I Am Terrified by Judas Iscariot
What if someone can live in Jesus’ inner circle and still never truly belong to Him?
Growing up in a Christian home, I read the Bible constantly. Whenever something I read in it confused me, I’d ask my dad for answers.
Dad has a master’s degree in theology, knows biblical Greek, and has spent his life studying Scripture. (Many people today know him as Pastor Ron, though he wasn’t a pastor when I was growing up.)
I’m an intensely curious person, but Dad always had a ready answer sufficient to satisfy my curiosity or clear up my confusion.
It was amazing: any time I asked him about anything in the Bible, it was clear that I was asking him something he’d already considered. Nothing I ever brought to him was new or gave him serious pause.
Until one day.
One random afternoon, I was pondering life and death, and the thereafter, and I calmly asked him something that stumped him.
“Hey Dad… is Judas in heaven, or hell?”
“Hmmm…” I remember Dad saying, nodding slowly.
I kept going.
“If he is in hell, is that because he killed himself? Is suicide an unforgivable sin?”
Dad paused. Tightened his lips. Looked down at the floor.
Finally, he said, “You know? That’s a really good question. I’m not sure. I’m going to have to think about that for a while.”
He grabbed a broom, then walked outside.
This was very curious to me.
Through the front window, I watched him in the summer heat as he shirtlessly swept the front patio, brushed cobwebs off the side of the house, cleaned the windows, then wiped down the swag lamp in front of the door.
He stayed outside for a really long time.
I wondered what thoughts were going through his head.
Did he not know? Was he not sure? Had he never considered this before?
I was surprised by his reaction. This was the first (and only) time I remember wondering if I’d asked him something he hadn’t thought of before.
Eventually, he came back inside. Sitting at the table, cooling off, and drinking ice water, he soberly gave me an answer to this imponderable mystery.
“I think Judas is in hell. But not because he killed himself. Because he was never really saved in the first place.”
That was a sufficient answer, but not at all what I was expecting.
I have never forgotten this conversation. In the decades since, I have puzzled over this riddle endlessly.
His response was not comforting, and in a way, it only deepened the mystery, creating even more questions than it answered.
If Judas Iscariot walked with Jesus for at least three years, like the other disciples—eating with Him, traveling with Him, carrying the moneybag, watching the miracles, and hearing all the teachings of his Rabbi, yet he was not a true believer… what does that mean for the rest of us?
How can someone get that close to Jesus and still betray Him?
At what point did his heart turn away from Him?
Was his heart ever in tune with Him?
If not, how did nobody else know?
Also, what do we make of the fact that Judas was sorry for betraying Jesus afterward?
He felt deep anguish. He tried to return the money. He showed clear signs of regret and an extreme attempt to undo the wrong he had committed.
Was Judas beyond saving?
Could I be like Judas, and not even know it?
Those questions have never left me.
Recently, I wrestled with them again by talking them through with Grok (the AI chatbot from xAI).
What initially started out as a simple question about the value of thirty pieces of silver turned into a much deeper exploration.
(Note: I’m not treating Grok as a theological authority, but a simple (and powerful) tool for surfacing difficult questions worth wrestling with.)
Today, I’ve decided to share parts of my conversation here. It gave me some clarity, but again, not necessarily comfort.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you could ever turn away from Jesus, or even if you aren’t a Christian and don’t believe, come ponder this with me.
Is there a Judas in all of us that could betray our greatest friend if the price is right?
Are we beyond saving?
Begin
Q1: I’ve been wondering about the whole “thirty pieces of silver” thing in the Bible, where Judas betrays Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. That number doesn’t mean anything to me in 2026. What is the value of thirty pieces of silver in today’s money?
Thirty pieces of silver — the price Judas received for betraying Jesus — sounds dramatic in the Bible, but what does it actually equal in 2026 dollars?
The coins were most likely Tyrian shekels, the high-purity silver currency used for temple taxes in first-century Judea. Each shekel weighed roughly 14 grams with about 94% silver purity.
That gives us:
30 shekels × 14 grams = 420 grams total silver weight
At ~94% purity: roughly 395 grams of pure silver
As of mid-April 2026, silver is trading around $79–$80 per troy ounce.
Converting:
395 grams ≈ 12.7 troy ounces
At roughly $80 per ounce, the raw melt value comes to about $1,000.
So in today’s terms, Judas sold out Jesus for roughly $950–$1,000 in raw silver value — essentially pocket change for the ultimate betrayal.
That low number is part of the shock. In the ancient world, 30 shekels was also the exact legal price to compensate for the death of a slave (Exodus 21:32). Judas didn’t get rich. He valued the Son of God at the price of a dead slave.
Q2: Wait, that’s all? Isn’t that a shockingly low amount to accept for betraying a friend—unto death?!
Yes — thirty pieces of silver was shockingly, even insultingly low. And that’s exactly the point the Gospel writers wanted to drive home.
In the ancient world, 30 shekels was the legal compensation price for the death of a slave (Exodus 21:32). By accepting it, Judas wasn’t just betraying Jesus for money — he was valuing the Son of God at the price of a dead slave.
It wasn’t even a big payday for the risk involved. Thirty shekels was likely equivalent to somewhere between several months and a year of wages for a common laborer. But for betraying someone you’d lived with for three years, risking execution, and destroying your own reputation forever? It was a pittance.
The Gospels make this clear in Judas’ immediate regret. After Jesus was condemned, he tried to return the money, saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood” (Matthew 27:4). When the priests refused it, he threw the coins into the temple and hanged himself.
If the amount had been life-changing wealth, he probably wouldn’t have tried to give it back almost immediately. The low price amplifies the horror: Judas didn’t sell Jesus for a fortune. He sold Him for almost nothing.
In modern terms, it’s like betraying your closest friend to be executed for about $1,000 in loose change — then immediately trying to give the money back in tears.
The number isn’t just an economic detail. It’s a moral indictment.
Q3: Is there any indication anywhere in the Bible (or in Christian tradition) that Judas’ regret proves that he was a real follower of Jesus? Or was he always unsaved and serving the devil the whole time?
The Bible and historic Christian tradition are remarkably consistent on this: Judas’ regret does not prove he was a genuine, saved follower. Instead, the Gospels present him as a sobering warning — someone who was chosen, close to Jesus, and empowered, yet never truly belonged.
Jesus himself said it plainly in John 6:70: “Did I not choose you, the twelve? And yet one of you is a devil.” In John 17:12, Jesus prays, “None of them has been lost except the son of destruction,” singling Judas out as the only one already lost from the group.
When Judas felt remorse after the betrayal, Matthew 27:3 uses the word metamelomai — meaning “to change one’s mind” or feel regret — not the usual word for saving repentance (metanoia). He tried to return the money and then hanged himself in despair. The apostle Paul later distinguishes this as “worldly sorrow” that leads to death, versus “godly sorrow” that leads to repentance and life (2 Corinthians 7:10).
The other apostles never treat Judas as a backslidden believer who almost made it. Peter calls him someone who “turned aside to go to his own place” (Acts 1:25). Early church fathers like Augustine and Chrysostom echoed this view: Judas’ remorse was real but not redemptive.
In short, Judas was never described as a true, regenerate follower who fell away. He walked with Jesus, performed miracles with the others, and carried the moneybag — yet his heart belonged elsewhere. Satan entered him at the critical moment (Luke 22:3, John 13:27), and Jesus called him “a devil” while he was still among the Twelve.
Judas stands as the starkest biblical warning: you can be in the inner circle, see the miracles, and still be lost if your heart never truly belongs to Christ.
Q4: But betraying Jesus wasn’t an unforgivable sin, was it? Could he have gone to Jesus and visited him in jail and asked for forgiveness? Would he have been forgiven then?
Yes — betraying Jesus was not the unforgivable sin. In principle, Judas could have gone to Jesus (while He was being held by the high priest or Pilate) and asked for forgiveness — and Jesus would have forgiven him.
Jesus repeatedly showed that active betrayers and deniers could still be forgiven if they turned to Him:
Peter denied Jesus three times the same night — yet Jesus personally restored him after the resurrection (John 21).
The crowd that shouted “Crucify Him!” was included in Jesus’ prayer from the cross: “Father, forgive them” (Luke 23:34).
The thief on the cross repented while dying beside Jesus and heard, “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43).
Even during the betrayal itself, Jesus never slammed the door on Judas. In the upper room, He said, “What you are going to do, do quickly” (John 13:27) — a final warning, not a final rejection. On the cross, His prayer for forgiveness covered those who enabled the arrest, including Judas.
Judas’ tragedy is not that forgiveness was unavailable. It’s that he never asked the One who could give it. Instead of running to Jesus, he went back to the chief priests, tried to undo the transaction by returning the money, and then despaired and hanged himself (Matthew 27:3–5). His sorrow was real, but it was worldly sorrow that led to death, not godly repentance that leads to life.
Had Judas pushed through the courtyard, fallen at Jesus’ feet, and said, “Lord, I have betrayed innocent blood — forgive me,” Jesus would have responded with the same mercy He showed Peter and the thief.
The door stayed open until Judas himself closed it.
Q5: Who was Judas Iscariot, the man? He’s spoken of so little in the Bible and in Christian life that it seems the only thing we know about him today is that he was a betrayer. Where did he come from? What was his background?
We actually know more about Judas the man than many people realize — though the Gospels give us only a few clear details.
Judas was the only non-Galilean among the Twelve apostles. His full name was Judas Iscariot, which most scholars believe means “Judas, man from Kerioth” (or Ish-Kerioth in Hebrew). Kerioth was a town in southern Judea, far from the Galilean villages where Peter, James, John, and the others grew up.
This made Judas something of an outsider in the group. He came from a different region and likely had a different accent and cultural background. Because he was trusted enough to carry the group’s moneybag (John 12:6; 13:29), he must have been seen as responsible and capable with finances.
Beyond that, the Bible tells us very little about his family, occupation, or early life. We don’t hear stories about his calling like we do with Peter the fisherman or Matthew the tax collector. He simply appears as one of the Twelve.
The name “Iscariot” may also carry a second meaning. Some scholars connect it to the word sicarius, meaning “dagger-man” — a term for the Zealots, the radical Jewish revolutionaries who wanted to overthrow Roman rule by violence. If that connection is correct, Judas likely came with strong political and nationalistic hopes.
In short: Judas was a Judean from Kerioth, the group’s treasurer, and probably carried deep expectations that Jesus would be a political Messiah who would liberate Israel from Rome. Those hopes, combined with his outsider status, set the stage for the tragedy that unfolded.
He wasn’t just “the betrayer.” He was a real man with a background, ambitions, and disillusionment that ultimately led him to the worst decision in history.
Q6: All of this seems so tragic and pointless. All we really know about Judas is that he consciously took action and then got exactly what he wanted. But then he acted like it was a terrible mistake. What was he really after? Money? Power? Fame?
The Bible doesn’t give Judas one simple motive — and that’s intentional. His actions reveal a mix of desires, but money was never the main driver.
Judas was likely a Zealot sympathizer who wanted political power. He expected Jesus to be the conquering Messiah who would overthrow Rome and set up an earthly kingdom. As treasurer of the group, he saw himself rising to a position of influence once Jesus took the throne.
When Jesus repeatedly spoke of suffering and dying instead of fighting, Judas grew disillusioned. The betrayal wasn’t primarily about greed — it was an attempt to force Jesus’ hand. By handing Him over to the authorities, Judas may have hoped the crisis would spark the uprising he craved.
The thirty pieces of silver were offered by the priests; Judas took them as a consolation prize when his bigger plan collapsed. The moment Jesus was condemned, Judas tried to return the money in regret (Matthew 27:3–5). If money had been the goal, he would have kept it.
Fame was never part of it — he became infamous instead.
In the end, Satan exploited Judas’ disappointed ambition. Luke 22:3 and John 13:27 both say Satan entered him at the decisive moment. Judas didn’t sell Jesus for wealth. He sold Him because the revolution he dreamed of never came — and when Jesus refused to play the role Judas wanted, everything fell apart.
What Judas really wanted was power through a political kingdom. When that dream died, so did he.
Q7: But where did he get the idea that Jesus would be a temporal ruler? Jesus was constantly saying, “My kingdom is not of this world, “I do the will of Him who sent me,” “I will die soon,” and things like that. He never once said, “I will rid you of the Romans.”
It’s a fair question — and the answer lies in the gap between what Jesus actually said and what the disciples (including Judas) desperately wanted to hear.
First-century Jews were steeped in Old Testament prophecies that promised a Messiah who would defeat Israel’s enemies and rule as king. Passages like Psalm 2, Zechariah 9:9–10, and Daniel 7 painted a picture of a conquering ruler. Most people expected the suffering and the triumph to happen in one lifetime, not separated by thousands of years.
Jesus’ actions fed that hope. He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey while crowds shouted “Hosanna to the Son of David!” — a clear royal title. He cleansed the temple with authority. He fed thousands in the wilderness, an echo of Moses and manna. After the feeding of the 5,000, the crowd even tried to force Him to become king (John 6:15).
At the same time, the disciples filtered Jesus’ words through their own expectations. When He said, “The kingdom of God is at hand,” they heard, “Rome is finished.”
When He promised they would sit on twelve thrones judging Israel (Matthew 19:28), they pictured political power. Even after Jesus plainly predicted His suffering and death multiple times, Peter rebuked Him, and the others argued about who would be greatest in the kingdom.
Judas, as the only non-Galilean and likely a Zealot-leaning Judean, carried especially strong hopes for a military-style deliverance. He didn’t ignore Jesus’ warnings about dying — he simply believed they were temporary setbacks on the way to the real revolution.
Jesus was clear about the cross. The disciples were clear about their dreams. The collision of those two realities is what made Judas’ betrayal so tragic.
Q8: What confuses me is that Judas wasn’t the only one who seemed to misunderstand Jesus. The other disciples also seemed shocked by His arrest and death, even though He repeatedly predicted both. And at the Last Supper, He literally spoke with graphic language about His body being broken and His blood poured out for them, yet they still didn’t seem to grasp what was happening. What did they think He meant?
You’re right — it wasn’t just Judas. The rest of the disciples were also genuinely confused and shocked by the arrest, trial, and crucifixion, despite Jesus warning them multiple times.
Jesus had plainly told them at least five times that He would suffer, be killed, and rise after three days (see Mark 8:31, 9:31, 10:33–34). He even said He was going to a place they could not follow (John 13:33). Yet when it actually happened, they scattered in panic, Peter denied Him, and they hid in fear.
Why? Their minds were dominated by the hope of a political Messiah who would overthrow Rome and restore Israel’s kingdom. They filtered everything Jesus said through that expectation. Predictions of suffering were treated as temporary setbacks or metaphors, not the central plan. They were so locked into their own dreams that they simply couldn’t process the reality of the cross until after the resurrection, when Jesus “opened their minds to understand the Scriptures” (Luke 24:45).
This same partial understanding showed up at the Last Supper.
When Jesus broke the bread and said, “This is my body broken for you,” and took the cup saying, “This is my blood of the covenant, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:26–28), the disciples didn’t ask, “What do you mean?” The language felt familiar because they were in the middle of a Passover meal. They likely understood it as powerful symbolic language about sacrifice and the coming kingdom — but they probably interpreted it through their existing hopes: perhaps Jesus was speaking poetically about the cost of victory, or preparing them for a dramatic confrontation.
When He added, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19) and gave the new commandment, “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34), they likely saw these as instructions for staying united after He was gone — not as the foundation for the entire future church.
In short, they ate and drank with only partial understanding. Like the rest of Jesus’ predictions about His death, the full meaning only became clear after the resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit.
The disciples weren’t stupid. They were blinded by hope, fear, and their own expectations — just like so many of us still are today.
Q9: The biblical account of Judas is the only event I can find in the Bible where it uses terms like “Satan entered him.” Is there another reference to another person in any scripture that uses such stark “possession” language? Usually, I recall language like, “so-and-so ‘had a demon,’” but saying that Satan himself entered a person is unique, isn’t it?
Yes — the language used with Judas is unique in the entire Bible.
The Gospels record two nearly identical statements:
Luke 22:3: “Then Satan entered into Judas…”
John 13:27: “After the morsel, Satan then entered into him.”
This is the only place in Scripture where it explicitly says Satan himself entered a specific person.
Other passages speak of demonic activity, but they use different wording:
People are described as “having a demon” or “having an unclean spirit” (for example, the Gadarene demoniac in Mark 5 or Mary Magdalene, who had seven demons).
In Acts 5:3, Peter tells Ananias, “Why has Satan filled your heart” to lie — close, but “filled the heart” is not the same as “entered into him.”
Jesus once told Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” (Matthew 16:23), but that was Jesus addressing Satan speaking through Peter, not Satan personally entering him.
No other named individual in the Bible receives the exact, stark description of Satan entering them. Even when demons possess people, the text usually says an “unclean spirit” or “demon” entered, not Satan himself.
The uniqueness of the language highlights how serious Judas’ betrayal was. Because he was an insider — one of the Twelve — Satan took direct, personal action at the decisive moment.
Judas alone carries this grim distinction in Scripture.
Q10: Does anything in scripture (or Christian tradition) lead us to believe that Judas is in hell beyond all doubt? If so, is it said that it’s a particularly egregious place in hell, worse than any damnation anyone else has experienced (or ever will)?
Yes — Scripture and the entire historic Christian tradition treat Judas as the only named individual in the New Testament who is presented as lost forever.
Jesus Himself calls him “the son of destruction” (John 17:12) — the only person given that title — and says, “It would have been better for that man if he had not been born” (Matthew 26:24; Mark 14:21). After the betrayal, Peter states that Judas “turned aside to go to his own place” (Acts 1:25), a phrase that in Jewish thought meant final judgment in Gehenna.
No other named person receives this combination of language. The Bible never hints that Judas repented savingly or was restored. His remorse led to despair and suicide, not to godly repentance (Matthew 27:3–5; compare 2 Corinthians 7:10).
Christian tradition has been unanimous for 2,000 years. Early church fathers (Irenaeus, Augustine, and Chrysostom) and later theologians across Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant streams all viewed Judas as finally lost.
As for whether his place in hell is especially severe: Scripture teaches degrees of punishment based on knowledge and privilege (Luke 12:47–48; Matthew 11:22–24). Judas had the highest possible privilege — three years walking with Jesus, seeing miracles, hearing every teaching — yet betrayed Him with a kiss. The phrase “better never to have been born” is unique to him and implies the worst possible outcome.
Tradition has therefore placed Judas in the deepest category of the damned — the ultimate warning of what happens when grace is known intimately but finally rejected.
Q11: Isn’t that absolutely terrifying? I can’t tell if it’s more comforting or discomforting to ponder the idea that he may have had free will and chose all of this knowingly, or that he had been chosen to do so and had no free will in the matter at all.
Yes — it is absolutely terrifying. And the Bible refuses to let us escape the tension by choosing one “comforting” option over the other.
On one hand, Judas clearly acted with free will. He consciously negotiated the price, chose the moment to betray Jesus with a kiss, and later admitted, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood” (Matthew 27:4). His actions were voluntary.
On the other hand, Scripture also shows God’s sovereignty. Jesus chose Judas, knowing he would betray Him (John 6:70–71), and the betrayal fulfilled prophecy that “had to be fulfilled” (Acts 1:16; John 17:12). The event was part of God’s determined plan (Acts 2:23).
This creates an uncomfortable mystery: Judas was fully responsible for his choices, and his actions were part of God’s sovereign purpose. The Bible holds both truths together without resolving the tension for us.
That’s why it feels so disturbing.
If Judas had total free will, then anyone — even someone close to Jesus — can walk away.
If everything was predetermined, then divine choice feels overwhelming.
The Scriptures don’t soothe us with a simple answer. Instead, they give us a warning and a command: “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you” (Philippians 2:12–13).
The terror of Judas pushes us to the only safe response: cling to Jesus today, rather than trying to solve the mystery of divine sovereignty and human responsibility.
Q12: Did any of the disciples suspect Judas at any point? You’d almost have to believe they did because he’d lived with them for three years, right? How could they live so closely in fellowship with someone and not know that he was a traitor?
No — surprisingly, none of the disciples suspected Judas until the exact moment Jesus revealed it at the Last Supper.
All four Gospels show the same reaction when Jesus announced, “One of you will betray me”:
They were shocked and sorrowful. They began looking at one another and asking, “Is it I?” — each suspecting himself, not Judas (Matthew 26:22; Mark 14:19; Luke 22:23; John 13:22).
Even after Jesus identified the betrayer by handing Judas the dipped morsel, the others still didn’t get it. John 13:28–29 says some thought Jesus was simply sending Judas out to buy supplies for the feast or to give money to the poor.
Why didn’t they suspect him earlier?
Judas had been a trusted insider for three full years. He was the group’s treasurer and handled their money without any recorded complaint.
There were no obvious red flags in daily life. He ate, slept, traveled, and ministered alongside them like everyone else.
Jesus kept the knowledge private. He knew from the beginning (John 6:64, 70–71), but He never warned the others or exposed Judas publicly until the final night.
The disciples were focused on their own hopes and fears, not on watching one another for signs of treason.
They lived in close fellowship with Judas, yet they were completely blind to his intentions. He was the ultimate sleeper agent inside Jesus’ inner circle.
The lack of suspicion makes the betrayal even more devastating — and serves as a sobering reminder that outward closeness to Jesus does not guarantee a transformed heart.
Q13: How do I know that I’m not a Judas? Can I choose to be? Can I choose not to be?
This is the most personal and sobering question the story of Judas forces us to ask.
The short answer is this: You are not automatically a Judas, but the possibility exists for any of us — which is exactly why the story is terrifying.
Judas wasn’t born a betrayer. He walked with Jesus, saw the miracles, heard the teachings, and was sent out with the others to preach and cast out demons. Yet he still chose betrayal. That means proximity to Jesus does not guarantee a saved heart.
So how do you know you’re not a Judas?
You cannot know with absolute certainty by looking at your past closeness to Jesus or your religious activity. Judas had all of that. The real test is present and ongoing:
Do you truly trust and love Jesus more than your own ambitions, comfort, or expectations?
When Jesus calls you to the cross (denying yourself, suffering, obedience), do you follow — or do you quietly look for a way out?
When you sin, do you run to Jesus in repentance (like Peter), or do you run away in despair (like Judas)?
You can choose to be like Judas. Anyone can harden their heart, nurse disappointment with God, and ultimately walk away. But you can also choose not to be. Every day, you can choose to cling to Christ, confess sin quickly, and obey even when it costs you.
The Bible’s answer is not “Relax, you’re safe.” It’s “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you” (Philippians 2:12–13).
The best way to make sure you are not a Judas is to keep looking to Jesus — not to your own faithfulness, but to His. Stay close to Him today. Repent quickly. Love Him more than your own dreams. That is the path Peter took.
It is the path still open to every one of us.
Q14: Doesn’t the fact that Judas regretted his decision mean he was repentant? He was overcome with anguish and grief—couldn’t that mean he had a conscience and realized his error? If he wasn’t a believer, wouldn’t he have felt nothing at all?
This is one of the most common and understandable reactions to Judas’ story. He did feel deep regret. He even tried to return the thirty pieces of silver, saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood” (Matthew 27:4). So was that repentance?
The Bible makes a crucial distinction here between regret and repentance.
Judas experienced what the New Testament calls worldly sorrow — a heavy, painful guilt that leads to despair and death. The apostle Paul draws a sharp distinction:
“Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.” (2 Corinthians 7:10)
Judas’ sorrow was real, but it was directed inward. He was overwhelmed by shame and horror at what he had done, yet he never turned to Jesus for forgiveness. Instead, he tried to fix it himself by returning the money to the priests, and when that failed, he despaired and hanged himself.
True repentance (the kind that saves) always turns toward God/Jesus. It confesses sin and trusts in His mercy. Peter had the same kind of failure on the same night, but when he realized what he had done, he “went out and wept bitterly” — and later ran back to the risen Jesus, who restored him completely (John 21).
Judas had a conscience. He knew he had done wrong. But having a guilty conscience is not the same as having saving faith. Many people feel terrible about their sin without ever turning to Christ for forgiveness.
So no — Judas’ anguish does not prove he was repentant in the biblical sense, nor does it mean he was ultimately saved. It actually makes his tragedy deeper: he came so close to the light, felt the weight of his sin, and still chose despair over the mercy that was still available to him.
Q15: What is the ultimate lesson Judas offers us? Is there one?
The ultimate lesson from Judas is this:
You can be very close to Jesus and still not belong to Him.
Judas walked with Jesus for three years, heard every teaching, saw every miracle, ate the Last Supper, and was sent out with the other disciples to preach and cast out demons. Yet he still betrayed the Son of God.
This stands in sharp contrast to Peter. On the same night Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss, Peter denied Him three times with curses. Both men failed spectacularly. Both felt deep remorse. But their responses diverged completely:
Judas turned inward in despair, tried to fix it himself by returning the money, and then hanged himself.
Peter turned outward to Jesus, wept bitterly, and later met the risen Christ on the shore where he was fully restored (John 21).
The difference was not the size of their sin, but where they took their failure. Judas trusted in his own remorse. Peter trusted in Jesus’ mercy.
Judas warns us that religious closeness, spiritual activity, and even apostolic privilege are not the same as genuine faith and love for Christ. You can handle the moneybag, perform miracles, and still have a heart that ultimately loves something else more.
The story doesn’t leave us in despair, though. It leaves us with a clear choice: When you fail (and we all will), will you run from Jesus like Judas, or run to Him like Peter?
That is the ultimate lesson Judas offers every one of us.
End
This was an interesting—if discomforting conversation. I’m still stewing on it.
It reminds me of how people speak of marriage and divorce. I have many friends who have gotten divorced. Occasionally, they’ll open up to me about how this dreadful event happened and what brought them to it.
One thing that stands out from all my discussions with my divorced friends is that all of them say some version of “I never thought I would get divorced. I never thought it could happen to me.”
None of them, while standing at the altar, offering vows of fidelity until natural death, thought, “If this doesn’t work out, I’ll just get divorced.”
They all thought they would last. Their marriage would last. And it did… until it didn’t.
At least with all the people I’ve talked to about divorce, none of them really saw it coming. It surprised them greatly. Sometimes, it was a total shock.
I wonder how similar these two are. Will I betray my wife someday?
NEVER! I would NEVER betray my wife! I made a vow to her before God and many witnesses that this would never happen!
Well… Peter said the same to Jesus, even more strongly than what I said at the altar.
Peter answered him, “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!” And all the disciples said the same.
Matthew 26:33-35
Everyone knows the story: he immediately denies Him, three times in a row. (Insert facepalm here). So where do I get off thinking I would never betray my wife… or my God?
That is a horrifying thought.
If Peter can do it, I can do it. No matter how strongly or how often I promise that I won’t.
But one lesson in all of this is that forgiveness exists. Peter took it; Judas did not.
Lord, make me like Peter, not like Judas.
My eternity depends on it.
Evanescence wrote “tourniquet” asking the question if you can still make Heaven after a suicide.
But Judas?
We may have that opportunity in our lifetimes. I forgot the specific lines but it’s along the lines of if you deny Him, He will deny you.
You also quoted Luke for the Penitent Thief, of whom I will paint in my lifetime. That is possibly my favorite line in the Bible because it gives us hope.
Think of the context. He’s up there. In obvious pain. And still sees that the man next to him is good, figures out who He really is, and asks to join Him in His Kingdom.
And He says yes.