I am Barabbas, fully guilty of my crimes,
Dark and heinous offences, caught red-handed, doing time
With no chance of parole, no hope of release.
The law demanded justice for my wicked misdeeds.
Summoned from my cell, I await my conviction,
The sound of an angry mob grows louder as I listen;
“Crucify Him”, they chant from just outside the gate,
My heart starts racing as I ponder my fate.
Dragged by my shackles out into the daylight,
Disrobed and exposed, I slowly regained my sight.
A sea of indignant voices calling for blood.
The gavel strikes with a deafening thud.
To my bewilderment I’m declared acquitted.
In my place a holy man, stricken, smitten, and afflicted.
What grace is this that someone as reprehensible as me
Should be cleared of all wrongdoing and stand set free?
I am Peter, hand-chosen by the Lord,
Witness to miracles that could not be ignored,
Impossible things, like blind men receiving sight,
Water turned to wine, dead raised to life.
I swore I’d follow Him to the grave.
I declared, “You are the Christ, the one who saves”
Even when He called me out onto the waves,
As long as I could see Him, I knew I was safe.
But now, what’s become of my saviour?
How could He let this happen? Now I’m afraid for
My life. So I cower in the corner,
Trying my best to blend in with the scorners
But I’m called out as a follower of Jesus,
Three times I deny it and I’m brought to pieces.
Bitterly, I weep as I feel the gravity
Of my treason, my total depravity.
Lest I forget Gethsemane
Lest I forget Your agony
Lest I forget Your love for me
Lead me to Calvary
I am Caiaphas, high priest of the Jews,
God’s anointed one, a VIP who’s who
The best seat in the synagogue reserved in my name
Phylacteries and fringes adorning my frame
All 613 laws I know by heart.
Nothing goes down in this town without my part.
But Jerusalem appears to be on the verge of a revolt
Over a man from Galilee who rode in on a colt.
Who is this Nazarene who invokes such tenacity?
Who speaks with God’s authority, has the audacity,
To claim to be the Son of Man, the promised Messiah,
Prophesied by Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Zechariah?
I can’t believe it, I won’t receive it.
If one man should die for the people, so be it.
If His offensive claims are true, then I’m living a lie.
Preposterous! The man has to die.
I am Pilate. Shouldn’t I be above this mayhem?
I find no guilt in this man, but who am I to sway them?
So to keep the peace, I wash my hands of remorse,
Claiming innocence of the injustice I now endorse.
I am Judas, plotting in the darkness of night,
Thinking that my secrets could be hidden from His sight.
Even though he knew I’d gone so amiss,
He called me his friend as I betrayed Him with a kiss.
I’m the crowds that spat into His face with scorn.
I’m the guards that endowed Him with a crown of thorns.
I’m the hands that nailed His broken body to a tree,
The spectators that stood by in apathy.
I’m the criminal on the cross that reviled His name
Even as His innocent blood was spilled for my sin and shame.
And I’m the criminal for whom He paid the ultimate price
And promised to welcome home into paradise.
released October 17, 2016
Written and Recorded by Joel Jacob Dipert
all rights reserved