We Are Barabbas: What Good Friday Reveals About All of Us

Meta Description: On Good Friday, Matthew holds up a mirror at the cross — and what we see might surprise us. Discover what the cross really means for you personally.

Have you ever had a moment where the whole world you thought you knew just cracked open?

I'm talking about the kind of moment where something feels so wrong, so out of place, that your brain can't quite catch up with what your eyes are seeing. I had one of those moments in seventh grade. I was sitting in Miss Bailey's second-hour English class when a loud boom shook our building. Through our south-facing windows, we could see a massive cloud of smoke rising over downtown Oklahoma City. The entire classroom went silent. Nobody could process what they were seeing, because nobody was imagining that a building in the heart of Oklahoma City had just been blown up by a terrorist. That doesn't happen here. Not to us.

There are moments when evil feels so out of place — and sometimes in those moments, it can feel like evil is actually winning.

This past Sunday, we stepped into one of those moments together. Matthew 27 brings us to the cross — not just as a historical event to observe from a comfortable distance, but as a mirror that reflects something about every single one of us.

We Are Barabbas

When Pilate presents the crowd with a choice — release Jesus Barabbas or Jesus the Christ — most of us read that story and feel frustrated at the crowd. How could they choose Barabbas? But I think Matthew is doing something far more personal here. He's holding up a mirror.

We are Barabbas.

Barabbas wasn't misunderstood or falsely accused. He was an insurrectionist — violent, guilty, deserving of death. The Romans had intentionally kept him alive to make an example of him. And yet, because Jesus took his place, Barabbas walked free.

The Bible is clear about our own situation. Romans 3:23 says: "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." And Romans 6:23 follows: "For the wages of sin is death."

The penalty for sin was established long before any of us arrived on the scene. All the way back in Genesis 2:17, God told Adam and Eve: "But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die." The standard was set. The penalty was clear. And every one of us has missed that standard — not once, not twice, but countless times.

That's us. Guilty. Deserving judgment. And yet, on Good Friday, we are Barabbas — the ones who get to walk free because Jesus, the innocent one, took our place. Barabbas didn't do anything to earn his freedom. He didn't deserve it. He received it only because Jesus stepped in.

That's not just Barabbas's story. That's our story.

We Are the Crowd

But Matthew doesn't let us stop there. He shows us another image in the mirror: the crowd.

When Pilate tells the crowd he wants no part in Jesus's death, they respond with one of the most chilling statements in all of Scripture: "His blood be on us and on our children!" (Matthew 27:25). Matthew doesn't say a few people said this. He says all the people said it.

It's easy to read that and say, I would never. But if we're honest, we've all chosen our own way over God's way. We've all had moments where we've lived as if our will matters more than His. Every time we do, we're standing in that crowd.

Here's what I love about our God, though. What the crowd meant as a curse, He turned into a cure.

This was Passover — the same feast where, back in Exodus, the Israelites were commanded to take a lamb, apply its blood to their doorposts, and trust that judgment would pass over them. Those homes weren't spared because the people inside were perfect. They were spared because of the blood applied to them.

Centuries later, here's another Passover. Another lamb. The Lamb of God. The crowd cried out, "Let his blood be on us!" — and God essentially responded: Yes. That is the only way you could possibly be saved.

The very thing they spoke in rebellion became the blood that brings redemption. And because they said "on us and on our children," that blood has reached generation after generation — all the way to us, right here, right now.

We Are the Centurion

There's one more face in the mirror: the Roman centurion standing at the foot of the cross.

This man had overseen hundreds — maybe thousands — of executions. He knew exactly what crucifixion looked like. He came to Golgotha that morning just to do his job. He wasn't a theologian. He wasn't a disciple. He was a Roman soldier, a Gentile, an outsider by every religious definition.

And yet, when the earthquake came and he saw everything that had taken place, Matthew records his response: "Truly this was the Son of God!" (Matthew 27:54).

He came with no spiritual agenda. He left with an undeniable confession.

At some point, each of us gets a moment to stand at the foot of the cross and answer the same question Pilate asked: "What then shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?" (Matthew 27:22). Pilate tried to stay neutral. It didn't work. Neutrality is still a choice. The centurion, with no theological framework whatsoever, saw clearly and spoke the truth.

Will You Carry the Cross?

Hidden inside this passage is one more figure: Simon of Cyrene. On the road to Golgotha, soldiers grabbed him out of the crowd and compelled him to carry Jesus's cross. He didn't volunteer. He wasn't a disciple. He was just a man in the wrong place at the wrong time — or maybe exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

We don't know what Simon thought in that moment. But we know what happened after. Mark tells us that his sons, Rufus and Alexander, became well-known disciples — transformed by what their father witnessed and carried that day.

Sometimes we want all the benefits of the cross without the weight of it. We want the freedom of Barabbas without the willingness of Simon. But the cross is not just something that happened to Jesus. It's something that happened for us. And it's something that can still happen in us — if we let it.

Key Takeaways

• We are Barabbas — guilty, deserving judgment, yet walking free because Jesus took our place. The question is: how will we spend our freedom?
• We are the crowd — we've all chosen our own way. But what we meant as rebellion, God uses as redemption.
• We are the centurion — everyone gets a moment to respond to the cross personally. Neutrality is still a decision.
• We are invited to be Simon — not just to receive the gift of the cross, but to come underneath the weight of it and follow.

Good Friday wasn't the day evil won. It was the day love completed what it came to do.

The invitation that was extended that Friday afternoon is still open today. The question remains: Which Jesus will you choose?

If you've never responded to that invitation — or if you've been living like Jesus is a burden instead of a Savior — I'd love to talk with you. Reach out to us, or come find me any Sunday. We'd be honored to pray with you and help you take your next step.

Watch the full sermon on our YouTube channel, and share this post with someone who needs to hear it this week.

"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." — Romans 3:23 "For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." — Romans 6:23

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