Kingdom Not of This World: Barabbas, Politics, and the Cross

S: John 18:28-40

28 Then the Jewish leaders took Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness they did not enter the palace, because they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. 29 So Pilate came out to them and asked, “What charges are you bringing against this man?”

30 “If he were not a criminal,” they replied, “we would not have handed him over to you.”

31 Pilate said, “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”

“But we have no right to execute anyone,” they objected. 32 This took place to fulfill what Jesus had said about the kind of death he was going to die.

33 Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

34 “Is that your own idea,” Jesus asked, “or did others talk to you about me?”

35 “Am I a Jew?” Pilate replied. “Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”

36 Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

37 “You are a king, then!” said Pilate.

Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

38 “What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him. 39 But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”

40 They shouted back, “No, not him! Give us Barabbas!” Now Barabbas had taken part in an uprising.

O: My wife pointed out to me the irony in the crowd asking for Barabbas’s release—an actual rebel who had participated in an uprising—after earlier saying it would be better for one man (Jesus) to die than for the whole nation to be crushed by the Romans (John 11:50). They justified Jesus’ execution to “save the nation,” yet chose to release someone whose actions risked inviting Roman retaliation.

That’s a sobering insight into how fear, tribalism, and a desire to maintain control can blind people to God’s truth—even religious people. It’s also a warning about how the appearance of spiritual concern (like the leaders avoiding ceremonial defilement in v.28) can mask deep moral and spiritual blindness.

Jesus declared that His kingdom is not of this world. If it were, His followers would fight to defend Him. But His reign is from another place—a kingdom defined not by violence, coercion, or worldly power, but by truth, love, sacrifice, and a cross.

And yet, across the centuries and even today, we still wrestle with the temptation to co-opt Christianity into political movements. This is visible in both the MAGA movement and some anti-Trump Christian activism—where political identity can become so enmeshed with faith that Christians lose sight of Jesus' upside-down kingdom.

I’m personally very much in the anti-Trump camp, but even so, I must remember that many on the other side are my brothers and sisters in Christ. Christians of differing political views are sometimes tempted to think their particular platform is the only faithful witness. But the cross stands as a rebuke to all political idolatry.

The Kingdom of God has always been uncomfortable with human power structures. It refuses to align neatly with either left or right, liberal or conservative. When it tries to, it inevitably becomes distorted.

Jesus’ words—“Everyone on the side of truth listens to me” (v. 37)—cut through the confusion. But it’s important to recognize: truth in this context isn’t merely sincerity or moral clarity. Jesus is the truth (John 14:6), and truth is defined by Him—His teachings, His life, His death, and resurrection. The truth to which we are called includes unpopular moral convictions, countercultural love, and the call to pick up our own cross.

The question we must constantly ask ourselves is: how do we engage in public life without letting our faith become partisan or corrupted by political power?

Throughout history, Christians have courageously entered the public square not to seize control but to prophetically witness to God's truth and justice:

• Telemachus, the monk who gave his life to stop the gladiator games in Rome.

• William Wilberforce and Frederick Douglass, who labored to abolish slavery not because of political fashion but because they believed all people bore the image of God.

• Martin Luther King Jr., who preached justice rooted in the Imago Dei and the prophetic witness of Scripture.

• Pro-life advocates who see every human being—even unborn children—as sacred.

None of these movements avoided politics entirely. But they weren’t driven by party allegiance. They were driven by allegiance to Christ, and a willingness to suffer if necessary for the sake of truth.

Perhaps the difference between faithful public witness and politicized religion is this: Are we willing to speak the truth, even when it costs us influence with our own side? Are we willing to love our enemies and advocate for the vulnerable, even when it's politically inconvenient?

The moment with Barabbas reminds us how easily fear and tribal identity can override justice. Choosing what feels safe or strategic over what is true and right is a temptation for every generation of believers.

A: As a follower of Christ, I need to hold my political views loosely, but my Gospel convictions tightly. I must be willing to critique my own tribe and avoid reducing discipleship to activism or withdrawal. My witness must be shaped by love, even for my political enemies (Matthew 5:44). If my political engagement produces more resentment than compassion, more mockery than mercy, then I need to stop and reassess.

Christianity is deeply public, but it must remain prophetic, not partisan. Jesus' kingdom is not advanced by winning elections, passing laws, or silencing opponents. It is advanced when the Church is salt and light—engaged but distinct, truthful yet merciful, and always willing to lose power rather than betray the cross.

The cross reminds us: Christian witness is costly. It will often mean standing alone, being misunderstood, and loving those who hate us. But it is through this cross-shaped love that God transforms the world.

P: Father, guide me by your Spirit as I live in a world where truth is often politicised or buried under noise. Help me to seek your kingdom first, not the dominance of my political tribe. Give me courage to speak the truth in love, to defend the voiceless, and to love even those who oppose me. Keep me from cynicism. Shape me by the cross. May my words and my life point to Jesus — the way, the truth, and the life. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Note: I used ChatGPT to help improve the text, as well as generate the picture for illustration.