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 Jesus knelt to wash my feet, I was profoundly disturbed. And when He stripped down to his underwear, I really began to have 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 true destiny–and I was going to help him bring it to pass.
I knew that God had called me–this was my real purpose. I would do the work of God. 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 get him 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 fairly 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, but 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 wrong.
You see 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.
Please, you must excuse me, but I have a date with a rope.
Broken Believers 