Released
Luke 23:18-19, 24-25 (ESV)- “But they all cried together,
‘Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas’- a man who had been thrown
into prison for an insurrection started in the city and for murder. He (Pontius
Pilate) released the man who had been thrown into prison, for whom they asked,
but he released Jesus over to their will.”
Ephesians 2:8-9 (ESV)- “For by grace you have been saved
through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a
result of works, so that no one may boast.”
The day
started like any other day I had spent in that God-forsaken place. The guards
threw a dried chunk of bread into my cell for breakfast. For the hundredth
time, I retraced my steps to the door slowly and painfully. The chains and
shackles nearly dragged me down as I reached for the bread. Then I gnawed on
what was edible and helped myself to the dripping trickle of water on the wall.
After that, I sat down on my straw bed once more, stared at the ceiling, and
waited,and remembered. Remembered why I had been thrown into this hole.
Remembered the riot I had caused in the Temple compound. Remembered how
zealously I yelled about freeing Jerusalem from pagan influences. I remembered
the chaos of anger and rage that was unleashed afterwards. The rest of what I
could recall came in short flashes. The mounted soldiers, the terrified people
trampled underfoot, the lifted fists, and then the stone that had struck and
killed the centurions’ captain.
I was to be
put on trial before the governor following the Passover. The charges being
levied against me were insurrection and murder. I knew I did not stand much of
a chance. At best, I would be scourged; at worst, I would be crucified. I
prayed daily that Yahweh would protect my soon-to-be widow and fatherless
children. The few pennies from my wages that were left after taxes had been
just enough to get us by. With myself gone, I could imagine themstarving, homeless,
and begging on the streets. The masses continued by with a cold shoulder and an
evil eye. I could just hear their thoughts: We
will have nothing to do with the wife of Barabbas. You are outcasts. Your
husband started the mess we are in. You have no one but yourself and your
husband to thank for the situation you are in.
But that was
before I was released. Voices echoed down the hall that day, louder than usual.
I heardshort bits and pieces of the guards’ conversation as they went by. From
what I could gather, Jesus of Nazareth was on trial before Pilate. I had never
cared much for his teachings. Though he had preached peace, loving your
enemies, and turning the other cheek, they were definitely not the methods to
drive Romans out of Israel. However, for him to be tried and possibly executed?
That was unfathomable. The rabbi had not done anything worthy of death.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps boomed throughout the dungeon. Two
guards appeared at my door, unlocked the door, and took off my chains. They
told me to get up and come with them. I was confused. My trial was not until
the end of the week. Surely I was not being released? Up the winding stairs we
went, passing the cell doors where each prisoner was standing there with an
astonished look on their faces. I was the last person who should have been
taken out of that prison. Maybe the soldiers had been ordered to execute me
without the people’s knowledge. Whatever I was thinking, it was completely
different from what happened next.
I was
totally unprepared for the scene set before me. We had arrived at the top level
of the fortress and were standing on the large patio in front. Pontius Pilate,
the governor, stood away from us with arms lifted in exasperation. The columns
towered high above us while large steps descended into the courtyard. At the
bottom, it was filled to the brim with an angry mob. I could not at first make
out what they were chanting and screaming. Then I felt my heart drop into my
stomach and my mouth spread wide open. They were yelling, “Release to us
Barabbas. Away with this man to crucifixion!” I couldn’t believe my ears. They
wanted to set me free! I had been picked as part of a Passover custom performed
each year. The citizens of Jerusalem would choose one prisoner that was in the
fortress, and the governor would clear all charges laid against him. I was so
excited, until I saw the man who was to take my place. It was Jesus, the
teacher. He had been beaten into a bloody pulp. A battered, torn robe of purple
barelycovered his broken skin. Circling his head, a makeshift crown fashioned
out of long thorns had been pounded into his brow. Enormous pools of blood
collected at his feet. Only one thought passed through my head: No. I can’t do this. I can’t let him be killed.
He doesn’t deserve this!
Before I
knew what was happening, the guards shoved me forward and I fell down the
steps. I slowly rose up and looked at Jesus, the man who was to sacrifice
himself for me. The only thing I could notice was his eyes: his deep, dark,
piercing, loving, compassionate, and merciful eyes. Eyes that drew you in; eyes
that were saying, “All is forgiven. You
are completely and utterly forgiven.” And then the slightest smile of love.
It was too much. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stumbled down the stairs
and ran through the parted crowd. All I could think was that he was going to be
killed for me and my wrongs. I had been released, and I would never forget the
one who had bought my life with his own blood.
Romans 5:6-8
(ESV)- “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the
ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person- though perhaps for a
good person one would even dare to die- but God shows his love for us in that
while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
Great stuff. Loved it.
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