Judas Tries to Explain

This wasn’t the easiest post to write, and what I’ve shared is only meant to bring some light to the story of the ultimate betrayal in human history. —Bryan

My name is Judas Iscariot, and I betrayed my Lord. It really had nothing to do with avarice or greed. The money was fine, don’t get me wrong, but that isn’t why I turned him in to the authorities. I simply did what they couldn’t. I wanted to force Jesus’ hand, so he had to drive the Romans out of our country. I was mistaken, I see that now.

Jesus loved each of us, including me. But I didn’t see it at the time.

When he knelt to wash my feet, I was deeply disturbed. When he stripped down to his underwear, I admit I had some serious doubts. Behaving like a common slave wasn’t really in my thinking. It would take extra work to shape him, and to deaden such strange behavior. But it would be worth it in the end, if only Jesus would cooperate.

In my mind I knew that Jesus only needed the right moment to become the next ruler of Israel. That was his destiny, and I was going to help him bring it to pass. I knew that God had called me–this was my purpose. I would be the kingmaker, and Jesus would certainly reward me.

Some have said that Satan was inside me.

But I hardly noticed. Instead, I was filled with excitement. Finally, the other disciples would come to my side, and together we could make it happen. Enough kneeling, no more groveling–we were going to rule Israel and end the wicked Roman occupation. I truly believed this. He was our Messiah, our deliverer.

The tricky part was to convince Jesus, to manipulate him if necessary, to take control.

He had to see the opportunity that was waiting for him. He was already immensely popular among the people. We could quite easily turn all of this enthusiasm into a full-blown insurrection. But we obviously needed him to lead us, and I could help him find his way. I knew we could do it. This was God’s will for me.

My plan was simple–after I met with the Pharisees, I’d lead them to the garden where Jesus was staying. They insisted on an armed escort, just in case there was trouble among the disciples. I suppose that was prudent, my part in all of this was simply to give Jesus a kiss on the cheek, to signify that he was the one to the soldiers.

I assumed he would resist and fight. I was very wrong.

Nothing went as planned. Jesus didn’t take charge, and he certainly didn’t overthrow the government. As a matter of fact, you could say that the opposite happened; he was silent and refused to answer most of their questions. I did hear him say, “My kingdom is not of this world.” I should have listened.

I realized way too late, that I shed innocent blood. I went back to the priests who hired me, and I insisted they take back the silver. They refused. I threw the bag at their feet and left the temple. Ugly thoughts now filled my mind, and I knew without a doubt that I was completely lost.

A Simple Word to the Backslidden

First of all, I understand more than you realize. Sometimes I’m white-hot, other times I’m not. I can be enthusiastic, and then I’m not quite there. Being a believer who suddenly does not become a believer is to be in a hard place; I often struggle with this. I try to justify things, but inwardly I know, I’m just trying to find a life without Him.

I will not preach to you.

But sometimes I have cursed the day I went forward to the altar. Perhaps it was merely manipulation and my wishful thinking. Maybe I was just looking for something that would give me a meaning. I don’t know for sure. But I do know what it means to be miserable.

At this point I’m looking for something that would help me forget what really happened then. I look around for just about anything that’ll “hide” me from faith. Something that will nullify that deep down I know is true. Hiding is slowly becoming a weird art form. I seem to launch myself into anything that will cover up this pain.

Wearing a mask can be a terribly lost way of living.

But what does God’s word, the Bible say?

First God still loves me. That love cannot be degraded or diminished. It is steady and constant, even when it’s obvious that it’s undeserved or unwelcome. I may try to ignore it but that doesn’t change Him. He is in love with you, and He is trying to woo you into His presence. You’ll never be able to minimize that.

Second, we somehow understand that sin (whatever that means) is very real, even if we try hard to cover it up. When I backslide, much effort must be given to hiding and escaping this awareness. Often, I choose to look to things that might seem relatively good, but if the truth be told it’s nothing more than escaping what is real.

So, what happens next?

Do I swallow my pride and ego, or do I keep building up a resistance to what is true and real? Do I keep faking to avoid His presence, or do I turn again to Him and find His mercy and love still waiting for me? This is your decision, monumental, but very much your next step.

His love for you is deep and solid. Your attempt to escape it doesn’t nullify that. You may pursue anything or everything, trying to “hide” but it really amounts to nothing. You may count on pleasure or happiness from sin, but its continuance never really lasts. You know this, and I know this. And it doesn’t really work, does it?

Coming to Jesus a second time must be your very next step.

You’ll never find any kind of peace until you return to Jesus.

Please, if you wish, contact me at slowe299@yahoo.com. I will try to take up any issue you might have. I’ll also pray and believe that God will bring you home. Please connect with me.

“I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely, For My anger has turned away from him.”

Hosea 14:4

I Could Not Stop Bleeding

“A woman suffering from bleeding for twelve years, who had spent all she had on doctors and yet could not be healed by any, approached from behind and touched the end of his robe. Instantly her bleeding stopped.

Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds are hemming you in and pressing against you.”

Luke 8:43-45

I had to touch Him. I had to reach out and somehow get His attention. It was no longer an option. I bled all the time and it wouldn’t stop. It was constant, and it had been 12 miserable years. There was no one else who could stop this, no doctor, no medicine. I was so desperate. It had to stop, it was killing me.

I had spent so much money on so many doctors.

I had nothing left. Each doctor promised a cure and my hopes were always dashed. A few days ago I heard about Jesus, I heard about His power to raise the dead and heal every disease. I don’t really know why, but I somehow knew He could heal me.

Perhaps this was really it, I thought. There was a big problem though, I was ritually unclean and all that I touched was unclean. The temple was off-limits and I had been cut off from sacrifice and forgiveness. In my darker moments, I remember thinking that perhaps God really had forsaken me?

After all, it had been 12 long years.

What I had to do must be done secretly. I knew I just had to touch this man. I would have to wriggle my way through the crowd to get close enough. This wasn’t right and if I couldn’t get close enough I somehow knew I’d be taken to task for my foolishness.

But oh I was so sick and weak. I was unclean.

Just a touch was all I needed. I knew the He had the power. I just knew it. So I listened and tried to understand His busy itinerary. I must figure out how to get to Him, you see, everything depended on that connection.

It somehow worked. I just managed to grab just the tassel of His ceremonial Pharisee-approve head covering (ironic isn’t it).

And immediately the flow stopped. Just like that! I felt it and knew what happened.

“Christ is the Good Physician. There is no disease He cannot heal; no sin He cannot remove; no trouble He cannot help.”

    James H. Aughey

   

Bryan Lowe

A Used Heroin Needle

Clarion Alley, 1987

I lived in the inner city of San Francisco from 1986-1989. I was a full-time missionary and lived in community called SOS. There were about 10 believers, and we were committed to doing high visibility evangelism, “taking the Church on the street.” We all lived in an old Victorian in the Mission district. 

I will not minimize the difficulty and danger of the streets combined with our ministry’s approach. Not only was it hard, but we also lived in a hard place. Our neighbors were heroin addicts, and we lived just a couple of doors down from the “largest lesbian rock-roll bar west of the Mississippi.”  

Directly behind our house was an alley that was as bad as you can imagine; addicts and winos had basically taken over. It was full of trash, feces, and urine. And in the hot summer it would make your eyes water. It really was awful. 

Please keep reading. 

One hot summer day I decided to clean up part of our alley. Armed with an old broom, laundry detergent, a hose (and courage) I headed out to scrub away. It took some doing; it was somewhat nauseating. 

I noticed a small hole in the corner of the wall. I reached in to discover a well-used heroin needle hidden inside. I ran that needle into my hand. 

I really didn’t think much about it at the time. 

About six months later I was in San Francisco General outpatient for AIDS testing. I had been terribly tired and had lost some weight. Perhaps I had been infected? It was funny but a part of all of this was having to sit in a circle with a dozen gay men being instructed about safe sex practices. (I remember bananas and condoms were used.) 

It was 1987, and AIDS testing was still primitive; it took 6 weeks for the results. 

That wait was a bit of a challenge. I cried out to the Lord many times. Since the symptoms got even worse, I started to think the worse. I was thinking, “was this considered martyrdom?” or “I can’t ask Lynn to marry me now.” (I had been thinking about this up to then.) 

I was positive that I had AIDS. 

About 20 years later I discovered I had contracted HCV, Hepatitis C. I had a good doctor who knew his stuff. Although my liver had been damaged by that point, he guided me through a maze of testing and found a new med that was supposed to have good results. It did, thank God. I had finally been cured. 

Lynnie and I were married on January 7, 1989. 

What can I say really? I know the Lord directly intervened. We returned to Alaska where I was asked to teach at the Alaska Bible Institute. I was able to draw on my many experiences with SOS in San Francisco to touch the hearts of young men and women going into ministry. 

Lynnie and I went on to pastor a Church in 2000. 

Only God can bring good out of something bad. 

“O Lord my God, I cried to You for help, and You have healed me.” 

Psalm 30:2 

 James H. Aughey