Not This Man, but Barabbas!
Matthew 27:15–26; Mark 15:6–15; Luke 23:18–25; John 18:39–40
The cry still rings out across the centuries. It first rose from the throats of a religious crowd in Jerusalem, and it has never been silenced. When Pontius Pilate set Jesus of Nazareth before the people and offered to release one prisoner according to the custom of the feast, that multitude answered with one voice: “Not this man, but Barabbas!”
That cry reveals more than a historical record. It exposes the settled preference of the carnal heart whenever the true Christ of Scripture confronts it. The religious people of that day—the ones who possessed the law, kept the feasts, and claimed to be the people of God—had no real use for Jesus. They preferred another kind of man living among them. They preferred Barabbas.
The Man They Chose
A Notable Prisoner
The Word of God leaves no doubt about the character of the man they demanded. The Holy Ghost does not present Barabbas as a misunderstood patriot or a rough but well-meaning freedom fighter. He names his crimes in plain language.
Matthew 27:16 calls him “a notable prisoner, called Barabbas.” The word “notable” means he was well-known, conspicuous, and notorious. His name and his deeds were already familiar. He had made a reputation through violence and rebellion.
Murder and Insurrection
Mark 15:7 declares, “And there was one named Barabbas, which lay bound with them that had made insurrection with him, who had committed murder in the insurrection.” Insurrection means an open rising against authority, a collective rebellion that aims to overthrow or resist the power that rules. The murder he committed was not a private quarrel; he shed blood in the service of political upheaval.
Sedition and Robbery
Luke 23:19 adds, “(Who for a certain sedition made in the city, and for murder, was cast into prison.)” Sedition means the deliberate stirring of rebellion against lawful authority. It is the work of inflaming discontent and gathering men into open defiance. Luke 23:25 records the result: “And he released unto them him that for sedition and murder was cast into prison, whom they had desired; but he delivered Jesus to their will.”
John 18:40 finishes the picture: “Then cried they all again, saying, Not this man, but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a robber.” In that day a robber often meant a bandit who seized by force what did not belong to him, frequently under the cover of resistance.
Put it together and the record is clear. Barabbas was a notorious man of violence. He was a murderer. He took part in insurrection. He was guilty of sedition. He was a robber. He stood for force, bloodshed, defiance of authority, and the taking of power by human strength. That is the man the religious crowd preferred to the Son of God. They had no use for the Saviour of mankind. They wanted Barabbas living among them.
The Irony of His Name
Even his name bears a solemn irony. “Barabbas” means “son of the father.” The people rejected the true Son of the Father and chose a counterfeit who bore the name while living a life that contradicted everything the Father requires. They preferred a son marked by murder, rebellion, and robbery over the obedient Son who came to do the will of Him that sent Him. The choice was theological. It revealed the kind of “son” the religious heart truly desired.
Why the Crowd Preferred Him
Barabbas offered what the flesh always finds useful. He was a man of visible action. He took what he wanted. He struck at the power that oppressed them. He dealt in force. His life embodied the hope of a kingdom that men could seize by strength rather than receive by repentance. He looked like a deliverer who would fight the way men prefer to fight—with the sword, with blood, and with open defiance.
Jesus looked like the opposite. He refused the sword when Peter drew it. He called men to repent rather than to rise up in rebellion. He commanded love for enemies rather than hatred of them. He spoke of a cross and of dying to self. He would not allow men to manage Him, use Him, or turn Him into a tool for national ambition or personal vindication. He claimed absolute authority over the Temple, over the Sabbath, over sin, and over the human heart. He would not conform to the expectations of a Messiah who would restore political glory by force.
The religious leaders stirred up the people. Those leaders and the people they stirred could tolerate zeal, boldness, and even conflict with Rome. What they could not tolerate was a Messiah who refused to bend to their expectations. So they rejected the true Son and embraced the man who matched their desires. “Not this man, but Barabbas!”
This was not the cry of pagan idolaters alone. People who had the Scriptures, who sang the psalms, who observed the Passover, and who believed themselves loyal to the God of Abraham raised this cry. Their religion did not save them from the preference. In many ways it sharpened it. They wanted a deliverer who would confirm their identity, advance their cause, and leave their self-rule largely untouched. The Lord Jesus Christ would do none of those things on their terms.
The Spirit Behind the Cry
The spirit of Barabbas is the preference for a saviour made in the image of the flesh. It is the desire for a deliverer who will fight our battles the way we want them fought, hate the people we want hated, and secure the outcomes we most desire—while requiring little or no death to self. It is the determination to keep the language of faith while exchanging the real Christ for a more useful substitute.
This spirit is the natural posture of the unregenerate heart and of the carnal Christian whenever the true Christ of Scripture confronts them. The flesh wants the benefits of salvation without the demand of the cross. It wants the name of Christ without the authority of Christ. It wants a kingdom that looks like power, victory, and public vindication rather than a kingdom that advances through repentance, humility, and self-denial. The cry in Jerusalem simply expressed a preference that still operates wherever religion refuses to let Christ be Lord on His own terms.
The Same Cry in Modern Religion
That cry has not grown silent. Much of what calls itself Christianity today still says the same thing in substance if not in exact words.
It has little real use for Jesus as the King James Bible reveals Him—the holy, the lowly, the One who demands the death of self, the One who will not bless bitterness, pride, or the hunger for dominance. But it would gladly welcome a Barabbas living among them.
A Barabbas who will advance their side by forceful means.
A Barabbas who shares their enemies and is willing to strike without restraint.
A Barabbas who offers visible strength, public victory, and the satisfaction of seeing opponents brought low.
A Barabbas who leaves the heart of self-rule untouched while promising to fight the battles they most want fought.
Many who claim the name of Christ would rather have that spirit walking among them than the true Saviour. They will sing about Jesus, quote selected verses, and speak of His blood—yet when the real Christ confronts their preferences, their grievances, their hunger for power, and their self-importance, the old cry rises again: “Not this man, but Barabbas!”
When Churches Prize Fighting Over Feeding
This preference appears when churches prize leaders who “fight” more than leaders who feed the flock and watch for souls. Men redefine strength as aggression. They redefine boldness as contempt. They press the language of spiritual warfare into the service of earthly score-settling. The result is a religious culture more comfortable with the spirit of insurrection and sedition than with the spirit of the old rugged cross.
When Anger Is Preferred to Forgiveness
It appears when professing believers prefer a Jesus who affirms their anger over the Jesus who commands them to put away bitterness and forgive. The Bible records that the Lord Jesus loved His enemies and prayed for those who crucified Him. The spirit of Barabbas has no interest in that path. It prefers the satisfaction of striking back. When modern religion makes room for that preference, it chooses the notorious prisoner over the Saviour.
When Self-Denial Is Set Aside
It appears when men set aside the clear demand for self-denial in favor of a message that leaves the self largely intact. The Lord Jesus said, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.” The spirit of Barabbas has no use for that word. It wants the benefits of the cross without its claim on the life. It wants a Saviour who secures outcomes without requiring the death of pride, greed, self-righteousness, and the love of power.
When Dominance Replaces Holiness
It appears when churches become more concerned with public dominance and cultural influence than with holiness and separation. The true Christ builds a kingdom that is not of this world in its methods. The spirit of Barabbas seeks a kingdom that looks like the kingdoms of this world—men seize it by force, maintain it by power, and measure it by visible success. When religious people prefer that vision, they cry in substance, “Not this man, but Barabbas!”
In all these ways, much of modern religion reveals that it has limited use for the Christ of Scripture while remaining comfortable with a Barabbas-like spirit in its midst. Men retain the name of Christ. They reshape the character of Christ until it more closely resembles the man the crowd preferred.
The Cost of the Choice
When the crowd in Jerusalem got what it asked for, Barabbas walked free and Jesus was led away to be crucified. The notorious man of blood returned to the city. The Saviour of mankind was rejected and delivered over to death. The exchange was total. They received the one they desired and refused the One they needed.
The same exchange still takes place whenever religion prefers the spirit of Barabbas. Men welcome the violent, the self-willed, and the grasping under new justifications. They set aside the true Christ or reinterpret Him until He no longer confronts. They keep the language of faith, but their heart has chosen another. They do not merely lose doctrinal accuracy. They lose the presence and authority of the real Saviour. A church that prefers Barabbas may keep its activities, its numbers, and its public voice, yet it has traded the living Christ for a counterfeit spirit.
That choice produces certain fruit. Where men prefer the spirit of murder, insurrection, sedition, and robbery—whether in literal form or in spiritual form—they lose peace, despise humility, make love of enemies unthinkable, and reduce the cross to a symbol rather than a way of life. Such a company may appear strong for a season. It is not strong with the strength that comes from Christ.
The Gospel That Breaks the Cry
Yet the Gospel does not leave the matter in condemnation alone. The same Jesus who heard the cry “Not this man, but Barabbas!” prayed for those who uttered it. The blood they demanded is the only blood that can cleanse the heart that still prefers Barabbas. Only the Spirit of the Son Himself can break the spirit that shouts against the true Son, and He does it only at the place where He was crucified in the place of sinners.
The cross ends the spirit of Barabbas. There God numbered the true Son of the Father with the transgressors. There men treated the Innocent as the guilty so that God might treat the guilty as the righteous. There the desire for a saviour of force and self-will was exposed and overcome by the Saviour who gave Himself. No amount of religious activity, political effort, or cultural strategy can break the preference for Barabbas. Only the crucified and risen Christ can do that work in the human heart.
This is why the preaching of the cross must remain central. It does not merely inform the mind. It confronts the will. It asks whether the hearer will continue to prefer the notorious man of violence and self-assertion, or whether he will receive the Saviour who was rejected in order that rebels might be reconciled.
The Question That Remains
The choice has not changed. It still stands before every heart that claims the name of Christ, every congregation, and every individual who professes to know Him.
Will we have this Man—the Saviour of all mankind—or will we have Barabbas?
Will we receive the One who lays down His life, or the one who takes life to secure his own way?
Will we bow to the King who reigns from a cross, or keep company with the rebel who promises power without dying to self?
Will we tolerate and even welcome the spirit of force, grievance, and self-will among us, or will we submit to the authority of the true Son?
The spirit of Barabbas still whispers, “Not this man.”
The Spirit of God still answers with the word spoken from heaven: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.”
The crowd in Jerusalem raised a loud and united cry. God answers with even greater clarity. The question is whether the modern religious heart will continue to prefer the notorious prisoner, or whether it will at last receive the Saviour it has so often set aside.
May God grant the grace to silence the old cry. May He give eyes to see the true Son for who He is. May He break the preference for Barabbas in every heart that still harbors it, and bring many to receive the Lord Jesus Christ—on His terms, and no other.
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