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SUBJECT: 24. Chapter 24: Christ - or - Barabbas
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C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R
Christ - or - Barabbas
And they had then a notable prisoner, called Barabbas. Therefore when they were gathered together, Pilate said unto them, Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ? For he knew that for envy they had delivered him.
—Mat_27:16-18.
SIN always betrays its real character after a while. It cannot avoid doing that. Sin is consummate folly. Hence it is that the praise of folly is sounded again and again in the drama of sin.
This holds particularly true of the litigation conducted against God’s own Son by the world. Logic and justice are absent in this litigation. Not only is the process of law an atrocity of injustice on the part of the people, but it is also a piece of folly. Hence what we say now will be less a counterpart than a fulfillment of what was said at the beginning of the preceding chapter. We stated there that Satan knows which particular periods of time are strategic for him, that he makes good use of those periods, and that in all of his sombre activities he knows how to attain to an awful and horrible mode of procedure. And this holds especially true in his sombre work of condemning Jesus Christ.
We persist in saying that this is true. We may not subtract an iota from this truth, for, as has been said already, satanic whims and impulses are constantly forced to fit into the scheme of God’s ordained plan. He who wrecks the palace—that is, he who wants to wreck it—simply is unable to work in disregard of the plans followed by its builders.
Accordingly, if we keep our eyes fixed on the confusion of the litigation of Jesus, if we examine the structure, the scheme of the activity going on in it at the prompting of the invisible world, be it that of divine justice or of devilish injustice, we cannot fail to discover that an awesome logic, a sublime display of inevitable sequence, an integrally interrelated system of death and curse and of basic perdition is delineated in it.
However, heaven and hell, although invisible forces, take their course straight through the visible world. Now that visible world is populated by crooked people, foolish putterers, triflers, and dickerers surging around the chair of God, and the wooden throne on which the prince of darkness is pluming himself. And these people are not capable of an artistically authentic mode of procedure, of an austere and integrally interrelated style of activity. Their sin is incapable of reaching the level of Satan’s artistic form. It represents an uncertain drifting, a failure to keep to the course on the lakes planted between the mountains which limit their horizons and which hide the awful abysses. They are merely dallying on these lakes quite purposelessly. There is no system in their work, and consequently they do not comprehend the satanic scheme and satanic system. Why not, you ask? Because they do not know of God. Did they know God in faith, they would be able to understand a little of Satan’s sublime mode of procedure. For Satan adapts himself to the style and to the system of God to the extent he knows these or to the extent that he can recollect them from his observation. But they do not know God; and Satan himself, of course, does not reveal his thoughts to them. He does not teach his disciples the way he plans to go. Is it not written that he comes as an angel of light? And is his parousia not an ap-ousia, and his manifestation not a concealment of his essential intent? Indeed, no one will ever learn Satan’s ways from Satan. Only in the school of God is that psalm taught which says:
He who bows before His throne,
To him shall all His ways be known.
It is impossible, consequently, for people who are willing tools in Satan’s hand not to know that in their very follies a scheme, a plan, conducted by both hell and heaven, is realizing itself. Hence, too, it is quite possible for them to be inconsistent in their actions. It is possible for them to drift about purposelessly on the deep lakes between the mountain cliffs delimiting their horizons. Purposelessly drifting, yes, until a treacherous squall rushes down from the cliffs and destroys them.
Such was the case of Pilate on this occasion. We have observed that his proposal to chastise Christ first and to set Him free then, caused Christ to become an outlaw. Now if Pilate had drawn this atrocious evil to its logical conclusion, he would never have coupled Christ’s name with that of Barabbas and have submitted both to the people for a selection. Had he followed his intent to its logical conclusion he would have coupled Christ’s name with no other name, and certainly not with that of Barabbas, of whom we have spoken in the preceding chapter.
For it is logical, surely, to say that an outlaw must be an exception in the world. He is one who is cast outside of the province of law, and who consequently becomes the prey of the arbitrary will of one and all. Obviously, if Pilate’s action is to make sense at all, and if it is to become apparent that its sense is clear to the man who performs it, then that man must be willing to pursue his conduct to its logical conclusions. And one of those logical conclusions naturally must be that the man who is named an outlaw—whoever he may be—can in no sense be placed on a par with another person not thrust outside of the province of law. The two simply do not brook comparison.
But Pilate coupled the names. He presents a pair of names and adds the announcement: whom will you have, Barabbas or Jesus who is called Messiah?
Now if this pairing of names had taken place before Christ had been declared an outlaw, it would, from Pilate’s point of view, have been a less serious and offensive piece of conduct than it is now. Barabbas, we must know, had not yet been placed outside of the sphere of law. On the contrary, he had just been treated and punished according to the regulations of law. Now if Jesus had not yet been thrust outside of the rules and the governance of law, this pairing of names, humanly speaking, would have made sense.
But that is not the course Pilate pursues. Barabbas has been treated according to the law. He was a rebel; Peter afterwards calls him a murderer. The law of authority condemns him; the law keeps him prisoner; and when he passes through the gates of the prison to his freedom today, even that will take place in accordance with the law. Think, for instance, of what the preceding chapter stressed in this connection.
But Jesus has become an outlaw; and it is after He has become this, that His name is paired with that of Barabbas. This, surely, is an instance of Pilate’s inconsistency. It sounds the praise of folly. From Pilate’s own point of view the names of two individuals, each of whose case is quite different from that of the other, are named together as though they were of the same rank.
The fact is that we are not afraid to say that even according to human law, and according to Pilate’s own preliminary declaration, the juxtaposing, the coordinating of the names of Barabbas and of the Nazarene represents a humiliation for Barabbas.
Take note of this last-named particular, shocking as it may sound. What we usually say is this: How Jesus is being humiliated by this event! In fact, there are those who would be disposed to congratulate Barabbas upon his promotion supposing that he has been singularly raised from the gutter. There have even been serious commentators who have gone beyond their proper limits in an unworthy play of allegory which ever since ancient times—conceivably for want of ideas—has presented Barabbas as a symbol of the sinner who is granted his freedom by Christ’s mediatorial work. And this allegorical conclusion is thereupon amplified by many an edifying rationale. Often it is presented thus: Jesus is going to His death; Barabbas is recalled to life; and we must all become Barabbases who by reason of Jesus’ entrance into death can ourselves escape from death. Thus we all can be gloriously ushered into life again,—hallelujah, so be it.
Such allegorization, certainly, is incompatible with the Bible. In the first place, Barabbas was not released because Christ served as his Surety. The complete holiness of Christ protested against this emancipation. When Christ presently sees Barabbas entering into his freedom, He does not plead with God for the man, or later give His blood for him. In saying this we are, naturally, speaking of Barabbas as he is revealed to us in history; for the rest the hidden things belong to the Lord. In the second place, we may not transfer that which Pilate approves in opposition to all regulations of law to the conclusion of God’s good pleasure, which is pleased to justify the ungodly for Christ’s sake. Therefore we are justified in saying that from Pilate’s point of view, and even from a general, human point of view, the pairing of the name of Barabbas with that of Jesus constitutes a humiliation for Barabbas. In the estimation of men, Barabbas was not an outlaw, and Christ was. In other words, a person who is unworthy in the sight of human law is placed next to a person who is very worthy; a man having no rights is placed next to a man having rights, and a figure who is no longer taken seriously is placed next to a figure whose case has been and is being given close scrutiny by the law. This most strange and most shocking of all pairings would have lost its humiliating features for Barabbas only if Pilate had first retracted his ungodly proposal to chastise a guiltless Christ first and to “let Him go” then. In other words, Barabbas would not have been disconcerted by this coupling of names if Pilate had rebuilt the litigation from the very bottom, and if in the rebuilding he had followed the established plan of his own human sense of justice. Inasmuch as Pilate did not so rebuild the case, this pairing of names is a shameful humiliation for Barabbas.
We have pointed out earlier in this study (see page 346) that not long ago certain noble leaders of the Jewish people suggested that the litigation against Jesus be re-examined and that, should the investigation warrant it, Jesus be rescued from the odium which his people placed upon Him. Well, in all seriousness we wish to state that if this committee for reconstructing that ancient case of law should want to do its work adequately and well, it would also have to reinvestigate the litigation against Barabbas. For he, too, may lay claim to vindication. The issue in his case is not what God thinks about Jesus. This issue is contained in the question: According to which human ordinances of law is Jesus being released? Now these ordinances of law were so humiliating for Jesus that Barabbas, had he had a fine ethical sense, would have refused to be regarded as belonging to the same class as that to which Jesus belonged.
You ask why we introduce this matter? Naturally we do so in order to point to the state of Christ’s humiliation. It is only when we devote special attention to these plain but frequently neglected matters that we get a true insight into the overwhelming logic of heaven and of hell. Only then do we realize how atrociously and profoundly Christ was humiliated. He who stands before the world as an outlaw now becomes a shame and a byword to all. To this, Isaiah had reference when he said: He is without form and comeliness. This is what Isaiah on another occasion called: being the rejected of men. This is the beginning of the descent into hell. The servant of the Lord was made the least among men, and an example of shame to all. Abel becomes a shame even before Cain. Indeed, this is an oppressive, a sublimely oppressive burden of logical truth.
This is also the great concealment. God passes into hiding: Jesus, as outlaw too, is the Son of God. Our throats become constricted as we think the thought that we might have been Barabbas; that our names might have been paired with that of . . . Jesus; and that we, accordingly, from a purely human point of view and on the basis of human ordinances of law, might then have said: Spare me such humiliation. He who feels no lump in his throat at this does not know himself. The man who reflects upon these matters in the obedience of faith will confess to his God that sin is the greatest nonsense of the world, that it turns the world topsy-turvy, that it turns even me upside down, although — alas — never inside out. Such a person will confess to God: Father, they must prefer me to Jesus: help me, Father, lest I perish because of this honor. Barabbas shares the bread of the Passover with me; he urges me to take it, saying: Take, for this is food for you also. But for me to eat his Passover bread is to invite my death. Give me manna, Lord. He who has seen these things right will beseech his God that he may despise this foolish, this human, this altogether too human pairing of names in its very essence, and that he may see the Christ solely as the One who mocks all comparisons and who can be compared with no one.
Only then will he hear a voice sounding from above: To whom then will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto Him? So say God and Satan. Only after hearing that will we sense that the great concealment of the essence and of the honor of God — a concealment which drew its references from the law of the incarnation of the Word — proves to be just as foolish and offensive and unreasonable to the flesh as does the entire Gospel. A premium was placed upon folly not only when Barabbas left the prison in the evening as a free man, while Jesus was faltering under the weight of the cross, but when the two names, Jesus-or-Barabbas, were placed in juxtaposition. What do you think of such language? Just pass out the ballots. What do you think of such language, free people; what do you think of it, children of Abraham?
We have advisedly put these matters as we did. In our opinion we have placed the emphasis upon the right thing. Naturally, we do not mean to say that the further particulars have no significance. But these additional details can be given their proper place only if the other matters have been properly assigned to their places first. Bearing that in mind, we can say that the additional particulars which demand attention are numerous.
In the first place the figure of Pilate attracts attention. This man by pursuing his characteristically wavering policies of state, by choosing the way of escape which we have just seen him enter, attempted a last time to rid himself of Jesus, but in the very moment of his doing it he became completely captive to the might of the Jews. From this time on it will be impossible for him to recede.
In the second place, the person of Barabbas is a mysterious figure. All that we know of him is that he had committed a murder, and that he had done this on the occasion of a revolution in the city. Some think it may be safely supposed that Barabbas played no role in the periodically recurring displays of animosity on the part of the Jews against the Roman people. These argue that it would certainly have been difficult for Pilate to present as a candidate for freedom a man who had openly taken part in a revolution against Rome.
However, we want to say that this contention is not a properly argued one. In the first place Pilate was not one who was strictly dutiful in acquitting himself of his responsibility. In the second place, Jesus Himself was one who was being accused of fostering rebellion against the state. That tells us enough. The pairing of Jesus (after this accusation) with Barabbas makes it very likely that Barabbas had also been sentenced by the Roman authority for being a rebel. Now the situation is that Pilate wants to do everything in his power to remain friendly with the Jews. You see the connection. Placing Jesus’ name next to that of Barabbas would prove a better instance of catering to the popular wishes, and to the roaring lion of Jewish chauvinism, would serve, indeed, as a stop-gap for the time being, if Barabbas too had been involved in an anti-Roman movement just as it was said Jesus had been.
However, we have no absolute certainty about this. Nor need we have. For Barabbas became a kind of popular hero the moment he was incarcerated. The reputations of heroes are as cheap as popularity is, and as far as Barabbas was concerned, a revolution of any kind, irrespective of how it arose, would always be a revolution against Roman authority. Those nameless ones who were involved in such revolutions would always to a certain extent have an opportunity to cool their hatred against the despicable empire of Rome by pondering this incident of Barabbas. Add to this the fact that in any case everyone hated the Roman and that any imprisonment of a son of Abraham at the hands of Rome caused the children of Abraham to feel their subservience very keenly. In connection with this think of the Passover custom which will presently give the man who is to be released from prison an ovation in the form of the sacrifices of Israel’s self worship. You can easily understand that Barabbas, irrespective of his antecedents, and irrespective of who he may be as a person, does certainly in this moment elicit the sympathy of the people as a symbol by virtue of his candidacy for deliverance.
To this we must add another thought. His name is: Bar-abbas.. Literally this means: son of his father. It is almost self-evident that this was not a common family name inasmuch as every human being is a son of his father. There is reason for supposing, as some have maintained, that the “abbas” alluded to was a rabbi. In that case Barabbas was one who sprang from a family of rabbis. Now a rabbi, a teacher of the people, was officially addressed by the name, father. If this supposition represents the truth Barabbas was a man of noble descent. In that case, too, his being taken captive affected a prominent rabbinical family. His case, then, was not merely a penalty applied to this or that street rebel. His was an action against Rome in which rabbinical pride, Jewish theology, and ancestral tradition might be found. In this connection we think of judas Iscariot who had also given his heart and hand to the rabbis and who for that reason could no longer endure Jesus.[1] Even if Barabbas had been taken captive for a reason which had no conceivable connection with Jewish patriotism, he would have become a hero on this day the moment he was named for the amnesty. We read that he was “notable.” We need not doubt for a moment that he became a popular hero. All we have to do is to follow the crooked line of the popular rationale and the whimsical ways of the popular favor to be convinced of this, even though not as much as a single particular about Barabbas’ criminal past is historically verifiable.
[1] See Christ in His Suffering, Chapter 9, p. 168.
For all of these reasons, then, we are quite right in saying that the pairing of names in question here represents an antithesis of the false freedom which Israel sought to the true freedom which Christ promised. Can you suppose that Judas is the only one who betrayed Jesus, and that the thirty pieces of silver changed hands between him and the chief priests only? That cannot be. Such would have been a humiliation too meager for Christ the outlaw. When Judas betrayed him, we notice that one of His twelve left Him.[2] Now one of twelve can hardly be said to amount to much. But on this day Christ experiences something which, numerically considered, is far worse. We all will betray Him. The protest which Judas filed against Jesus takes tangible form in this pairing of names. On this day the name of Barabbas becomes a motto, a party slogan. To the heated phantasy of the people he becomes the bearer of the typical and genuinely Jewish ideal. Hence he immediately wins from Jesus of Nazareth in the ensuing election. Barabbas fights for a freedom which is immediate. Jesus of Nazareth, . . . ah, He is the pioneer of a freedom which is ever looking to the future, to the morrow. As for that morrow, . . . well, it never comes. Barabbas represents the emancipation of Israel from the bonds of Rome, and that is a far more practical thing than the work of Jesus who is always talking about emancipation from the slavery of sin. Barabbas, even though he himself may be unaware of it, is being appropriated by the Jews’ illusion of freedom and he allows himself to be appropriated in this fashion, especially perhaps because he is still safely seated behind the gate of the prison. There Barabbas is pliable as is every bearer of an ideal — every bearer, that is, who has no mouth with which to affirm or to protest. But Jesus was ever antagonizing people. Nothing pleased Him. At one time He deliberately refused to accept the king’s crown. Barabbas represents revolution; Jesus, the Gospel. Barabbas is carnal; Jesus spiritual. Barabbas belongs to the line of Lamech-Cain; Jesus to that of Seth-Abel. Barabbas wants to subjugate; Jesus to deserve. Barabbas will not let his sword rest unburnished; but Jesus has no work for a sword to do. Barabbas is a hero; Jesus a worm on which we must necessarily walk, though we tread ever so lightly. Of Jesus we feel like saying: Ecce homo. Not so of Barabbas.
[2] See Christ in His Suffering, Chapter 23, p. 407 f.
Perhaps there is another particular which deserves attention here. There are many manuscripts, by no means unfaithful witnesses, which give Barabbas the name Jesus. We shall devote no attention to that question in textual criticism which busies itself with which of these manuscripts deserves preference, that which includes or those which exclude the name of Jesus. Suffice it to say that there is much to be said in favor of the opinion that Barabbas was also called Jesus, or Joshua.
If this interpretation is a correct one, we have here two Joshuas, two people who go by the name of Jesus. Their names are placed on a single ballot: Joshua-Barabbas and Joshua of Nazareth. And was this juxtaposing of names not a revelation of God rather than an accident of chance?
The people who are called Jesus: in that statement is contained the whole problem of the incarnation of the Word. What we have in mind is this. The incarnation of the Word represents a concealment of God, and of God’s majesty. It represents a hiding behind the meager humanity of Christ. In the incarnation the Logos is lost to view behind the veil of a humiliating human nature. Now this incarnation of the Word followed its divine style to its logical conclusion, even to the point of the name which Christ accepted. For His name is called Jesus, or Joshua. And the remarkable thing about the name Joshua, Jesus, is that it is in no sense unusual. In those days there were thousands who bore the same name. There still are. Many a Joshua, many a Jesus, can be found in the markets of any great city, and among the hucksters and cattle buyers of many a smudgy village. You see that it is a very common name.
Now it is a very ordinary name which suits the incarnate Word. If it had been necessary for Jesus to take a name (supposing this could be done) which would give perfect and adequate expression to His essence and being, God would not have made the selection from a human register. For Jesus is unique. Accordingly, a name which would have given complete expression to His being or which would have approximated such adequacy of expression most nearly, would have been understood by no one and would have left us God’s incarnate Son without a means by which we could appropriate Him. Therefore the incarnate Word had to bear a name which fitted His mission and His purpose. It had to be a name which the people could sense, a name in which revelation appeared demonstrably. The name of Jesus Christ simply had to be an ordinary, oft-recurring name. Christ, too, is like us in all things, sin excepted. Hence He does not come to us bearing a more than aristocratic name which no one beside Him could ever have in the world. Instead He is presented to us with the name which a man of the street might also bear. This is part and parcel of His humiliation, of His commonness. In this respect, too, God’s thoughts differ from those of men. Jewish writers had a way of creating dazzlingly unique names[1] for the Messiah, but God gave Him the common name of Joshua, a name as usual as John or Peter is in our own language. But the choice of this name had its bearing upon salvation and judgment. We know that the name Joshua means: the Lord saves. The rich significance of this name might escape the attention of the countless Joshuas who were making the markets unsafe places to be, but in Jesus of Nazareth the name was fulfilled perfectly. Evaluate Him in terms of His name and you will discover that it fits Him appropriately, that it fits Him only, and that it fits Him completely. Thus it was that the name which Jesus bore was itself a means of revelation. True, this revelation, too, was not adequate, but it was genuine. Whoever believed and whoever struggled with the name of Joshua would eventually discover in Jesus of Nazareth the fulfillment of the truth revealed by that name (the truth that Jaweh saves). And this is a fulfillment which can be discovered in no one else; and he who does not believe is one who “hearing doth not hear.”
[1] A few of these Jewish fictions created the following names for the Messiah: Sjalom (peace); Risjon (the first); Jinnon (because he exists from eternity or because he has the dead arise again); Chanina (“grace”); Menachem ben Chisqijja (comforter, son of Hezekiah); Chiwwara debe Rabbi (the white one, i.e., the leprous one, of the house of the Rabbi—see Isa_53:4); Jahweh; Tsemach (sprout or shoot); Natrona or Netirutha (the watcher or the watching one); Menachem (comforter); Bar-Naphle (son of a degenerate one—see Amo_9:11); Nehora (light): Anani (he who comes with the cloud); Ephraim (perhaps to be explained by reference to Jer_31:9; Jer_31:20); Menachem ben Ammiel (comforter, son of Ammiel). Inasmuch as these names which the Jews ascribed to the Messiah are not names currently known and used at the time, they are characteristic to the extent that they differ from the Biblical revelation of the matter, according to which Jesus had a common name which was quite in accordance with His humiliation and its effects. For a discussion of these names themselves, see Strack-Billerbeck Kommentaar op Mattheus, pp. 64-67.
To return now to Pilate’s ballot of two names. If it is true that Barabbas also bore the name Joshua, the naming of him as well as the naming of the Son of Mary and of David takes on a particular significance which is not discovered until this moment in the presence of Pilate. The one name of Joshua is now developed into two different directions through these two “candidates.” Jesus of Nazareth redeems from sin, does the redeeming by means of justice, and by earning that justice in a strenuous struggle with God; and Jesus-Barabbas redeems from worldly tyranny, does the redeeming by means of imposed force (rebellion), and without once thinking about earning redemption in a struggle with God or of the requisite of satisfying God. Jesus of Nazareth first effects a spiritual redemption, and only after that has taken place does His renewing power realize itself in the visible world; but the “redemption” of Barabbas is a purely pragmatic incident which takes place according to the law of the flesh.
This pairing of the two names represents the great concealment of the Word of God: One can distinguish the true from the false Jesus only by faith and according to the Word. Joshua-Barabbas and Joshua of Nazareth are listed together. These names constitute a ballot in which self-redemption by means of one’s own power and redemption through grace are placed next to each other. Salvation without humiliation and salvation by way of humiliation are placed in juxtaposition. Barabbas sacrifices others; the Nazarene sacrifices Himself. The one acts in the visible world; the other in the invisible. The first stands for revolution; the second for satisfaction. The former pleases the heart; the latter offends it. All this the heart of Pilate and of whatever is human puts together upon a single ballot.
You ask whom they will choose after a while? Ah, man, that makes no difference: His own did not accept Him; even though they vote for Him, even though each and all choose in His favor, they will have denied Him already. The fault inheres in the ballot itself.
Do not burst into tears, then, when after a while the popular vote proves to go against Him. For the ballot itself is a cursing of the Messiah. Instead, greet and worship the Surety of your soul for the labor which He bore for you. He was dumb in His response to this pairing of names, His silence represents a singular greatness. For that screaming mob out of doors the name Joshua-Jesus may have lost every feature of its specific content. But Jesus of Nazareth has detected the voice of His God behind His name. The several letters of His name, even as He read them upon the ballot, bore down upon Him with the weight of eternity. He pondered the content of His name in the presence of Barabbas and of His heavenly Father. That caricature — Barabbas — did not cause Him to lose hold of Himself.
Seeing the ballot, Joshua of Nazareth thought to Himself: They must do what they will; my calling is to be Joshua: let them draw up their lists.
They drew them up.
When Jesus saw that the logic of sin had put itself in the service of the choice of the flesh against the spirit, he understood all. At the beginning the case had read: Jesus superior to Barabbas; I find no fault in Him. At the conclusion the situation declared: Jesus beside Barabbas; the two are a pair. And the result of that was: Jesus beneath Barabbas; crucify Him and give us Barabbas. Yes, He had understood it all, and He did not move from His place. He found that His task was as simple as His name, used as it was a thousand times, for He had previously sensed that His name was as hard to bear as was His task in this terrible hour.
Jesus’ name was coupled with that of Barabbas.
Who does not shudder at the thought that he is no better than Barabbas, and that therefore the whole world as well as his own flesh would vote against Jesus and in favor of himself? Who does not shudder at the thought that he, just as Barabbas, is named on the ballot of “the flesh” next to God Himself? Whoever ponders this deeply will pray: Lord help me, for I shall go mad unless Thou dost reveal to me the true sense of the first chapter of John, unless Thou dost teach me the real meaning of the statement: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.
Pilate’s ballot: Moriae encomium, the praise of folly.
But: the flight from that ballot; refuge in Jesus’ arms, the praise of godliness.
Come, ye angels, raise a hymn of praise for Him. It may be that He will not hear it today, but sing it anyhow to yourselves: to whom then shall ye liken Him, or what likeness will ye compare unto Him? saith the Almighty.
Angels, keep your countenance firm over against Him. For God is about to forsake Him. God has already left Him. God left Him when that evil ballot was drawn up. The clouds were not rent, heaven did not break through, the sun was not darkened. But God forsook Him. Jesus, my Surety, why didst Thou endure the ordinary name which is borne by the Jew at the market and by me? Lord, help me, for I am sure that I, too, would not have voted for Thee.
Be quiet, He tells me in return. That is just the point. You must not “select” me. I and the Father must have selected your name at the time of election, by sovereign choice and unto salvation. A ballot consisting of two names, He tells me further, once existed in the presence of God. The one name included upon it was the old man of sin, the son of perdition, existing in reality. The other name was that of the new man of election, genuine and pure in principle, in idea. The Father and the Son chose the second and greatly desired him; they were governed by their good pleasure in the choosing . . . That is why I can live; that is why I shall not perish. That is why I pass out of the prison house of sin and of Satan by means of Him, by means of Him alone, for the sake of God’s sovereign pleasure. Barabbas passes out of the prison, but he leaves the prison standing. Jesus, however, enters into hell but for Him the very prison becomes His loot. O Lord, Thou seest
Thy struggle crowned with gifts for the comfort of men in order that Thy obstinate dear ones might ever dwell with Thee.
He endured the choice of the earth in order to vindicate the choice of God’s good pleasure in His death, in His concealment, in His perfect perdition. That is what I read in the Holy Gospel. What must I do?
“What must I do, Lord; tell me, what?”
* * *
“Give me my cross, Thy cross, Thy heart,
Thy love, Thy sorrow, and then go
The way of grief to Golgotha.”[1]
[1] John H. De Groot, Sprongen.