So, on Good Friday I posted about being Barabbas. A man who deserves nothing good.
And I’ve been thinking more about it over the last 48 hours. I’ve been thinking about his name. His name means ‘son of the father’. In many ways, it seems like a bit of a non-name. Daddy’s boy isn’t a name, it’s a description. But the Bible is filled with names that have meaning.
And I think about what happened on Good Friday. God’s Son took my place. I know freedom because of what He did. But more than that, God’s true Son died in my place so that I could be adopted. The Son of His Father died so that I could also be son of the Father. God saw through His plan of outrageous love to adopt me. He stood by the promises He had made to redeem. He called back to Himself people who had turned away. I am His.
And so I reach the same conclusion, sort of, as I did on Good Friday.
I am Barabbas.
I am free.
I am son of the Father.