I Am The Man

I am the man; I am Barabbas.
Jesus of Nazareth died in my place.
So that He might redeem us,
He let them strike and spit on His face.

Jesus, the Lord Most High,
He Who knew no sin,
Lovingly in my place chose to die,
So that, as family, He could bring me in.

My Lord and my God it isn’t You,
Who deserved to be nailed to a tree.
You endured the anguish that for my sin is due,
Selflessly to set me free.

Lord, You are spotless, innocent and perfect,
But I rightly have borne sin’s chains.
Yet, unto salvation You’ve made me elect,
And no spot or stain on me remains.

You have devoured my sorrow,
And paid for all my sin and shame.
The tomb You were laid in, You only did borrow;
The victory over death You did claim.

For the world’s sin, on the cross, You died;
My hands should have been pierced; not Yours.
In the blood that flowed from Your side,
We see how, for us, Your love pours.

It should have been me; I am the man.
I am the guilty party.
But the all-creating great I Am,
Was lifted up; exalted in glory.

Beaten and bloodied, He was put in a grave,
But death could not hold Him down.
Jesus rose again mighty to save,
And tossed aside the thorny crown.

Christ is once again enthroned in Heaven,
Wearing His kingly diadem.
Praise Him now; crank the amps to eleven,
For by His death, death He did condemn.

Lord, because You dove into the tomb,
I am now seated in glory.
You defeated the darkness and gloom,
Rewriting my sad, sorry story.

You’re all creation’s past and future King;
The uncreated, unique Son of the Father.
You’ve made us a true Barabbas, so, to You we sing,
“Forever to You be all glory and honor!”.

*Note: “Barabbas” is understood to mean “Son of the Father” in this poem.