By Robert Clements
Are You Between Two Thieves?
As Good Friday approaches, there is one picture that quietly settles into the mind. Three crosses on a hill. One in the centre. Two on either side. And in the middle, a man who had done nothing wrong, placed between two who had.
Now pause there. Because that picture is not just history. It is happening every single day. Not with crosses perhaps, but with labels.
We have perfected a strange art. We do not need proof. We only need proximity. Place a good person next to the wrong people, and we have already decided what he must be. No investigation required. No questions asked. Just a neat little conclusion tied up with a ribbon of assumption. Stand with the wrong crowd and you become the crowd.
It is an efficient system. Saves time. Saves effort. Saves the trouble of thinking.
Sit next to a loud fool at a meeting and people assume you share his thoughts. Smile politely at someone who is known to be difficult and suddenly you are part of his inner circle. Be seen having coffee with a man who has a reputation for cutting corners and your own reputation begins to wobble like a badly made chair in a government office.
And with it come the labels. Liar. Fraud. Cheat.
Words thrown casually, like confetti at a wedding, except this confetti does not fall away. It sticks. It clings. It settles into your name and refuses to leave.
And once stuck, it defines you in the eyes of the world.
The tragedy is not just that people label you. The tragedy is how quickly others accept the label. Nobody pauses to ask, “Is this true?” We prefer, “It sounds about right.” There is a strange comfort in believing the worst about someone. It gives us a sense of moral superiority without any effort.
And that is what makes that Good Friday scene so powerful. It was not just about pain. It was about perception. An innocent man deliberately placed between two criminals. The message to the crowd was simple and effective. Look at him. One of them.
No speech required. No explanation needed. Just placement.
And the crowd believed it.
Which tells us something uncomfortable about ourselves. We are not just victims of labels. We are also enthusiastic distributors of them. We see three crosses and quickly form a conclusion. We rarely ask who the man in the middle really is.
But here is where the connection becomes beautifully clear.
Jesus did not fight the label in that moment. He did not shout from the cross, “Excuse me, wrong grouping.” He did not request a rearrangement for clarity. He did not issue a statement distancing himself from the two on either side.
He stayed.
And that is perhaps the most difficult thing for us to understand. When wrongly labelled, our first instinct is to protest. To explain. To defend. To correct every whisper and every raised eyebrow. We want to fix the picture immediately.
He did not.
He allowed the world to misunderstand him completely. For a while, the label seemed to win. The scene looked convincing. Three criminals, one in the middle. Case closed. But only for a while. Because truth does not depend on public opinion. It depends on what is real. And what is real has a strange, stubborn habit of rising.
On the third day, everything changed.
The same man who had been visually grouped with thieves was revealed for who he truly was. Not by argument. Not by debate. Not by a cleverly crafted statement. But by resurrection. By reality breaking through perception. The label placed on him could not survive the truth of who he was.
And that is where this story stops being history and starts becoming hope.
Because many of us have been there. Not on a hill with crosses, but in rooms, offices, societies, WhatsApp groups and whispered conversations. Our names dropped casually into stories we were never part of. Our intentions misunderstood. Our character questioned. Our identity quietly rewritten by others who found it easier to label than to learn.
For a season, the label may stick. People may believe it. The picture may look convincing. You may even begin to doubt yourself, which is the most dangerous part of all. When you start seeing yourself through the eyes of those who misunderstood you, the label has done its deepest damage.
But it is temporary.
Because just as that cross could not define Jesus, neither can a label define you. Position does not determine identity. Company does not rewrite characters. What you are remains what you are, whether the world recognises it or not.
And if you remain steady, if you refuse to become what you have been called, if you hold on quietly to truth without turning bitter or defensive, there will come a moment when what is real rises above what was said.
It may not be dramatic. There may be no applause. But clarity has a way of arriving. Slowly perhaps, but surely. People begin to see again.
And when they do, the labels fall away, not because you fought them, but because they could not survive the truth.
So if today you find yourself placed between two thieves, resist the urge to panic. Do not scramble to rearrange your position. Do not spend your energy chasing every opinion.
Stay who you are. Because the world may place you anywhere it chooses. But it cannot keep you there.
Not if you are true. Not if you are real. Not if, like Him, what you are has the power to rise…!
(If you would like to read Bob’s Banter everyday. It can be sent to you through Whatsapp every morning. Just send your name and phone number to [email protected])
