There is a passage in the book of Acts that gets me every time.
After Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and subsequent suicide, there was an empty chair that needed to be filled – the twelfth apostle.
In order to be considered qualified for the position, the candidates must have accompanied Jesus throughout the entirety of his ministry, from his baptism to his resurrection. It would have been a man who walked with Jesus and knew him personally. He and Jesus would have been on a first-name basis. They were probably pretty good friends, they likely ate a few meals together and they most certainly would have shared an inside joke or two as the years went by.
This soon-to-be apostle also had a front-row seat to Christ’s death and resurrection. He would have gone through a roller-coaster of emotions; fear at Jesus’ arrest, horror as he watched his torture and death, and the despair of thinking Jesus was dead and gone forever. He would have also known the overwhelming joy of seeing Jesus in the flesh just three days after he was buried.
Two men were chosen as worthy candidates: Barsabbas and Matthias. One man would be chosen as the twelfth apostle.
Anticipation built, excitement was in the air, history was about to be made. A crowd probably gathered as people anxiously awaited the news. The lots were cast and Matthias was chosen to become the twelfth disciple.
We never hear another word about Barsabbas in the New Testament again. Not a word.
In an instant, Barsabbas learns that he has not been chosen. His big moment to be in the inner circle has been lost to another man. The pats on the back and high-fives never come. Everyone looks past him as they rush to congratulate Matthias.
I wonder how he took the news in that moment. Did he shrug it off and esteem Matthias as the newest apostle? I wonder if he was mad at God? Afterall, it was God who passed him by in favor of Matthias. The casting of lots implies a divine choice so it was ultimately God who denied him this position of honor. Ouch.
My heart hurts for Barsabbas. I want to reach back in time and give him a big hug.
Our deepest pain can come from being passed up and passed by. When it feels like no one sees and no one cares. It can leave a wake of insecurity in our hearts and a gnawing feeling that somehow we must not measure up to the rest of the world.
Sometimes we are unchosen and overlooked because we suffer. The world doesn’t always know what to do with our pain. It’s more comfortable to overlook it than acknowledge it, just like the priest and the Levite did in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Most people can’t cross the street soon enough in hopes of avoiding the pain and suffering of others.
The rejection we experience at the hands of this world can make us shrink back into the shadows. We can feel forever unchosen and unseen.
But Jesus sees.
Jesus sees every lonely heart, every set of downcast eyes, every heavy sigh. Jesus sees. And in the midst of our sorrow, he whispers, “I choose you. The world may not, but I do.”
“You did not choose me, but I chose you”
John 15:16
I would love to see the rest of Barsabbas’ story play out in the Bible, wouldn’t you? Did he take a few months to seek God’s will for his life? Did he bounce back immediately, continuing to proclaim the name of Jesus as the Savior of the world? Biblical historians confirm that the latter option is most likely the path Barsabbas took, all the way until his martyrdom.
It may seem like Barsabbas was unchosen, that he got a raw deal. But in fact, the opposite was true. He was chosen by God. He was loved by God. He may not have been the twelfth apostle, but his life had great meaning and significance. His small, hidden story stands as a point of reference for small, hidden people like you and me.
In Christ, we are always chosen.
