Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And they cast lots to divide his garments. (Luke 23:32-34)

As Jesus hung between two criminals, blood already beginning to flow from the scourging, thorns piercing His brow, the weight of the wooden cross pressing against torn flesh – His first recorded words were not a cry of pain or a plea for justice. They were a prayer: “Father, forgive them.”

Even before the hours of agony ahead – before the mocking, the suffocation, and the slow crawl toward death – His heart was already full of forgiveness. This was no spontaneous act of mercy. Jesus’ forgiveness was a resolve carried into the cross, not formed upon it. He had already decided to love, to forgive, to endure. He wasn’t overcome by grace in the moment; He embodied grace.

This is the Lamb who was “slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). Long before nails pierced His hands, long before humanity fell in the garden, long before the first breath of man – He knew. He knew we would betray, deny, and crucify Him. He knew the cross would be necessary. And still, He created us.

What kind of love He is! That a holy God would form us from dust, breathe life into us, knowing full well that we would rebel, and that redeeming us would cost Him everything.

Yet on the cross, He said it aloud: “Father, forgive them.” Not because the Father needed convincing, but because we did. In His spoken words, He removed all doubt. The forgiveness He carried in His heart from eternity past was now echoing through time and space for all to hear.

And those words weren’t just for the Roman soldiers or the angry crowd - they were for you. They were for me. They were for anyone who’s ever felt the crushing weight of guilt or the ache of shame. He not only bore our sins, He then declared us forgiven in the very act of bearing them.

Jesus didn’t wait for repentance before offering forgiveness. He didn’t demand we understand the depth of our offense first. No, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross was not merely the result of our sin – it was the remedy for it. His forgiveness wasn’t reactive, it was proactive. It was eternal and unshakable.

So, when you wonder if you’re too far gone, too broken, or too late – let go of that lie and look to the cross. Hear His words. Remember: He forgave you before you ever knew you needed it. Thank Him for that forgiveness and if necessary, ask for help to receive it freely. I pray that we may always walk in the forgiveness and freedom that Christ died to freely give us.

Pilate then called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was misleading the people. And after examining him before you, behold, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither did Herod, for he sent him back to us. Look, nothing deserving death has been done by him. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”— a man who had been thrown into prison for an insurrection started in the city and for murder. Pilate addressed them once more, desiring to release Jesus, but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” A third time he said to them, “Why? What evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. So Pilate decided that their demand should be granted. (Luke 23:13-24)

Pilate was not a worshiper of God. Yet when Jesus became an issue he could no longer avoid, Pilate had to look directly into the face of truth. And what he saw, again and again, was innocence, as he repeated three times, “I find no guilt in this man.” Logic, evidence, and even his own conscience pointed to one conclusion: Jesus had done nothing worthy of death.

Still, the crowd would not relent, and the cries to crucify Him echoed through the air. And in the end, “their voices prevailed.” Not justice. Not truth. Not the integrity of a Roman governor in a seat of power. Just the pressure of a crowd prevailing.

Pilate’s failure is one we’re tempted to repeat in subtle ways. When standing for truth becomes costly – when it risks our reputation, our influence, or our comfort – how often do we remain silent or step aside? Though Pilate had no covenant relationship with God, his position still demanded a standard of righteousness. Authority always carries responsibility. And when Pilate yielded to the mob, he wasn’t just handing over an innocent man – he was surrendering to fear.

Charles Spurgeon once said, “He who kneels before God can stand before any man.” But Pilate didn’t kneel. He stood in front of Truth incarnate and crumbled under the weight of the crowd’s lofty chant. His heart may have been momentarily stirred, but ultimately his spine failed him. And with that, he walked away complicit in the greatest injustice the world has ever known.

As followers of Christ, we are not called to blend into the crowd, but to reflect the character of our King. Jesus stood silent in the face of false accusation, not because He lacked strength, but because He knew His silence fulfilled the Father’s will. He bore injustice to make us just. But now that we are made right with God, we must be willing to stand for what is right – even when it costs us something.

You may never face a literal crowd crying out against you. But you will face moments when the easy path is to ignore injustice, to overlook a lie, to choose silence when truth is begging to be spoken. In those moments, remember Pilate – and choose differently.

If you’ve been in Pilate’s shoes before, where your spine has failed you – take heart: there is grace. Let that grace move you to a new resolve of choosing to stand for truth. Let us be people of courage, grounded in prayer, fearless in the face of pressure – because we kneel before the throne of God.

When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he belonged to Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him over to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time. When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. So he questioned him at some length, but he made no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him. And Herod with his soldiers treated him with contempt and mocked him. Then, arraying him in splendid clothing, he sent him back to Pilate. And Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day, for before this they had been at enmity with each other. (Luke 23:6-12)

In this section, we read of a courtroom type drama that wasn’t about justice at all. Jesus stood before rulers and religious elites, not to receive a fair trial, but to be passed off, mocked, and mishandled. Each person in this passage had the opportunity to respond rightly to the Son of God – yet each chose selfishness instead.

Pilate didn’t seek justice, he sought convenience. When he realized Jesus was from Galilee, he immediately saw a way to get this uncomfortable situation off his plate. By sending Jesus to Herod, Pilate thought he could wash his hands of the matter with no investigation and no courage to stand for truth. It was just an opportunity to shift responsibility and avoid dealing with the weight of the decision.

Herod didn’t seek justice, he sought entertainment. When Jesus was brought before him, Herod was glad – not because he longed to hear truth, but because he hoped for a show. Some miracle, some sign, basically something flashy. But Jesus refused to perform and He had nothing to prove to a man who had no intention of listening.

The chief priests and scribes didn’t seek justice, they sought their own agenda. They only cared about eliminating the threat to their power and influence; the influence and status among the people that they had worked so hard to build, and Jesus disrupted that. So instead of humbling themselves and acknowledging the Messiah, they stirred up false accusations and manipulated the system to preserve their own status.

And the soldiers? They didn’t seek justice either. They joined in the mockery. Jesus, innocent and silent, became their punchline. They dressed Him in royal robes, not to honor Him, but to humiliate Him. It was sport. It was just another way to pass the time and feel superior.

And in a twisted irony, we read that “Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day, for before this they had been at enmity with each other.” How did their friendship begin? Through the selfish handling of Jesus. Their unity was not built on truth or justice – it was built on sin.

Jesus brings people together. For some, He is the Cornerstone upon which a community of grace and truth is built with sinners saved by mercy, are sharpening one another and growing together in faith. But for others, He is a threat or an inconvenience, and their shared mishandling of Him becomes the glue that binds them in sin.

So we must ask ourselves: What do we desire when we see Jesus?

When we come to church, are we coming to worship the Living God – or to be entertained by the worship team and the pastor’s witty humor during a sermon? When we interact with fellow believers, do we sharpen one another and walk in accountability – or do we stroke one another’s egos and build relationships around comfort and self-preservation?

I pray that we would not be like Pilate, Herod, or the chief priests, and soldiers; seeking to use Jesus for our own selfish means. May we instead be people who truly seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8), and may our hearts be set not on self, but on the One who stood silently, innocently, and sacrificially – for us.