My name’s Barabbas
I have been locked up by the Roman government for a while now
One day I know that I will come out of this prison
But only to receive my death sentence
I have been a threat to society, to the Jews and to the Romans
I have led an insurrection against the Roman authority
I have murdered men and women alike
And now, the day has finally come
I am being led out in chains
I can see my end even from where I stand
And this is the day that I receive the ramifications for my crimes
For the lives that I squeezed out of many
For the terror that accompanied my presence
For the tears that I caused to fall
This day I shall be made to pay
Now, I stand before the citizens
Their eyes are full of rage
Beside me stands one whom they call Jesus
Looking so tortured and pitiful
Even though I was long bound by the prison walls
The news of this man’s goodness seeped through the cracks and crevices
I have heard of how he freely healed and freely fed them
So my mind cannot seem to guess a possible reason why He should be in this position
What could His crime possibly be?
Could He have done a deed more sinful than mine?
Could He have murdered more lives than I did?
Then Pilate arose from His seat
The whole place turned dead silent
I can almost feel their anger piercing me
Though I am aware of my fate
My heart would not stop beating in fear
There is no turning back now
Even if I plead, who would hear my cause?
Then Pilate spoke…
The words rang in my ears like a beautiful song
Not even in my dreams would I have anticipated those words
“Which of these do I release to you?” Pilate asked
I wondered “did I hear right?”
“Am I really being considered as a candidate to be freed?”
“Do I even merit this question?”
“Am I not the one who led an insurrection against the authority?”
I thought to myself “Certainly, they would choose the good Christ over Barabbas, the murderer?”
But no, they didn’t.
The Jews, the Scribes, the Priests, they all shouted in unison
“Free Barabbas, free Barabbas!”
At that point, I would bet that I was dreaming
Pilate tried to ask them what exactly Jesus had done wrong
But the crowd shouted louder and louder as their rage increased
I thought their anger was directed at me
I thought their boiling rage was because of me
But no, it wasn’t
My tears are freely falling
My hands are simply quavering
A divine substitute is being made
My freedom for His death
By tonight, an innocent man would have been killed in my stead
Oh the lives I took
Oh the tears I made fall
Oh the pleas I did not listen to
Oh the torment I put them through
I just cannot comprehend
My sins are simply flooding my mind
A substitute for me?
How can I deserve this?
He has been chosen to die in my stead
I can live, eat and sleep once again
Because an innocent is going to be tortured and crucified
He has not uttered a word
His tears only roll down His cheeks
His eyes are filled with compassion
And a love so divine exudes from them
My name is Barabbas
And I am a sinner
On this day, I deserved to die
But I am beholding a man called Christ
Being whipped and taken to the cross
A substitute for me
I need no man to tell me this day
That this is divine grace.
My name is Barabbas
And I have been spared.
We all, like Barabbas were the culprits… but Christ was made the substitute.