What does the Bible say about a death bed conversion?

The dying thief who turned to the Lord when He hung upon the cross found Christ's cross to be for him the tree of life, for after he had said to the Lord, "Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom," Jesus replied, "Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:42-43). Having by his life of sin forfeited his life on earth, the repentant thief by faith in Jesus obtained eternal life, and that with Him in the paradise of God. That very day the erstwhile thief left the world, where man's paradise was lost, and where death reigned, to enter a heavenly paradise that God had prepared for those who trusted in His Son.

Was not this all true of the “dying thief”—who passed away to be with his Lord in paradise on the very day when he paid the penalty of his misdeeds before man—on the ground and by the merit of the expiation wrought for man by the sinless Redeemer at his side? To Him he turned in faith and was there and then taken on high.

You must have to do with this stronger Man. If you do not meet Him in the day of grace, you will have to meet Him in the day of judgment. Already has He stood at man's bar, and been rejected of man. Pilate said, "Behold the man!" in the day when His foes clamoured for His blood; and you know the end of the story, how they crowned Him with thorns, and nailed Him on the cross between two thieves. It was at that juncture that one dying thief, turning to the other, said, "Dost thou not fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? and we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing amiss" (Luke 23:40-41). Mark these words, "This man has done nothing amiss." I tell you of the death of a Man who did nothing amiss. I think I hear that poor dying thief saying to his neighbour, "You and I never did a right thing, and here is a Man who never did a wrong thing, and I am going to trust that Man." His faith found vent in the prayer, "Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom." To that cry of faith Jesus replied, "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise." We saw a thief driven out of man's paradise because of sin, last Sunday night; and tonight I see a thief going into God's paradise, on the ground of redemption, with the Saviour who dies for him. Blessed news is that for you and me.

The next moment he says, "Lord, remember me when thou comest in (not into) thy kingdom." I know Thou art dying, but I know Thou art the King. Thou art going out of the scene, but Thou wilt come back again. Remember me when Thou comest in Thy kingdom. That is all the length his faith got then; but mark the Lord's answer, "Verily I say to thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise." Oh! look at the Saviour's grace to the man who confides in Him. That other thief, hand and glove with the world, was railing against Him — infidelity, rationalism, and reason were working in all save one, as they stood, or hung, taunting Him to save Himself, if He were the Christ, and if He were the King. The poor thief sees that He is a King; sees that He is the Christ the Son of God, and then owns that He is his Lord!

I verily believe that men nowadays have not a thousandth part of the faith which that poor thief had. He trusted Jesus when every possible evidence why He should be trusted was gone — He was dying, refused of man, and forsaken of God, yet then it was the thief confided in Him. We have all the evidence about the Lord Jesus Christ — that He is risen from the dead, has passed into glory, and is thus accepted of God. This the Holy Ghost has come down to tell us, and we have, for the assurance of our faith, all that is given us in the Scriptures. The dying robber, touched by grace, and wrought on by the Holy Spirit, says, "Lord, remember me when thou comest in thy kingdom," at a moment when all this was unrevealed. Will you, my friend, trust that blessed Saviour, and give Him the confidence of your heart? Notice now the Lord's answer, "Verily I say to thee, Today shalt thou he with me in paradise." The dying believer got the assurance of present salvation. And observe this, ye who are fond of ritual, he was never baptized, and he never took the Lord's Supper either. And where did he go without either? To paradise that day. How do I know? Because Christ said he should, — "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise." It was that day, not the day after, not tomorrow, but that day. Such is grace; and such the reward of faith.

It does indeed. Poor man! with his hands made fast to the cross, what manner of work could he do? He could only turn to the Lord in all his vileness and helplessness. This he did, and was blessed at once with the promise, "To-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise." It matters little what men say or think as to what or where "paradise" was. The point is that he was there and then made fit for the company of Christ, and had the assurance of being with Him.

"Remember me" — who? A convicted thief, who confessed, too, that he was rightly punished. What boldness can be imparted to a sinner! In the company of Christ on the cross, put there by men, justly deserving a malefactor's death, the Lord, as he owned, innocent, having done nothing amiss, he could nevertheless ask and hope that in the day of His power He would favourably remember him. As yet no word has escaped those lips to embolden the thief to make such a request. Would the Lord respond to his petition? Would He take notice of a convicted thief's prayer, and such a prayer? He did. The thief had asked for remembrance in the coming day. The Lord promised more than he had asked, for He told him he should be with Him that day in paradise.

I maintain, therefore, that the salvation spoken of in Ephesians is already complete for him that believes; so absolute indeed, that none can add anything to it, because it would be adding something to Christ, and to what Christ has done. And this may not be, cannot be, seeing that it is all the free, unmerited, unmingled mercy of God. And this is the great thing for the soul. Am I able, without question of what I am, or what I hope to be, or what I ought to do for God, to trust Him now? Can I rest all that I have been and am upon Christ, without any promises or pledges of mine — without any hope or thought of what I may do, because God might take me away in a moment? Can I rest entirely and implicitly in Him? Think of the case of the dying thief, which is a living and notable testimony of salvation by grace throughout all ages. Others may have a work to do afterwards; but there we have one who was an object of grace in the last hours of his life. And there is no other way. Had he lived for a thousand years afterwards, he would not have been a whit more secure by grace than he was then. It is of great moment to bring our souls to the touchstone from time to time — whether we are resting solely upon the grace of God toward us, not upon what people call grace in us, i.e., our faithfulness toward Him. For this is a common notion of grace. They mean a great change that has taken place in the heart in respect of God. This, however, is not what God calls grace, but what He has given gratuitously in the work that Christ has done for sin. "By grace are ye saved through faith." The Spirit shuts out all thought of man's contributing the faith or taking any credit because coming to Christ; for He says immediately after, "And that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God." This probably refers, not only to the salvation, but to the faith; it was all the gift of God, and not man's production: "Not of works, lest any man should boast." On the contrary, instead of being a question of our works, we are God's handiwork, the new creation for His own praise. "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God has before ordained that we should walk in them." There you have a most plain proof that there could be no carelessness as to the walk of the believer; but the same verse cuts off all thought that man's doing can be the ground or means of salvation.

There are those who live all their life careless and Christless. If the importance of their soul's welfare is pressed upon them, they say they will consider the matter "some day," and thus they put it off again and again, and go on with their sins and their pleasures. At last, when they find themselves upon the brink of the grave, they become alarmed and begin to cry to God for mercy, and make a profession of faith in Christ. That, I suppose, is what is called a "death-bed repentance."

But death-bed repentances are very unsatisfactory things. I am far from denying that a man, even at the eleventh hour of life, if he really turns to the Saviour and puts his trust in His precious blood, will find mercy. The grace of God is infinite, and I have no doubt many will be in heaven who were saved upon a dying bed.

But, you say, some men turn to the Lord on their deathbed. I do not deny it. But who gives you the assurance that after you have spent your life in the service of sin, and after you have lived only for this world, to the utter neglect of eternity, that you will be able to turn to the Lord at the twelfth hour, and have all settled up. Take warning, Belshazzar died that night, and you may die this night.

Friend, I suppose you mean to be converted some day? Do not put it off: no, no, do not put it off till your death-bed. There is only one death-bed repentance given us in Scripture, that no man may presume; but there is one, that none may despair. I have little faith in them. Rowland Hill called them not death-bed conversions, but death-bed fear of hell and damnation. He was not far wrong.

Oh! you say, I believe in the goodness of God. Yes, He is good, and infinitely better than you dream of, but is that a reason for you to refuse His grace, and put off your soul's eternal salvation till the moment of your death-bed? If so, you are like another foolish man I have heard of, and he was like you. He procrastinated, and he meant to come to Christ in the future, for he believed in the goodness of God. He was surrounded by Christian friends, and they often pleaded with him to come to the Lord. But he was like you — he loved the world, and he would do anything for the world. His world was pretty much wrapped up in the hunting-field: he did not care for anything but hunting. When his friends pressed on him to turn to God he replied: "Would not God bless me if I went to Him on my death-bed? I believe so in His goodness that if I were to turn to Him on my deathbed, the Lord would have mercy upon me; and then I will do it." So he calmed his soul, if troubled somewhat by the words that were spoken to him. One day he was hunting: he was on the back of an exceedingly fine horse, and, to make up to the hounds, he had to take a hedge. His horse sprang through the brushwood, but on the other side was a flock of sheep, which were frightened as he came over. They scampered right and left, and the horse was startled. It stumbled, and threw its rider. As he fell he was heard to say — not "God have mercy upon me" — not a bit of it! what he said was, "Devil take ye." He broke his neck, and died on the spot. Oh! procrastinating sinner! remember the last words of this man — so like you — were not, "God have mercy upon me," but, "Devil take ye." The devil did not take the sheep, but he took the godless rider that day. Take care, that he does not take you, my friend.