The Servant and Injustice | Mark 15:1-20

Sermon Summary

The Servant Accused

As the sun broke over Jerusalem, the final day of Jesus’ earthly life began. Mark 15 opens with our Lord in the hands of those who had plotted His death for years—the religious elite who had grown increasingly hostile to His ministry. Peter had already denied Him. His disciples had fled. He stood alone, bruised and bound, and now accused. Jesus, the Suffering Servant, was brought before Pilate, the Roman governor, under the false charge of treason. Although the Jewish leaders condemned Him on theological grounds, Pilate needed political justification. So they manipulated the truth—twisting Jesus’ claim to be the Messiah into a threat against Caesar himself.

Pilate’s questioning revealed Jesus’ silence. While falsehoods piled up like waves crashing on a shore, Jesus stood in quiet resolve. He had no need to defend Himself, for He was fully surrendered to the Father’s will. Pilate marveled. Jesus’ stillness in the storm of accusation revealed a strength deeper than words—a divine determination to drink the cup of suffering for our sake. The accusations hurled at Him were the lies of men, but Jesus remained unmoved, knowing His mission was not to escape but to save.

The Servant Abandoned

The accusations didn’t satisfy the crowd or their leaders, so Pilate resorted to a custom—a Passover pardon of a prisoner. Surely, he thought, when given the choice between Jesus and the notorious criminal Barabbas, the people would choose rightly. Barabbas was a murderer, a rebel, a man of violence. Jesus was innocent, gentle, and just. Yet the crowd, stirred up by the chief priests, chose Barabbas. And when Pilate asked what he should do with Jesus, the Son of God, their response echoed like a curse through the centuries: “Crucify Him!”

Why did they choose Barabbas? Because he represented the kind of savior they wanted—one who would fight, conquer, and overthrow their enemies. Jesus, by contrast, was a suffering servant, a Savior who came not with sword but with sacrifice. In choosing Barabbas, they rejected the Prince of Peace for a pretender. Yet in that rejection we see a powerful truth: Barabbas walked free because Jesus took his place. The innocent for the guilty. The sinless for the sinner. Barabbas, though undeserving, became the first recipient of the substitutionary grace of Christ.

In Barabbas, we see ourselves. We are the rebels set free because Jesus was condemned. We are the ones guilty of sin, yet pardoned through the blood of the Lamb. The crowd’s choice that day was not merely a moment of injustice; it was a portrait of the gospel. Jesus was abandoned so we might be accepted.

The Servant Abused

Pilate, unwilling to risk a riot, handed Jesus over to be scourged and crucified. In five brief words—"he had Jesus scourged"—Mark recounts one of the most horrific tortures known to man. The Roman scourging was brutal. Whips embedded with bone and metal tore flesh from bone, often exposing organs and leaving the victim barely alive. It was intended to weaken the condemned before crucifixion, hastening their death.

Jesus endured this with no resistance. The King of glory, who spoke the universe into existence, now suffered in silence beneath the lash of sinful men. He was mocked, beaten, and clothed in a purple robe, with a crown of thorns pressed into His head. The soldiers, drunk on cruelty, bowed before Him in mockery. But the irony was thick—the King they ridiculed was, in fact, their only hope.

He who had never sinned was treated as the vilest of criminals. He bore not only the scorn of men but the wrath of God. Isaiah’s words echo through this moment: “He was wounded for our transgressions… and with His stripes, we are healed.”

This suffering was not senseless—it was substitution. Jesus took what we deserved. The judgment meant for us fell on Him. The abuse He bore was the penalty for our peace. And when they had mocked Him enough, they led Him away to be crucified—fulfilling the very mission for which He had come.

Reflection

Church, this morning’s text calls us to pause and behold our Savior. Mark 15 is a window into the weight of what Jesus endured—not just physically, but emotionally, relationally, and spiritually. He was accused falsely, abandoned by the very ones He came to save, and abused by hands He had formed. Why? Because of love. Because of grace. Because only through His suffering could we be saved.

We do not worship a distant God. We worship a Savior who entered our pain, who took on our sin, and who bore our punishment. We worship the Servant King who suffered not for crimes He committed, but for our rebellion.

And so today, let us not move too quickly from the cross. Let us feel the weight of His wounds. Let us see our own reflection in Barabbas, and in the crowd, and in Pilate. And let us worship the One who stood silent in the face of slander so He might speak our name in redemption.

He was accused, so we could be acquitted. He was abandoned, so we could be adopted. He was abused, so we could be accepted.

Let this remembrance stir our affections. Let it renew our love. And let it remind us again that our hope is not in a God who is immune to suffering—but in a Savior who bore it all for us.

“To Him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by His blood... to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” (Revelation 1:5–6)