My time had come. I was ready to pay the ultimate price for my horrendous crime. I had steeled myself. I knew it was going to be a crucifixion – the most awful of deaths. But it was nothing more than I deserved, a life for a life – that’s what they say.
My guilt was obvious. But this man, Jesus, his innocence was obvious. They accused him of starting some sort of rebellion, but really, that was a poor excuse – compared to what I had done. It is customary on the Passover to release a prisoner, so when the judge asked the crowd who they wanted to be released, all I heard was, “We want Barabbas!!” That’s what they said over and over again.
They wanted me instead of Jesus. Who was I to argue? This guy didn’t stand a chance.
So here I am – released, a free man, no longer a criminal bound in chains. Hanging on a cross right now between my two old accomplices is a man they call, “Jesus, The King of the Jews. ”
He’s there in my place.
The blame that should have been mine is his.
The nails that should have been pounded into my hands and feet now hold him to the wood.
The spear that should have been in my side pierces his.
Looking back I see so clearly how he died in my place and what that actually meant – His life for my life.