This is my story - Barabbas
They called me a murderer. Some called me a hero. I knew better; the truth... the truth is that I am worse than a murderer. It was a tumultuous time. Riots against the Roman occupation were growing and I was a ringleader of the worst kind. We killed many a man and anybody else that got in the way. My title of murderer was earned on the account of the lynching I led against a Roman centurion who bravely stood his ground as his troops either died or fled in the face of the mobs. He died with out so much a cry of help, fighting fiercely till suddenly he stood still, looked to the skies and surrendered his life to.... to God? I had no idea.
David Roiel |
| Courtesy of bu7amd; text by D.R. |
While I languished in a first class Roman prison of the pristine Roman province of Palestina, I fancied myself a martyr of sorts. The day came when they told me it was my turn for crucifixion, during the Passover. That's when I saw Him for the first the time. They stood me beside Him. Not a Man, but more like an animal, bloody and beaten to a pulp and yet, He was crowned, somehow majestically and absurdly at the same time (this I can not describe) with a crown of thorns. His eyes glowed nonetheless, they were bright and dark and fixed at something unseen. Pilate asked the crowds who they would have him release and the crowds roared my name... Barabbas! Barabbas! Barabbas! I was their hero.
So I was let go. I couldn't believe it. I went through the crowd as if it was a dream. The Man I saw, I left behind and into a sea of shouts and cheers I swam. And though I was overjoyed to breathe the fresh air, in my mind's eye, I still saw His eyes blazing away into the nothingness of that bloody crowd. I saw them all for who they really were. They were all dead men who cheered for a dead man - me, that is. They were all dead in front of the Life whom they condemned to death so zealously.
I had heard of this Man, but only vaguely. They say He healed the sick, the blind, the lame. He was powerful over the demons and yet, for a such a powerful Man, He was gentle, a teacher, one who blessed children and embraced the outcast. You can't defeat an empire like that! If you've got power, use it against those who have it! I had no idea.
I didn't leave the crowd. Soon after my release the mob followed this Man up Skull Hill as He carried His cross, with the other two thieves who weren't as fortunate as I. And as I went up, I thought to myself "That would have been me. That would have been me!" I followed the crowds, lingering at a distance.
And when they finally lifted Him on the tree, I saw this Man bow His head. I saw the skies darkening, I felt the earth shaking. As He took His last breathe the entire creation sighed in sadness.
All this passed. A few days later, they said He rose from the dead. Suddenly thousands are followers of what they called the Way, worshiping this Man whom they said rose from the dead. I was curios to know more. This Man died in my place and I wanted to know His story.
I entered into their room one day were a hundred or so had gathered. And there a man stood praying, "Lord, thank You for dying for me. Thank You that You took my place, my curse, my sin and you paid for it all." Right then I knew those words were really mine and belonged to me more than anyone else who stood in that place. I froze, completely dumbstruck as if a rod of lighting had struck my heart. And I also knew, that of all the people of the earth, I was the worst, the least deserving.
And then another came to me.
"Your name is Barabbas... son of a father [that's what it means, you know]"
I nodded. How he came to know my name, I didn't know. I was only aware of one thing... His presence. His presence.
"Well, this Jesus we preach," he went on, "He gives you the right to be a son of the Father... will you take it?"
The One and Only Son of God, died for me, literally. He took my place so I could take His. I was the son of a father, now I know who I really am... I am a son of the Father. And that is my story.
Barabbas
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