Did you know that the Valley of the Fallen, just outside Madrid, Spain, is home to the tallest cross in the world? The impressive structure stands a remarkable 492 feet tall and can exceed winds in excess of 100 miles per hour. The cross of Jesus, though, stands even higher, rising above the vain ambitions, petty concerns, and despicable sins of our material world. Rising above the politically correct winds of naturalism, humanism, and secularism, our Savior’s cross has yet to break under the misguided whims and carnal agendas of modernity.
One of the blessings surrounding this time of year is the opportunity to revisit the familiar stories of our faith in order to celebrate their significance anew. I find in my own life, no matter how many times I read the Easter narrative, some detail always resonates with me in a fresh, meaningful way. Focusing on the unique perspective of each biblical author unveils the divine agenda behind each of the New Testament’s four gospels.
This year, Mark’s recollection of Jesus’ final week has been particularly inspiring. In his effort to portray Jesus as the unexpected king, Mark repeatedly emphasizes the substitutionary nature of our Savior’s sacrificial work. By highlighting how alone Jesus was on the cross, we get a glimpse of the magnitude and meaning of His redemptive work.
For instance, substitute followers surrounded our Lord because His disciples all fled for their lives when Jesus needed them most (Mark 14:50). Despite His previous command to take up their crosses and follow Him (Mark 8:34), the presence of Simon of Cyrene carrying the cross of our Savior is dreadful reminder that our Savior was forsaken (Mark 15:21). Likewise, after their desperation for places of honor on Jesus’ right and left hand (Mark 10:35-40), two thieves on crosses of their own replace James and John as partakers of Christ’s bitter cup (Mark 15:27) .
The greater act of substitution, though, is found in the reality that Jesus took our place on the cross by becoming sin for us (2 Cor. 5:21). Often referred to as substitutionary atonement, Mark recalls two incidents which reinforce the concept that Jesus became our scapegoat.
First, we see the glory of substitution in Pilate’s offer to set one prisoner free, resulting in the choice between Jesus and Barabbas (Mark 15:7-15). The name Barabbas means “son of a rabbi” or “son of the father.” Hidden in the oldest manuscripts of Matthew 27:16 is the revelation that this man’s first name was Jesus. In other words, his full name was Jesus Barabbas.
Thus, when standing before the crowd, Pilate was essentially asking them, “Which Jesus will you choose?” One was a known terrorist; the other was the King of a heavenly kingdom. One was a man without God; the other was God in human flesh. One was a taker of human life; the other was a giver of human life. When the crowd chooses Barabbas, a dramatic portrayal of substitution emerges.
The imprisoned one who was guilty is set free in order that he might live, while the free One who was innocent is imprisoned in order to die. Or, if you prefer, the One who was guilty of no sin took the place of the one who was guilty of great sin.
Sound familiar?
Simply put, Barabbas is a profound picture of you and me. By shedding His blood on the cross, Jesus absorbed the punishment we deserved. The theme of redemptive substitution runs throughout Scripture. “All of us like sheep have gone astray,” wrote the prophet Isaiah, “Each of us has turned to his own way; But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all To fall on Him (Isa. 53:6).” Similarly, the Apostle Peter later wrote, “For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God . . . (1 Pet. 3:18).”
Second, Mark’s emphasis on the miracle of darkness from high noon until 3 p.m. also points to Jesus as our substitute (Mark 15:33). Just as the plague of darkness covered the land of Egypt when the first Passover lamb was sacrificed, now darkness again hovered over the earth as God’s final Passover Lamb bled and died. First century Jews rightly understood darkness as a sign of God’s judgment.
The prophet Amos predicted the moment as sign of Yahweh’s anger with His people (Amos 8:9). As the cursed One hung upon a tree, God the Father poured out His full wrath on His Son, consuming Him as a burnt offering for sin (Isa. 53:4-10). Wave upon wave of our sin fell upon the sacrificial Lamb who faced the judgment of God so that we would not need to. Though the brightness of angels lit up a dark sky at His birth, the darkness of God’s holy indignation dimmed the noon sun at Jesus’ death.
The whole scene reveals not only the ugliness of sin, but also the beauty of God’s mercy and grace. While conversations of sin sometimes grate on contemporary ears as old-fashioned and out of touch, we cannot understand the cross of our Savior without grasping why it was necessary in the first place. I am so grateful that God sent His only begotten Son to be our substitute.
Adam B. Dooley
April 18, 2025
