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Pilate's Plight

  • Writer: Michael G. Bryan
    Michael G. Bryan
  • Apr 7
  • 4 min read

Updated: Apr 19

No other devotional has been as difficult to write as this one. Its thirty-year evolution led me to a humbling conclusion: we would have handled Jesus’ trial no differently than Pontius Pilate did. Even in the governor’s seat, the outcome would remain unchanged; Jesus would still die on the cross. 

While Jewish historians like Josephus and Philo portray Pilate as a severe and religiously insensitive administrator, the Gospels reveal a man who began that Friday morning aloof, but by the afternoon was frustrated and desperately out of control of the situation. As governor, Pilate surely knew of Jesus’ rising influence and the miraculous signs reportedly performed throughout Judea. But he proved to be no better prepared to preside over the trial of Jesus than the temple guards had been to arrest Him months prior. Like those guards who returned empty-handed, Pilate would soon discover why they had claimed, “No man ever spoke like this one does.” 


When Pilate asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?”, Jesus momentarily steps out of His role as the defendant to become the seeker of Pilate’s soul. “Is this your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?” Jesus asked. The weight of the question was piercing: was Pilate asking if Jesus was a political threat to Caesar, or was he personally wondering if Jesus was the promised Christ? “Am I a Jew?” Pilate dismissed. “It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?” Jesus’ reply triggered a revelatory shift in Pilate’s perspective—one that would likely haunt him for the rest of his life: “My kingdom is not of this world... but now my kingdom is from another place.” 

“You are a king, then!” Pilate remarked. Jesus answered, “In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Pilate now knew that Jesus was no threat to Caesar’s rule and that the Jewish leaders had brought Jesus to him out of envy, wishing to eliminate a man they feared as a threat to their positions and their nation. Wanting no part in a premeditated murder, Pilate stated, “I find no basis for a charge against Him”—firmly committed to seeing Jesus released. 


Upon learning Jesus was a Galilean, Pilate deferred judgment to Herod. Initially pleased to see a miracle, Herod eventually returned Jesus to Pilate, agreeing He was not guilty of a crime. Offering the release of Jesus or Barabbas, the crowd chose Barabbas. As tension rose, a message from Pilate’s wife warned, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man,” because of a disturbing dream. Reluctantly, Pilate had Jesus flogged and brought out in a purple robe and thorns, hoping the gruesome sight might satisfy the crowd. They continued to insist upon crucifixion. “You take him and crucify him,” Pilate retorted. “As for me, I find no basis for a charge against him.” But the Jews insisted, “He must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God.” 


Hearing this, Pilate was even “more afraid.” He returned to the palace asking, “Where do you come from?”—a question of origin, not geography. Jesus said nothing, and Pilate desperately exclaimed, “Don’t you realize I have the power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore, the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” Jesus’ final word to Pilate was that his involvement was ordained by God—his position was a means to a certain, sovereign end. 


The Jews now had Pilate in political checkmate, warning that Jesus’ release would make him an enemy to Caesar. His position, his life, and his family were now at stake. Pilate went out and washed his hands, claiming, “I am innocent of this innocent man’s blood.” He had a notice placed over Jesus’ head on the cross that read Jesus of Nazareth, The King of The Jews, which he refused to alter for the priests. 

After Jesus’ death, Pilate was likely incensed when the religious leaders requested a guard at the tomb, yet he consented—perhaps curious to see what would happen next. There can be little doubt that Pilate learned of the resurrection; interestingly, there is no mention of the fate of the Roman guards, who typically would have been executed for losing a prisoner. There is good reason to believe that Pontius Pilate and his wife, Claudia, eventually converted to Christianity, as the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church venerates them both as saints. And we must accept the fact that we, in Pilate’s place, could have done no differently. 


"Heavenly Father, as we look back at the trial of Your Son, help us to see beyond the historical figures and into our own hearts. Grant us the humility to recognize that we are not above the pressures and failures of those who stood there that day. Open our eyes to our own need for Your grace as we reflect on the weight of this moment. Amen." 

mgb



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