Sleep was coming hard for me.  I knew I was going to die.  I deserved it.  I had a very guilty conscience.  I lived with the constant fear that “they would be coming to take me away.”  My sleepless nights gave me plenty of time to reflect on the events that brought me to this.

Since I was young, I have been a leader.  I would do things and others would follow.  And I found that to be true even when I did things I shouldn’t.  I would pull pranks to irritate adults and others would join me.  After a while, we wanted to up the stakes, so that led to small acts of vandalism.  Then larger ones.  Then petty theft.  Taking a few things here and there.  And after a while, when it seems that you are above the law, it isn’t hard to graduate into outright rebellion and insurrection.

I became a rebel of rebels.  Against my parents.  My teachers.  My God.  Doing the wrong thing started to thrill me.  I enjoyed angering people and rebelling against authority, and when I had the boldness and audacity to defy accepted rules, I found it gave me great respect from my peers!  The crowd loved it!  The naughtier I could be, the more attention I would get.

Petty theft turned into outright robbery.  I fed my greed – because I wanted to have the nice things of the world.  Being concerned about some “cause” was often just an excuse to be selfish.  To serve my own needs at the expense of others.  And that finally led to murder.  I committed murder.  I found that I could do it.  And was even able to stomach it.  Somehow I became able to “by-pass” my conscience and do it.  Why?  Out of complete selfishness, I guess… that my needs, my cause, my life…could be more important than the life of another…

But now it has all caught up to me.  My sin has found me out.  I’ve been convicted.  I’m a criminal.  A rebel.  An evil person.  A danger to others.  A danger to myself.  I can no longer hide that fact.  Or run from it.  Or pretend I am something else.  Now I have to come face to face with it.  That’s why I’m living in fear and guilt.  I’m no longer free.  I’m a prisoner.  Faced to see myself as I really am.  Having to live with the fear that they will be coming for me any day.  Could be today…  I know I’m going to die.  And I’m sure it will be painful.

But even worse, what happens then?  If there is really a God out there, and if that God really holds true to what He says, that is the scariest thing of all.  Makes me sweat just thinking about it.  I hate the feeling of guilt.  Don’t you?  I dread the reality that I’m going to die.  Don’t you?  And I fear it is going to be painful.  Don’t you?

I guess there were some other prisoners in that cell with me, then.

So on that final morning, the sun rose, and the guards came and got me from my cell.  They were rough with me, but what should I expect?  I was a murderer.  A rabble rouser.  An insurrectionist.  A causer of rebellion.  A selfish, sinful man.  They chained me up.  They took me down a dark, filthy corridor.  I could hear the mob outside, chanting for blood.  I climbed a long stairwell with my feet chained together, the chains rattling on the stones.  We reached a massive wooden door.  The soldier gripped the bolt and slid it free, then shoved the door open.  The light from the courtyard was blinding.  I tried shielding my eyes from the light, but my shackled hands couldn’t reach my face.  I could only try to look away and squint against the brilliance of the sun that surrounded me.

The mob was yelling.  Cheering.  The world around me was cheering me on.  Cheering, it seemed, for me.  Really?  I almost smiled until I saw the look on the governor’s face, showing what he thought about the cheering.  This judge was sitting on his throne, surveying the scene.  Looking at the crowd.  Looking at me.  He raised his hand to silence the crowd.

That’s when I became aware of another presence, another person standing opposite me on the platform.  He was also bound with chains.  He stood calmly, freely, poised, unperturbed.  His white robe glistened in the sun.  His face did not reflect worry or anger or complaint or fear or hatred or vengeance.

I knew who this was!  I had seen Him before.  I had even heard Him speak.  I had listened to him talk about the “kingdom of God.”  This was Jesus of Nazareth.  And I knew He had a lot of good things to say.  But I was still convinced that my way, the way of rebellion, was better than his.

He turned and looked at me.  A look I had never seen before.  He looked into me.  Through me.  Could He read my thoughts?  It seemed so!  He seemed to know me, know everything about me: my fear, my doubt, my uncertainty, my ambition, my anger…everything.  I felt so dirty, so unclean, so unworthy standing next to Him.

Then the Judge spoke.  He said He was going to set one of us free: “Jesus, who is called the Christ…”  Or me.  No!! Don’t let THAT be the choice!!

I knew it was over for me.  Now this person, whose ways I so blatantly had mocked and opposed, the one I laughed at for saying you can even murder someone by hating them… He was going to get the last laugh!  He was going to be released, obviously.  He was going to smile and say “I told you so.”  He was probably going to enjoy seeing me get mine.  He was going to be the one set free.  That is as obvious as first grade math.

But what I didn’t count on is how important all those people were to that Judge.  And apparently, the Judge decided it would be best for all the people that He, Jesus, wouldn’t be set free!  Are you ready for the jaw-dropper??  The shock of shocks??  I WAS SET FREE!!  And THIS INNOCENT MAN WENT TO SUFFER MY DEATH!!  My chains were unlocked!  I was free!  I was released right on the spot.  My crimes were paid for!  By HIM.

The soldiers began mocking Him, whipping Him, laughing at Him, beating Him, and cursing Him.  Which they should have been doing to me.  Put a crown of thorns on his head.  Put a cross on his back and made Him carry it to where He would be nailed on it and die.  Instead of me.  And I got to go free.  Instead of Him.  Those were my nails.  I was the one to be crucified on that cross…

… I, Joel Schulz.

Oh…did you think that I was Barabbas?  …I guess I could have been… but I was talking about me.  I am guilty of rebellion, robbery, insurrection, and murder.  I can’t pretend otherwise.  These things had me locked in a prison of guilt.

As do all of our shortcomings… our anger streak that messes up relationships… our selfishness that causes friction with others… our laziness and apathy which leads us to avoid giving God the honour He deserves… our hidden thoughts: hatred, jealousy, and lust…in other words: murder, coveting, and adultery!  All of these things make us FILTHY as we stand next to Jesus!  He is PERFECT!  As Pilate’s wife noted, He was INNOCENT.  He deserved Eternal Life!  I don’t!  You don’t!

But somehow… in a most bizarre twist of fate, in a storybook ending we could never imagine, but one that is true, from a God who loves you and me in a way we can’t even begin to comprehend, our guilt was placed on Jesus!  HE died for US!  WE go FREE!  You gotta be kidding me, right?  How can we make any sense of this thing called GRACE?

It’s interesting that a few old manuscripts say that Barabbas’ first name is Jesus.  Jesus Barabbas.  It’s also interesting that the name “Bar-abbas” most likely means “son of the father.”  So it’s a startling choice Pilate presents to the people: “Who do you want me to release to you: Jesus, son of the father?  Or Jesus, The Son of the Father?”  The one who hates his enemies or the one who loves his enemies?

You and I are Barabbas!  Sons of our fathers.  Like him, we are guilty.  Like him, we deserve to die.  But instead, we are free, because Jesus, The Son of The Father, died instead of us!  He took our place!  And now, we are no longer “sons of our fathers,” but “Sons of The Father” through faith in his Son! Galatians 3:26-27 says: “You are all sons of God through faith in Jesus Christ, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.”

So how can we not be new people now?  Living differently?  Like we have just been set free?  Can you not identify with Barabbas?  You are Barabbas!  So am I!  Are we going to go back to our old murdering ways?  Or… or are we going to spend the rest of our lives telling others about this amazing JESUS, who took our cross so we wouldn’t have to?  This Jesus, who asks his Father on behalf of us who were set free instead of Him: “Father, forgive them.”  Amen.