personal, he trusted the strong gods over the weak ones. He trusted the Roman gods over any provincial God, any national God. He’d seen the power of Rome. He was at the pointy end of the spear.
So this Roman centurion, he’s a pagan, perfectly content with the power of his gods above all others. Why should he attribute any glory or honor to any other God of any other land, most particularly the God of this man being crucified on the cross? And yet here he is. Look at verse 47 again. Now with the, “when the centurion saw what had happened, he began praising God, saying, ‘Certainly this man was righteous.’” We consider three things here: what he witnessed, what he saw and heard, and then what he said and what he did.
First, “when the centurion saw what had happened,”
when he saw what had happened.” We could add, when he heard what was said. He’s there. He’s seeing it all, he’s hearing it all. And what did he just see had happened as recorded in Luke’s text? He saw supernatural darkness. He’s a man who goes with the strong gods, the Roman gods, the ones with power. Well, who has the power to change the skies? Who has the power to block and blot out the sun? Who has the power to cause a darkness to fall, a darkness that can be felt? Nothing he’s been accustomed to, for sure.
Matthew 27:54 tells us a bit more, that “the centurion and those who were with him keeping guard over Jesus, when they saw the earthquake and the things that were happening.” That tells us not only was there darkness, but we know that there were three hours of darkness and then an earthquake, an earthquake that, as the text says, split rocks, an earthquake that opened up graves and tombs. And yet that earthquake did not utterly destroy all of Jerusalem, though it had the power to do so. That earthquake didn’t knock over every cross on Calvary, though it had the power to do so. No, the power in that earthquake was a targeted power. Instead of a hammer smash, it was a scalpel cut to sever rocks and open tombs. Targeted power.
So he saw the three hours of darkness, or didn’t see during the three hours of darkness. All of a sudden his eyes are open. There’s an earthquake. He also saw everything that came before that time, how all the abuse and the scorn of the leadership and all the people was completely silenced and shut out by the darkness. More curious to this centurion, who had a front row seat, who was up close to see how Jesus acted and to hear what he said. Mark draws our attention to that detail in Mark 15:39: “And when the centurion, who was standing right in front of him.” That’s what Mark says. When he saw the way Jesus breathed his last, in Mark’s view, that’s what grabbed the centurion’s attention.
He’s heard what Jesus said, and he saw how he died. No groveling or whining. Not one word of complaint. Not even a word of protest, even about his true innocence. No recriminations about the many injustices that been committed against him. Nothing about how he’d been railroaded, blacklisted, how he’d been put up here with these kangaroo courts and mock trials. Nothing about the obvious hypocrisy. Nothing about the greed and the envy that had put him up here on the cross. Nothing about the guilt of his accusers and slanderers and crucifiers. Nothing of that.
Instead, the centurion and his men saw Jesus die with royal dignity, saw him die in calm, repose, peace. They heard all seven of these sayings at the cross: words of forgiveness, of promise, words of care, words pointing to fulfilled prophecy, talk of completed work, this final expression of total and perfect composure because he trusted in God and entrusted his spirit to God. That’s what the centurion saw. That’s what the centurion heard. And what he witnessed informs what he said. What does he say? “Surely” or “certainly,” “of a truth, this man was righteous.” “This man was righteous.” The word is dikaios. It is the word, righteous, but in the context, here, and the meaning can be this, the word is innocent.
He’s completely in the right. This man is just. He’s, he’s free of all, innocent of all the charges that they leveled against him. In fact, whatever his innocence is, it, it certainly spreads throughout his entire life. It pervades everything. This man is something remarkable. This is actually the fourth witness that Luke provides to Jesus’ innocence. We see Pilate, Herod, the penitent criminal, and now this man, the centurion. Luke is lining up witness after witness, all of them saying the same thing, this consistent testimony about the innocence of Jesus Christ.
When he was dragged through the mock trials of the Jews, false witnesses were lined up by the Jewish leaders, and they had totally inconsistent testimony. They could not agree on what they were trying to charge Jesus with. But here at the end, as he’s crucified and nailed to the cross, testimony after testimony after testimony after testimony of his innocence. Matthew and Mark tell us that the centurion said something else. According to their account, and certainly he said all these things, but if you harmonize it, you get the full picture. But Matthew and Mark tell us that the centurion also said, “‘Truly this man was the Son of God.’” “‘Truly this man was the Son of God.’”
He’s unlike any man that he has ever crucified, unlike any man he’s ever encountered, ever killed, ever served with in the military. He’s unlike any man he’s ever seen or even heard about, even in some ancient myth or legend. This man is flesh and blood in front of him, doing these things, saying these things. He’s never seen anything like it.
The entire pantheon of his pagan gods has nothing to compare to this Jesus. All that’s in them is myths and legends, embellished tales of these powerful gods, all the flaws of sinful men, by the way, but just with great power to do great destruction to the world. That’s what the Roman pantheon was.
And this Jesus is nothing like that. He is righteous. He’s innocent of any and all fault. Death-row victims may protest and say they’re innocent, but this man really is. He’s something more than a man. He is otherworldly. He’s heavenly. He is the Son of God.
Now keep in mind that when a Roman says, “This was the Son of God,” we need to recognize that in a Roman context, in a Roman frame of mind, in a Roman way of thinking. He’s not speaking the way we as Christians speak when we use the term, Son of God. He’s not referring to the doctrine of Christ’s true deity, here. He’s not thinking about the incarnation as we understand it. And that in no way diminishes the significance of his confession, but it does point us to the right appreciation of it. We can appreciate it. We just, don’t want you, we don’t want to overdo it and overspeak, because what he thought about Jesus as the Son of God is not what we think.
And still, nonetheless, it is something remarkable. This centurion, like all Romans, understood the Emperor of Rome to be the Son of God. Divi Filius is the term in Latin, and that Divi Filius was acclaimed to political legitimacy because, Son of God, meant he is an emperor by divine right. This Caesar has been given to us by the gods. He is the one and the only one at this time who has the right to rule for Rome.
Luke shows us three reactions or responses to the death of Jesus at the cross.” Travis Allen
That’s what this centurion has come to believe about Jesus; namely, that if anyone has a legitimate divine right to the title that’s posted above him, this is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews, certainly this man does. This man has that divine right. He is the true King. He has that affirmation of the divine on him.
As I said, the Roman gods were the strong gods, and to a Roman mind they were manifestly, unarguably greater than all the other gods of the earth because of the power and might of Rome. No one could stop Rome. And here’s this man, this Jesus, who’s apparently weak, helpless, vulnerable, tacked up to a cross so he cannot move his arms and legs. He has no power to save himself though he’s been taunted to that degree, “Get off the cross. If you’re truly the king, save yourself.” He’s hanging on yet another of Rome’s crosses. And here he confesses, this Roman centurion, a believer in the strong gods, looking at this apparently weak man, and says, “Truly, this man was Divi Filius, Son of God.” How can you say this? What a remarkable and unexpected confession.
Certainly, he saw something happen meteorologically. The sun’s light gone for three hours; he can’t see his hand in front of his face. That’s a dangerous time for a soldier because you don’t know who’s going to put a knife in your back. And comes out the other side, knowing that the rest of the thousands there of the crowd that are there to watch this crucifixion, none of them could move either. They’re all pinned down by the darkness. And so he looks at this man, looks at the sky and says, “This man is the Son of God. This man is righteous. This man’s innocent.”
Luke gives us a little bit of an interpretation of verse 47. He says that by this confession the, the centurion glorified God. It says, the term that’s used in our text, in our translation, says “he began praising God.” This isn’t one of the typical words for praise: eulogeo, aineo, or exhomologeo. Those are words that are translated, to praise God, to give praise or, or thanksgiving, or express praise to God.
This is a different word. It’s the word doxazo, which we typically translate to glorify. So here it means, yeah, to glorify. It means to make manifest God, to magnify God, to give honor to God is really the idea. He does praise God. He does give honor to God, and that’s why it’s translated as praise in our Bibles. That’s, that’s not inaccurate. It’s kind of the meaning of it or the sense of it, but really means he’s glorifying God. He’s showing what God is like by speaking to this and declaring this man righteous.
It’s in the imperfect tense, and the imperfect tense looks at the past and talks about a continuous action in the past. So really what this means is that this man started to glorify God by declaring Jesus to be innocent, but then he kept on going, like he, you can’t shut this guy up is what the idea is.
Once he starts talking, once he realizes what’s going on and he starts talking, and he’s just so overcome, he’s struck by what he sees in front of him. He just keeps on saying, he cannot get over what he’s seen, heard, witnessed, and he keeps on glorifying Jesus and God by what he’s saying.
Luke portrays the centurion in a sense as not being able to, really, to help it, but that everything is pouring out of his mouth as he’s recognizing what Jesus is and he’s bringing glory to God because of what he sees and what he hears in Jesus.
Now we can question, and commentators take two sides on this, asking was the centurion then converted? Was he saved? Do we have enough evidence here to say that? Did he believe in Jesus at this point and become a follower of his, a disciple of his? Some say yes. They say that’s what this clearly means.
John Calvin is a bit more cautious. He says this, “It must not be so explained as if he’d fully repented. It was only a sudden and transitory impulse, as it frequently happens, that men who are thoughtless and devoted to the world are struck with the fear of God when he makes an alarming display of his power. But as they have no living root, indifference quickly follows and puts an end to that feeling.” Calvin goes on to say that “the centurion had not undergone such a change as to dedicate himself to God for the remainder of his life. It was only for a moment, the herald of the divinity of Christ.”
Maybe, maybe not. You can agree with Calvin’s caution, as I do. You may disagree. Truth is, we’re not told, here. We don’t know. He may have come to a thorough knowledge of the truth sometime later and believed. He may have been converted at some point. Calvin is certainly right about this: Because of what’s written in the Gospels, we cannot be certain of his salvation based on this bare profession of Jesus’ innocence, based on his affirming the legitimate claim to the Jewish throne. He did not profess faith in Jesus as the penitent criminal had.
In fact, I think that’s why this is so intelligently put in place by the writer Luke, to show us what conversion, what an expression of trust at that point in history prior to the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, what it looks like. Penitent criminal, he expressed faith in God. He expressed true repentance as we’ve studied in our time through Luke’s Gospel.
This man, we don’t necessarily see that, here, but it could be. We know that it’s not enough to say good things about Jesus. The rich young ruler came to him, said, “‘Good teacher, what must I do to be saved?’” But then at the end of that conversation, he walked away sad because he had great wealth. He had a lot of money. He couldn’t trade his wealth for his soul. So he forfeited his soul, kept his money.
It’s not enough to say good things about Jesus. It’s not enough to say true things, right things. It’s not enough to express words of appreciation that commend Jesus. It’s a good start, though, isn’t it? It’s what happens next that matters. It’s how he finishes his life that counts. Salvation is by grace through what? Through faith. We must place our full trust on him and put all our faith in him. We must believe his words, embrace his promises, lean on him wholly for salvation. So only time will tell with this man. And it is the same story for any today who confess a good confession about Christ. Time will tell.
It’s the same as we look at our own lives. Don’t rest your assurance on your earlier, previous confession. Where are you right now as a follower of Jesus Christ? Are you still following him? Are you pursuing him? Do you love him? Do you give your all to him, or do you give yourself to a lot of other things? Are you distracted? Are you choked out by the thorns and the worries and the cares of the world? Has the deceptiveness of riches and ease and entertainment pulled your heart away to worship other idols? Something worth reflecting on, isn’t it?
But this brings us to a second, we might call a second good start as we interpret the crowd’s reactions, and we hope to see them go from, number two, from remorse to repentance, from remorse to repentance. The crowd, here, is convicted. They’re stricken with remorse. But does it lead to true repentance? Luke leaves that unanswered. Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 7:10, “For godly sorrow produces a repentance not to be regretted, leading to salvation, but a worldly sorrow produces death.”
What kind of sorrow are we seeing, here? Luke really sets us up to expect another incomplete response to the death of Jesus by how he has grammatically or syntactically structured this. We see the response of the crowd is joined to that of the centurion by what’s called a coordinating conjunction. For you who remember your junior high grammar, you know a coordinating conjunction is the word, and, right? Simple word: and. Big, I mean, coordinating conjunction. How many syllables is that to reproduce one syllable: and? You use it all the time. You may not know what it’s called, but here it is, a coordinating conjunction, first word in verse 48, “and.”
So the centurion confessed, “and all the crowds who came together for this spectacle, when they observed what had happened, they were returning, beating their chests.” So Luke describes the crowd, here, as spectators. They were those who, as it says there, “came together for the spectacle.” So the Roman centurion is paid to be there. These people are there, they’re drawn by something else: by the spectacle. They’re there, they treat the, the crucifixion somewhat like a sporting event. It’s kind of like to them an, an entertaining diversion in their life, something you don’t see every day. Grab the kids, bring the popcorn. Who’s got the M & M’s? Let’s, let’s camp out here and watch this.
Commentators estimate the crowd size in the thousands. Some, some of those thousands joined the leadership in scoffing and taunting and dancing around the cross with all their abuse and scorn. But there were probably many others, probably most of this crowd who simply watched. They’re just curious. They’re onlookers. They’re passive.
Luke actually, as we’ve kind of gone through this, we noticed them in verse 27, he called attention to them as a large multitude of the people. They followed along in the procession of the cross, but they’re silent, here, aren’t they? They’re just onlookers. They’re followers. They’re there for the spectacle.
They were there as the women mourned and lamented, and they heard Jesus’ warnings through the women, but it was directed to them, about the destruction of Jerusalem. But Luke points them out again in verse 35, that the people there, they stood by, they “were looking on.”
All the followers of the Lord, all of his disciples, they are perplexed as they see their, their Lord, their master, their teacher die.” Travis Allen
But now, as they come to the death of Jesus and everything that’s transpired, no longer are they simply passive onlookers, mere spectators no more. These events have done something to them. The death of Jesus demands a response, calls for a verdict. In fact, that’s the case with every single one of us. The death of Jesus Christ demands a response.
Even if they only came to spectate, even if they only came for the, for the show, only to watch and go home, their conscience will not allow that. They intended to watch, go home, enjoy Passover with their families. Instead, they go home returning, beating their chests. The verb is typto. It’s to strike blows, it’s to pummel with fists. Why would they do that? Why would they beat themselves like that? They’re overcome. All they can do is take it out on themselves.
They saw everything the centurion saw, probably heard, some of them if they were closer in proximity, heard what he heard. And then the darkness fell for three hours. They were pinned in place. They couldn’t leave for fear of stumbling and falling. Obviously a divine act, supernatural sign, a sign from heaven to them. And suddenly they’re struck with shame over what happened. They’re mortified over what they have witnessed. They stood there as there’s been this state-sponsored, religiously motivated murder.
It’s been prosecuted by their own leaders, prosecuted by men that they respect, men that they’ve looked up to, studied men who lead all the political, religious, and social institutions of, of Jewish society, the important people of Jerusalem and Judea, the ones they’ve taught their kids to look up to.
And they did something horrible. Whether they participated in the scoffing or not, they all stood by and watched. They were all entertained by it. And not only did they say nothing, they treated this cold-blooded, murder as sport. So they’re convicted of the core. They’re cut to the quick.
We can see the response, here. It comes out in beatings and blows, but that has to come from somewhere deep, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s visceral, from the pit of the stomach. Their gut is, they cannot rest within themselves. So the reaction is this dramatic, it’s profound sorrow, extreme remorse. And at the moment, there’s no relief. They go home for their time with their family and the Passover, but they’ve got no appetite. This grim affair has just stolen every impulse for food.
Listen, this remorse is a good sign. It’s a good start. I am always concerned when I meet Christians who sin and have their sin pointed out to them, and they sit there with a cold-hearted, emotionless response and almost shrug their shoulders, like, So? I worry for people like that. I worry for people who aren’t gripped by sin, sin against God, sin against other people.
This is a profound, mortifying, sinful act of murder against an innocent man, combined with this testimony of heaven, darkness of the sky, this rumbling earthquake, splitting rocks, opening tombs. So they’re gripped with fear. I mean, a flood of emotions has come over them. They can’t help but show this kind of remorse, regret. It’s a good sign. It’s a good start in and of itself.
We have to say this is not true conversion, either. Will it prove to be a godly sorrow that produces repentance leading to salvation? Or will it turn out to be worldly sorrow that produces death? At this point, we don’t know the answer to that question. At the end of this day, everyone went home in deep remorse. There’s no assurance of the forgiveness that Jesus prayed for in verse 34. So we don’t know whether any of them truly repented at this point.
We do know, though, thankfully, because Luke wrote a volume two, we do know that some of them, for some of them, that sorrow that they felt on this day was preparatory for true conversion. They would come in the near future, several thousand. Likely some of these thousands would repent and believe under the preaching of Peter on the day of Pentecost.
But here, no salvation. Here, only remorse, only regret. For those who would repent and believe one day, this remorse portended a future conversion. And for them, as they go home from the cross, from Skull Hill, they go back to their homes. And the Passover for them is a time of deep self-reflection as they consider, just as maybe we do before the communion table, they consider their, their lives, consider their ways, their habits, their frame of mind, their speech.
I mean, they did take themselves out to the cross that day for the spectacle. Why would they treat the murder of this just man, or even the death of an unjust man, why would they treat it as entertainment? They’re going to think about this. They had to wonder for those who would one day believe, they had to wonder, Why did I do that? Why didn’t I just stand there passively, silently, saying nothing, doing nothing?
That’s the believing heart. It really asks deep questions, the believing heart that really takes these things seriously and does some further spade work in the heart, to open up the heart before the light of truth and ask hard questions, let the light of God’s truth penetrate and expose and open up so that we can be fully clean before God, saved.
But for the rest, I’d say for the majority of this crowd, their troubled consciences, just, though they condemn them loudly and relentlessly, they stood by in silence as their own Messiah was murdered. But they ignored their conscience. That’s another sin added to their account, another sin in the ledger logged as a number of charges against them throughout their life. And by ignoring their conscience, you know what they did? They hardened their conscience. Every time you ignore your conscience, you put a layer of callousness between your conscience and your heart, so you can’t feel it anymore. Do not ignore your conscience. Don’t let sin go.
Their sins would come to them again, and their conscience would be awakened fully again one day, and all their sins would revisit them, including this one, showing up as witnesses for the prosecution on the day of judgment before the Lamb sitting on the judgment throne.
What about you? Do you feel remorse, regret over sins? Not just what you feel before other people, but before your God? Do you sense your sin against him? Does it bother you, or do you shrug it off and move on? Does remorse and regret then lead you to true biblical repentance? Actual, real, demonstrable change of direction, a new trajectory, a new behavior, lifestyle, habits? Or does the remorse eventually wear off, as it always does, and you forget it, move on? Another good set of questions to ask, especially as we come before the Lord’s table.
Before we consider a third point, I want you to look back at verses 47-48 that we’ve gone through and just see a pattern in those two verses because that pattern is going to be disrupted in verse 49. We notice in verse 47 the centurion saw what had happened and began praising God, saying, “‘Certainly this man was righteous.’” So the centurion, we see in that verse, the centurion saw and he spoke, and verse 48, all the crowds, “they came together for the spectacle and when they observed what had happened, they were returning and beating their chests.” So they also, like the centurion, they saw and they reacted.
In both cases, the people did not come to the cross in faith, with hearts prepared for believing. So when they’re confronted with what had happened, that’s the same exact expression in both verses, what had happened, they observed it, they saw it, and they reacted. Their consciences were awakened.
That was not a voluntary impulse on their part. It was involuntary, the awakening of the conscience, the convicting of the conscience. Your conscience is like a nerve ending, spiritually speaking. And just like when you put your hand too close to a flame and instinctively you pull it back, you don’t put your hand close to the flame and then just say, You know, fire is bad for hands and therefore I ought to pull my hand back if I want the use of it in the future. You don’t think that through. There’s no thinking. It’s hot, pull back. And then like, What did I just do? The thinking comes later.
That’s these people. There’s what happened, what they experience and see and hear, and they react to it. Conscience is like a nerve ending in the spirit awakened, activated. The conscience, then, like a nerve, shooting signals to the brain and then activating muscles, the muscles that compelled the speech of the centurion, the muscles that compelled the fists of the crowd to beat their chest and their legs to propel them home. But those are involuntary reactions to what they saw. From the evidence of the text, the hearts are unchanged at this point.
Many people today, just like that, able to speak and behave, behave in certain ways, but possessing no true saving faith. They walk by sight, not by faith, whatever they say. They’re religious, sure, but they’re not really believing. They live according to the flesh. They don’t live according to the truth. They don’t walk in the Spirit.
So note that contrast as we come from verses 47-48 to verse 49, where we see another, a third good start. And I would say that this good start starts with faith. You can say, number three, if you want an outline point, it’s from standing to walking. Good start: standing. But now they need to walk in this faith.
The followers of Jesus do well to stand there, don’t they? They do well to stay put, but will they continue in the faith, growing to maturity, walking toward the cross, not away from it? Will they walk toward the Lord Jesus Christ, or will they walk away from him? Paul wrote in Galatians 5:24-25, he said, “Now those who belong to Jesus Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, we must also walk by the Spirit.”
Standing is good. It’s good. But standing still is not. The Christian life involves movement. It propels us forward in a direction. The Christian life causes us to take action. The Christian life is about fruit-bearing to the glory of God in the name of Jesus Christ, by the power, by the productivity of the Holy Spirit within us. So what Luke emphasizes in the followers is not that they saw and observed and that, like an involuntary impulse, led to some great action. Rather, we see that simple faith brought them here and caused them, at the very least, to stand. They stood there.
Again, I confess it’s no expression of great faith. I’m not commending this as an example of strong faith. This is not exemplary faith. But I believe it is an expression of genuine faith. It’s a beginning. The sentence in verse 49 begins with the word “and,” but that’s kind of not the way I’d translate that. The Greek, here, is a contrastive conjunction, the word die, and I think it really should be used or translated in its contrastive sense with its contrastive force.
I’m going to read it that way, so you hear the contrast between the two previous verses that are joined together, and then this verse that Luke separates. So “when the centurion saw what had happened,” verse 47, he spoke, and all the crowds likewise, verse 48, when they observed what happened, they returned in great remorse. “But all his acquaintances and the women who accompanied him from Galilee, they were standing at a distance watching these things.”
The emphasis in this verse for the acquaintances and for the women, the emphasis is on the word stand. They were there. They showed up. They stood there, stood firm, stayed there. In fact, the emphasis is very clear in the original, because in the Greek sentence, the very first word or verb, is the main verb, histemi, to stand, stand still, stand firm. That’s the emphasis received in the Greek. The last words in this verse, they’re de-emphasized by being placed at the end of the sentence. It’s saying, “They stood,” beginning of the verse, and then the very end, “watching these things.” That’s what’s at the end.
Luke is painting a very clear picture, here, of the contrast between these people, who are friends of Jesus, between them and the centurion, between them and the crowds. They stand there; they don’t go home. They stay there. Verb tense makes it clear that they started standing earlier than this, and they’ve continued to stand there, and they’ve stayed put to the very end and through the end. In fact, we’re going to see one of them who stays there, a man named Joseph of Arimathea, he’s one of that number. He stands there, and then he goes and appeals to Pilate to go get the body off the cross and bury Jesus in his own tomb. We’ll get there momentarily.
As I say, admittedly, we don’t see much faith, here. But what we do see is an essential element of saving faith because true faith causes people to show up and to stand firm and to stay put, and to do so against the majority, to go against the strong current of the culture, to stand against the influence of the crowd.
The word there for acquaintances, you might, you might think that that makes the relation to Jesus sound pretty remote, but that’s actually not the case. The word is gnostos, which is followed by what’s called a dative of association. So in the original, it’s hoi gnostos auto, literally “the ones known to him.” So the emphasis is on the fact that Jesus knows them.
Lots of people say, I know Jesus, and I just want to say, Well, does Jesus know you by your life and habits and actions and words, by your affections and your trajectory? I can’t tell that he really does know you. It’s hard to spot any of Jesus in your thinking, no matter what you profess.
Literally, these are the ones known to him. Or you could just say his friends, his disciples. That’s what this bigger group is, his disciples. And then it says “the women who accompanied him from Galilee.” Who are they? Well, Luke named them in Luke 8:2-3. So we’ve got Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, many others who are contributing to support Jesus and the disciples out of their private means. These are generous-hearted women, true believers.
Matthew and Mark give us a few more names. Mary, the mother of James and Joseph are there. She’s also known as the other Mary or Mary the the wife of Clopas. Mark adds the name Salome, whom Matthew identifies as the mother of the sons of Zebedee, so the mother of James and John, and her name is Salome.
Our translation doesn’t really highlight the distinction that exists here in the text between the men and the women, but the New English Translation does clarify for us that distinction between the men and the women, here, gives more of a word-for-word rendering of the Greek. According to the New English Translation, it says “all those who knew Jesus.” That’s the first group of disciples, used with masculine nouns. “All those who knew Jesus,” the first group of disciples, they “stood at a distance.” And then there’s a second group of disciples, “the women who’d followed him from Galilee saw, who saw these things.”
So remember, back to Peter in the trials of Jesus. He’s in the courtyard of the high priest. Remember, we commended Peter for trying to follow after Jesus. Now in the garden, like the rest of the Apostles, he’s scattered, right, tried to fight the soldiers, take out a sword, hacked off Malchus’ ear. Jesus repaired it, put it back, rebuked Peter.
But then the arrest, they all took off, scattered, Peter kind of darting between the shadows, doing the spy thing, being real stealthy. He sneaks up, finds his way into the courtyard of the high priest. He followed, but Luke 22:54 is clear to point out he “followed from a distance.” From a distance. Same expression, here. Masculine gender shows these are male disciples, and they’ve done the same thing. They stood, yeah, but at a distance. The women, however, they stood close enough to see, to watch.
I appreciate the comment that comes from A. B. Bruce on this subtle but real distinction that Luke makes between the male and the female disciples. “The women,” he says, “were bolder where the heart was concerned. The men stood at a safe distance. The women cared more for seeing than for safety.”
These women, they’re compelled, often more than men, by the relationship. The relationship is what matters. They’ll work out the details later. But you threaten a mama, you threaten her cubs? You find out, right? She’ll sort out the details later. She’ll even help patch up the wounds she gave you because she’s compassionate and merciful. Don’t you mess with the one she loves.
Men, we could be more like that. We could be more like that, compelled by the relationship to Jesus Christ even when there are things we don’t understand. They came near. And the text says, there’s a participle of purpose used in the text, they came near with the point so that they could see. They wanted to observe these things.
By the way, none of the synoptic Gospels are overt in recording that the Apostles showed up at the cross. It’s only in John’s Gospel that we find out that John was there. And it’s kind of rather incidental even in how he records himself. He, Jesus, put his mother Mary into his care, but he even speaks of himself in a very incidental way. No other Apostles are mentioned as being at the cross. And if the Apostles were there, they’re mixed in with the acquaintances of Jesus. They’re back in the background. Their presence is downplayed.
Why is that? I mean, aren’t these guys chosen to be the leaders, foundation stones of the church with Jesus Christ as the cornerstone? Yes, they are. Why is their presence downplayed here at the cross? Because their influence is muted. They’re not acting very apostolic here on the day of the crucifixion. Ever since the arrest of Jesus, the Apostles were scattered. They’re struggling with bewilderment, perplexity. Certainly, we can understand that.
The way that the Jews viewed the resurrection, they saw it as a future event. They believed that Jesus, too, would rise from the dead. And as Martha says in John chapter 11, when Jesus says, “‘Martha, do you believe in the resurrection? Do you believe that I have the power?’”, she says, “‘Yes, I know my brother will be resurrected on the last day.’” She’s looking forward, to the future. Jesus showed her, No, I’ve got the power to do that, now, today. Stand by, stand by, Martha.
All the followers of the Lord, all of his disciples, they are perplexed as they see their, their Lord, their master, their teacher die. It’s not what they expected. In fact, I can imagine if I was there, holding the same doctrinal, theological beliefs that they did, I can see myself, like, hearing the taunts of the Pharisees and the scribes and the Sadducees, all saying, “We’ll believe you! Come down off that cross! Show yourself a savior. Save yourself first!”
I’d be like, Yeah, I, I kind of want that, too. In fact, that whole twelve legions of angels you talked about, I’d really like to see that right now. Slaughter these people. Destroy everybody, destroy the temple. Let’s start over. I want to see justice done. I mean, doesn’t the believing heart cry out for that? When we see sin running amok in our time, when we see our politics, when we see our society, when you see our culture and how toxic and immoral it is, don’t we just long for the Lord to return? Let’s just deal with it and be glorified and have this thing stop, and all sinners stop, and every scoffing, blaspheming mouth silenced.
Isn’t that the believing impulse? I’m sure that’s how they felt, too. So when they see their Lord die, they’d be bewildered. They don’t know what to do. I think we can understand that. But they’re there. Of all the Lord’s followers and of all his disciples, it’s the softer-hearted women who are set apart for special commendation and special privilege. Their faith and their affection and the purpose clause says, “They drew near so that they could see and observe these things.” Their faith and affection would be rewarded with sight three days later, some of them being at the resurrection.
What about you, friend? What kind of faith do you have? Are you like the crowds who are drawn by spectacle, impressed by signs? But maybe only with a temporary faith, one that’s fickle, subject to changing emotions, changing circumstances. Is this a wait-and-see kind of thing with you? Are you like the centurion, you’re impressed with the strong gods, the powerful? Is yours a theology of glory that rejoices in power and wealth and things you can see visibly manifest, like skies darkening and rocks splitting, and that and only that will evoke your confession?
Or do you look at the weakness of the cross, the theology of the cross, of a Savior who won by losing, who gained a victory by not, seemingly, gaining a victory, who lived by dying, who gained all by giving up his life? What kind of faith do you have? Or are you among those who are known by Jesus with the clear evidence that you show up and you show up consistently and you stay there and you stay put and you stand firm and you commit and you come under authority and you come under submission, and you understand that your life is accountable to your brothers and sisters, yes, but to God. You understand you have a stewardship, an account to give one day of your life.
Because if true saving faith is there, it will produce that kind of a fruit. True faith is what appropriates divine grace, a grace that changes you and doesn’t leave you the same. It causes you to grow in true holiness, causes you to walk in righteous obedience to Jesus Christ. What guarantees that we will, if we have a good start, good confession, we have a remorse over sin, we want to repent, we’re imperfect in our repentance, what guarantees that if we are standing that we’ll walk?
If we could add one little correction to the, the women who followed Jesus, it would be this, that when they came near, that instead of coming near to watch, as Luke puts it, “these things,” they came near to, which is what the text says, we ought instead to come near to watch him, to fix our eyes on Jesus Christ, the author and perfecter of our faith.
That’s really the key, isn’t it? And that’s what the believer does day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. We could break it down and say moment by moment, fixing our eyes on Jesus because we have nothing in ourselves to keep us faithful. But he does. He has all power. Here he is, faithful to the end. Here he is, saying, “It is finished.” Here he is saying, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Here he is, giving up his life for you and for me. We’d give our life to him. We’d die for him, die with him.
But the life that lives within us is the resurrection life, that life that gives power to our mortal bodies, the life that animates us, the life by which the Spirit lives and drives us to love and good works; that’s the life that lives in us. And that’s the key to spiritual growth, isn’t it? To look to him, to stand firm, to walk in the Spirit, not in the flesh, but look to him, so we bring fruit and bear fruit to the glory of God.