Based on a sermon by Michael Leader, Beverly Hills Baptist Church, on Mark 15:1-15.

We all want to be the hero in our own story.

That’s human nature, isn’t it? Even when things go wrong, we find reasons. We shift blame. Deep down, we believe we’re fundamentally good people trying our best.

But what if that’s not the whole truth?

When names tell stories

Names matter. They carry weight, history, meaning.

Think about the names we give our children. We choose them carefully, hoping they’ll grow into something worthy of pride. We want them to be the hero of their story, not the villain.

In Mark 15:1-15, three names emerge from the chaos of Jesus’ final hours. Each one reveals something profound about who we are and what Jesus came to do.

The man who wore a freedom hat

Pontius Pilate. His name became synonymous with the death of Jesus.

But here’s what most people don’t know: Pilate’s name literally meant “freedom hat wearer” – a reference to the cap that freed Roman slaves wore. His family name, Pontius, connected him to a legacy of Roman leaders who styled themselves as champions of the common people.

Pilate believed he was the good guy. The people pleaser. The liberator.

That’s why he created an unusual Passover tradition – releasing a prisoner to the crowd. It was his moment to shine, to show he understood the Jewish celebration of freedom from slavery. To prove he was on their side.

But when it mattered most? When an innocent man stood before him and the crowd screamed for blood?

Pilate caved. The supposed liberator condemned the one truly innocent person to death because he wanted to keep his job and stay popular.

Daddy’s boy gone wrong

Barabbas. The name means “son of Dad” – literally, “Daddy’s Boy.”

Someone loved this man enough to give him that name. Someone had hopes for him. Expected him to bring honour to the family.

Instead, he became a terrorist. A murderer. A man awaiting execution for insurrection against Rome.

He was supposed to be the hero. Maybe he even thought he was – a freedom fighter in his own mind. But the reality? He was a calculating killer who brought shame to everyone who loved him.

Barabbas was facing crucifixion. The ultimate disgrace. The end of his story.

Until Jesus showed up.

The name that means “God saves”

Jesus. In Hebrew, Yeshua. The same name as Joshua, the great military leader who brought the Israelites into the Promised Land.

The name means “God saves.”

And that’s exactly what happened on that Friday morning. When the crowd chose Barabbas, when Pilate ordered the flogging, when Jesus was led to the cross – God was saving people.

But not in the way anyone expected.

Jesus didn’t save the good guys. He saved the bad guy. He took Barabbas’s place on the cross. The murderer walked free while the innocent man died.

That’s not justice. That’s grace.

Here’s the thing about us

We’re all Barabbas.

We might not be murderers. We might be decent people who try to do the right thing. But we’re rebels against God, whether we see it or not. We’ve fallen short. We’ve chosen our way over His way.

We’re the bad guys in this story, even if we don’t have a villain’s name.

And yet Jesus saves bad guys. That’s the whole point.

He took our place. He wore our guilt. He died our death. So we could walk free.

What freedom actually looks like

When you ask Jesus to be your Saviour, two extraordinary things happen.

First, you become Barabbas. Not the murderer part – the name part. You become a son or daughter of the Father. God isn’t just a distant deity anymore. He’s your Dad. Your Abba. The perfect Father who always wants what’s best for you.

Second, you become Pilleatus – a freedom hat wearer. You’re set free from sin, from guilt, from shame, from condemnation. You’re no longer a slave to your worst impulses. You get to wear the freedom hat before God.

The master served the servant. God exchanged places with humanity. The innocent took the punishment for the guilty.

That’s what happened at the cross.

The upside-down kingdom

The Romans had a winter festival called Saturnalia where everything flipped upside down for a day. Masters served slaves. Everyone wore freedom hats. They exchanged gifts and celebrated light in the darkest time of year.

When Rome became Christian, they recognised something: their upside-down festival was actually a picture of what Jesus did. So they kept the traditions – the lights, the gifts, the celebration – but gave it a new name.

Christ Mass. Christmas.

Because Jesus turned the world upside down. He gave us the gift of grace. He brought light into our darkest places. He served us when we should have been serving Him.

You’re not the hero

That’s hard to hear, isn’t it?

But here’s the beautiful part: you don’t have to be the hero. Jesus already is.

He’s the true liberator. Not Pilate with his political games and crowd-pleasing tactics. Not Barabbas with his violent rebellion. Jesus – who died for the bad guys so they could be made good, redeemed, set free.

That’s the story. That’s your story.

You’re Barabbas walking away from the cross, stunned that someone else took your place.

You’re Pilleatus, wearing the freedom hat, no longer a slave.

And Jesus? He’s still saving people. Still dying for the bad guys. Still offering grace to anyone who’ll take it.

That’s the hero we need. The God who saves.