01/11/2026
We love talking about Peter. Peter is safe. Peter is relatable. Peter messes up loudly, denies Jesus three times, panic-spirals, ugly cries, gets restored, and then goes on to preach a sermon that launches the early church. Solid redemption arc. Easy to preach. Everyone nods along and feels hopeful.
Judas, on the other hand…we’d really prefer to just not talk about him. Because Judas didn’t trip. He didn’t accidentally say the wrong thing under pressure. He didn’t have a bad day. Judas betrayed Jesus. Intentionally. On purpose. With planning. And that makes him deeply uncomfortable to sit with.
Judas Iscariot wasn’t some random villain who wandered into the story wearing a black cloak and ominous background music. He was one of the Twelve. Handpicked. Lived with Jesus. Walked miles with Him. Ate the same meals. Heard every teaching. Saw every miracle up close. He wasn’t an outsider peering in from the crowd. He was inside the circle.
Which raises the question we usually rush past: why would Jesus choose him if He already knew what Judas would do?
Scripture makes it clear Jesus was not surprised by Judas. He knew who would betray Him. And still, He chose him. Not as a pawn. Not as a mistake. And not because Judas was created to fail. Judas had the same invitation as every other disciple. The same access. The same opportunities. The same Jesus. Foreknowledge is not the same as forcing an outcome. Jesus didn’t choose Judas because betrayal was required. He chose him knowing betrayal was possible. Judas had real agency, real responsibility, and real chances to surrender. Love that is forced isn’t love at all.
Scripture tells us Judas kept the money bag and helped himself to it, which feels like a strange detail until you realize how often betrayal starts small. Rarely does anyone wake up and decide to blow up their life in one dramatic moment. It starts with quiet compromises. With disappointment that isn’t brought to Jesus. With resentment that sits and ferments. Many scholars believe Judas expected a political Messiah. A revolution. A throne. Rome overthrown. Instead, Jesus kept talking about servanthood, sacrifice, and death. Jesus wasn’t doing what Judas thought He should, and that gap between expectation and reality is where the fracture formed.
The timing of the betrayal makes it worse. Judas didn’t act in a moment of chaos or fear. He planned it. He went to the religious leaders and asked what they would give him. Thirty pieces of silver. The price of a slave. Not life-changing money. Barely worth the trouble. Which tells us this wasn’t really about greed. It was about value. That was the moment Judas decided what Jesus was worth to him.
And then there’s the how. A garden. At night. Quiet. Intimate. The betrayal came with a kiss. A sign of affection turned into a signal for arrest. Jesus knew exactly what was happening and still let Judas close enough to touch His face. He called him “friend.” That part should undo us a little.
Afterward, Judas felt real remorse. He wasn’t proud. He wasn’t indifferent. He was devastated. He tried to give the money back. He confessed, “I have sinned.” But instead of running toward Jesus, he ran away from Him. Peter failed and returned. Judas failed and isolated. Same Savior. Same grace available. Very different response.
And here’s the part that hits close to home. Judas didn’t wake up one morning thinking, today feels like a great day to betray the Son of God. He drifted. He held onto disappointment instead of surrendering it. He stayed physically close to Jesus while his heart quietly moved farther away. He followed Jesus as long as Jesus fit his plan.
Judas isn’t just a villain. He’s a warning. A warning about proximity without intimacy. About knowing the language of faith without trusting the heart of God. About being close enough to hear Jesus breathe, yet far enough away to believe your failure is final.
Jesus washed Judas’s feet. Shared bread with him. Loved him all the way to the end. And the real tragedy isn’t that Judas betrayed Jesus. It’s that Judas believed he was beyond redemption.
The lesson for us is uncomfortable but necessary. Faith isn’t about never failing. It’s about where you go after you fail. Disappointment with God will either drive you to surrender or push you toward control. Guilt will either send you running back to Jesus or convince you to hide from the very grace that can heal you.
Grace doesn’t disappear when we mess up. It stands there, knocking, waiting. The question is whether we believe it’s still for us...or whether we walk away like Judas did, convinced our story is already over when Jesus is still calling us “friend.”
