Who will you crown?
In the ancient theater of Jerusalem, beneath Roman banners and the searing eye of empire, a choice echoed—a question so simple, yet so seismic:
“Whom shall I release to you—Jesus or Barabbas?”
On the surface, it was a judicial formality. But beneath it lay an allegory for all of humanity: a courtroom not only of men but of the soul.
The Courtroom of the Cosmos
Pilate, the Roman governor, stood not merely as a political official, but as an unwitting oracle of choice—the human will poised between two kings.
On one side: Jesus of Nazareth, the quiet carpenter-king, bearing no sword but truth, no army but love.
On the other: Barabbas, a rebel and insurrectionist, guilty of violence against the Roman yoke.
Two kings.
Two kingdoms.
One crown to offer.
But the crowd—the crowd always mirrors us.
Barabbas: The Messiah We Want
Barabbas, whose name ironically means “son of the father” (Bar-Abba), represents the self-fashioned savior—the kind of messiah that stirs the zealot heart, revolts against external oppression, and uses might to conquer might.
He is the militant hope, the people's demand for immediate justice. In him, the crowd sees power reflected, and chooses freedom without transformation.
He is Rome’s shadow inside the heart of Israel—fighting empire with empire’s tools.
Jesus: The Messiah We Need
Then stands Jesus:
Silent. Unarmed. Unyielding.
He proclaims a kingdom not of this world—not because it's irrelevant to this one, but because it redefines it.
He does not storm Caesar’s palace; He storms the inner citadel of the heart.
He does not slay Rome's soldiers; He disarms death itself.
He does not take the throne by force; He mounts a cross by love.
He is not the mirror of our rage—but the mirror of who we are called to become.
Barnabas: The Forgotten Brother
And then there's Barnabas, the one history often overlooks. His name means “son of encouragement.” A quiet apostle, once named Joseph, who sold his land and gave it to the church, walking with Paul, advocating for the outcast.
If Barabbas is the impulsive crowd, and Jesus is the divine king, then Barnabas is the invitation—the whisper of grace that says:
You, too, can become like Him.
In the great allegory, Barnabas is us transformed: the son of encouragement, born again from the ashes of Barabbas into the likeness of Christ.
Rome: The Kingdom We Still Serve?
Rome was not just an empire; it was a state of mind.
Order without heart. Power without justice. Glory without grace.
It crowned emperors as gods and crucified God as a criminal.
But the question echoes still.
Not just “Jesus or Barabbas?”—but deeper:
Jesus or Caesar?
The cross or the sword?
The kingdom within or the kingdom above?
Who Is Your King?
We vote every day—not with ballots, but with hearts.
When we choose control over surrender, revenge over mercy, empire over humility—we cry out “Barabbas!” again.
But when we choose Jesus—truly choose Him—we walk not into political victory, but into resurrection. Into the fire that burns away the false self, and the Spirit that raises sons and daughters of encouragement.
So, in the courtroom of your soul…
With the world watching…
And your heart in the balance…
Who will you crown?
