FROM FETTERS TO FREEDOM

“Then he released Barabbas to them. But after having Jesus flogged, he handed Him over to be crucified.” (Mark 15:15 HCSB)

Three crosses were prepared by some obscure Jewish carpenter under contract with the Roman authority in Jerusalem.  They were rough hewn—simple but deadly in their effectiveness.  They would be erected on a skull-shaped hill.  Three heinous criminals—the vilest of the vile—would be executed on them.  The middle cross would hold the worst of the lot—the ringleader of sedition—a cutthroat named Barabbas. 

But, as we look closer, we see a different Man hanging there—His name is Jesus Christ.  He suffers the sentence which had fallen on Barabbas.  The Bible puts it this way, “For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring your mss read us

to God…” (1 Peter 3:18a).  The story of Barabbas is a beautiful illustration of this theological truth.

There is THE SIN THAT PRODUCES CAPTIVITY.

“At the festival it was Pilate’s custom to release for the people a prisoner they requested.  There was one named Barabbas, who was in prison with rebels who had committed murder during the rebellion.” (Mark 15:6-7) 

Barabbas is in prison—and deservedly so.  He is a criminal—a notorious one. Barabbas was a zealot, a fanatic, an opportunist—he may have had a messianic complex.  He was a revolutionary, an extremist, a terrorist.  His credo was, “Might makes right.” 

He was cut from the same cloth as Eric Rudolph who in the name of saving the life of the unborn, killed and maimed.   Barabbas would have made the FBI’s “Ten Most Wanted List” like Rudolph did. 

But, before we are too quick to condemn Barabbas, perhaps we should look into the mirror.  What we will see is Barabbas staring back.  Before you argue that you aren’t as bad as that, I will tell you that you are worse—and so am I.  Barabbas defied the authority of Rome; we have rebelled against the rule of heaven.   He rejected Caesar’s laws and we have transgressed a Holy God’s commandments. The Bible says, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…” (Romans 3:23).  I am Barabbas. 

We are prisoners of sin. Our nature is that of the rebel.  But in seeking freedom from God’s law, we become shackled by the very sins we practice—each act of disobedience adding another link in the irons of iniquity that imprison us.

So we face THE SENTENCE THAT PRONOUNCES CONDEMNATION.

“The crowd came up and began to ask [Pilate] to do for them as was his custom.  So Pilate answered them, ‘Do you want me to release the King of the Jews for you?’  For he knew it was because of envy that the chief priests had handed Him over.  But the chief priests stirred up the crowd so that he would release Barabbas to them instead. Pilate asked them again, ‘Then what do you want me to do with the One you call the King of the Jews?‘  Again they shouted, ‘Crucify Him!’  Then Pilate said to them, ‘Why? What has He done wrong?’  But they shouted, ‘Crucify Him!’ all the more. …They crucified two criminals with Him, one on His right and one on His left.  So the Scripture was fulfilled that says: And He was counted among outlaws.” (Mark 15:8-14, 27-28)

Barabbas is on Death Row.  A cross is being fashioned for him along with his co-conspirators.  There were three crosses raised to the sky from Golgotha.  The middle cross was justly reserved for Barabbas.  He would pay the ultimate price for his crimes.  Blood was on his hands and so his hands would be bloodied by the spikes that would pin him to the tree. 

Since we are all sinners, we are also deserving of condemnation.  The entire human race is on Death Row.  Scripture states “For the wages of sin is death…”  (Romans 6:23a). 

Man’s court can only take physical life as punishment for sin, but God’s Tribunal demands eternal death—the Lake of Fire.  That is the penalty we deserve.  I am Barabbas—and so are you.

But, rather than despair in that reality, here is to be found the height of hope!  For Barabbas there is THE SUBSTITUTE THAT PROVIDES COMPASSION.

“Then he released Barabbas to them. But after having Jesus flogged, he handed Him over to be crucified.”  (Mark 15:15) 

Literally, Jesus died in Barabbas’ place!

Yes, the wages of sin is death—as we are told in Romans 6:23.  That is only the first part of the verse, however!  The remainder takes us from doom to deliverance “but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  (Romans 6:23b) 

Barabbas’ theme song might have been, “I Should Have Been Crucified.”  The Gospel song states it this way:

I was guilty with nothing to say
And they were coming to take me away
But then a voice from Heaven was heard that said
"Let Him go and take me instead"

I should have been crucified
I should have suffered and died
I should have hung on the cross in disgrace
But Jesus, God's Son, took my place

Crown of thorns, the spear deep in His side
And those pains should have been mine
Those rusty nails were meant for me
Oh Jesus took them and let me go free

I should have been crucified
I should have suffered and died
I should have hung on the cross in disgrace
But Jesus, God's Son, took my place. (Gordon Jensen)

Picture this—Barabbas knows he faces death the next day—and he finds himself looking into his hands and rubbing his wrists at the place where the nails will be driven in.  When he drifts off into fitful sleep, periodically someone clangs a metal door shut and he awakens in a cold sweat, thinking he can hear the ringing of a metal hammer striking an iron spike and he is haunted by that harbinger of horror.

Finally, morning is breaking, a blood red sunrise—the dawn that is to become the sunset of his life.  He hears a tumult—a crowd gathering—those coming to watch him die in agony. 

From the distance the words come to him—they are calling his name, “Barabbas!”  He strains to hear, but the lone voice is too far away.  He cannot make out the words.  There is an interlude—a silence broken by the awful words, “Crucify him!”  Those words cause the blood to drain from his face—the very blood which he expects will within minutes drain from his body, a red river running down a rugged cross. 

The next sounds he hears are the hob-nailed boots of the Roman soldiers, coming to take him to Calvary.  Each step sounds a drumbeat, “Doom!  Doom! Doom!”—louder and louder, closer and closer.  A key is thrust into the lock, and with a squeal the massive door swings out on rusty hinges.  His heart races; his eyes grow wild; he presses back against the clammy stone wall as the door opens and the jail-keeper says, “You are free!” 

What?  Barabbas rubs his eyes.  He must be dreaming!  He is in shock—surely it can’t be true, and then he hears, “Go!  You are free!  Get out, dog!”  The rough hands that grab him and shove him out the cell; the swift kick to his backside assures him it is not a dream.

Walking out of his cell, he sees a Man, beaten and bloodied, soon to stagger as He carries a cross—the cross that was meant for Barabbas—the cross that was designed for you and for me!  I am Barabbas.

That is what Jesus did for us!  While we were yet sinners, Christ—the Son of God—died for the ungodly.  Jesus died for Barabbas and He died for us.

We don’t know how Barabbas responded to that.  There are traditions and legends, but the Bible doesn’t say.  He may have shrugged it off and returned to his old wicked ways, or he might have been stirred to become a follower of Christ.  We don’t know.  The story is open ended—and that means that each of us will write the final chapter of the saga in his story that becomes our story. 

How have you responded to such an incredible act of love?

Here is what I have done, and what we all should do, as captured by Isaac Watts’ grand hymn, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”:

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.