04/04/2026
During the Roman occupation of Judea, there was a custom every Passover. The Roman governor would release one prisoner as a gesture to the people.
It sounded like mercy.
But on that particular Passover morning, mercy would look far different than anyone expected.
Because the prisoner standing in chains that day was Barabbas.
The Gospels describe him as notorious.
Not misunderstood.
Not falsely accused.
Not someone who had simply made a mistake.
Other passages reveal even more about the kind of man he was.
• Mark 15:7 says he was involved in rebellion.
• Luke 23:19 says he committed murder.
• John 18:40 calls him a robber.
Barabbas was not a petty criminal.
He was a violent revolutionary.
The kind of man Rome crucified without hesitation.
And somewhere outside the city of Jerusalem, a cross was already waiting.
Most likely, that cross had his name on it.
Barabbas knew what was coming.
Roman crucifixion was slow, public, and brutal.
He would not simply die.
He would be made an example.
Then suddenly, something unexpected happened.
The Roman governor Pontius Pilate brought another prisoner forward.
A man who had never taken a life.
A man who healed the sick, restored the broken, and preached the kingdom of God.
His name was 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭.
Pilate looked at the crowd and asked a question:
“𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮: 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐚𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐡?” (v17)
Two men stood before the people.
Barabbas.
Jesus.
And there is a detail many readers miss.
The name Barabbas literally means “son of the father.”
Some ancient manuscripts even record his name as Jesus Barabbas.
So the crowd was unknowingly facing a shocking contrast.
Two “sons of the father.”
One was the true Son of God.
The other was a violent criminal.
One healed.
The other destroyed.
One gave life.
The other took it.
Pilate already knew what was happening.
Scripture tells us he realized that Jesus had been handed over because of envy.
The religious leaders had watched Him heal the blind.
They saw Him cleanse the temple.
They heard Him expose their hypocrisy.
They could not control Him.
They could not silence Him.
So they decided to eliminate Him.
The chief priests began stirring the crowd.
And suddenly the same city that shouted “Hosanna” days earlier began shouting something far darker.
Pilate asked again:
“𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮?” (v21)
And the crowd answered with one word.
𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐚𝐬.
Think about what just happened.
The murderer is chosen.
The healer is rejected.
The guilty is favored.
The innocent is abandoned.
Pilate asked them again in verse 22:
“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐡?”
And the crowd shouted back with terrifying unity:
“𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐦!”
Crucifixion was the most humiliating and brutal form of ex*****on the Roman Empire could design.
And they demanded it for the only truly innocent man who ever lived.
Pilate even asked:
“𝐖𝐡𝐲? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝?” (v23)
But the crowd didn’t care about truth anymore.
They only shouted louder.
“𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐦!”
No evidence.
No justice.
Only rage.
And then the moment came.
Pilate released Barabbas.
But Jesus Christ was flogged and handed over to be crucified.
And right there, before the cross was even raised,
the Gospel was already unfolding.
The guilty man walked out of prison.
The innocent man walked toward Golgotha.
Barabbas went free.
Jesus took his place.
Barabbas never argued for mercy.
He never defended himself.
He never proved he deserved freedom.
Yet suddenly the chains were removed from his hands.
Because someone else would carry the cross meant for him.
And this is where the story stops being about Barabbas.
Because the uncomfortable truth is this:
𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐚𝐬.
We are the guilty ones.
We are the rebels.
We are the sinners whose lives have been stained with pride, anger, selfishness, and brokenness.
The cross should have been ours.
The punishment should have been ours.
But Jesus Christ stepped forward.
The Son of God stood where the criminal stood.
The innocent took the place of the guilty.
The righteous died for the rebellious.
Barabbas walked away with a life he did not deserve.
And so do we.
The Gospel never tells us what happened to Barabbas after that day.
Scripture leaves his story unfinished.
Almost as if the question is now meant for us.
What will we do with the life that Jesus gave back to us?
Because the cross was ours.
And yet Christ carried it.
The nails were meant for us.
And yet Christ took them.
The punishment belonged to us.
And yet Christ bore it.
That is not just mercy.
That is 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.
And every time we look at the cross, we should remember the truth that confronts every human heart:
𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐚𝐬.
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