JUDAS: Why Did Jesus Choose Judas Knowing He Would Betray Him?

JUDAS: Why Did Jesus Choose Judas Knowing He Would Betray Him?

30 pieces of silver.

That was the price placed on the most famous betrayal in history.

But there is a question that has haunted us for 2,000 years.

A question that keeps us awake when we really stop and think about it.

Jesus knew from the beginning.

John 6:64 says it plainly.

[music] Jesus knew from the start who did not believe and who would betray him.

So why? Why choose the very one who would betray you? Why give him the money bag? Why seat him at your table? Call him friend.

Wash his feet.

Today we are going to step into the darkest corners of this story because Judas was not a cartoon villain.

He was a man, a complex, broken, disillusioned man.

And that is exactly the part that hurts the most.

Let’s begin where no one wants to begin.

Judas was chosen.

He did not accidentally end up among the 12.

He did not sneak in.

Jesus called him, looked him in the eyes, and said, “Follow me.

” Just as he did to Peter, just as he did to John.

And here is the part that makes us uncomfortable.

Jesus knew what was going to happen.

So his choice was intentional.

It was not a casting mistake.

It was not a failure of discernment.

It was a deliberate decision to bring into his inner circle someone who would carry darkness within him.

And that leads us to an uncomfortable truth about ministry, about community, about the church itself.

Jesus shows us that the kingdom of God is not an exclusive club for perfect people.

It is a hospital full of sick people and some of those sick people will never want to be healed.

But let’s go deeper.

Who was Judas really before he became a synonym for betrayal? The Chosen does something remarkable.

It shows Judas as human.

We see him laughing with the other disciples, worrying about the group’s finances, having sincere ideas about how the ministry should function.

And that is where the real tragedy begins to reveal itself.

Judas was not a monster from birth.

He was a man with expectations, with dreams, with his own vision of what the Messiah should be.

And that was his first mistake, creating a Christ in his own image instead of allowing Christ to transform him.

Imagine the scene.

A young Jewish man, probably educated, familiar with the scriptures, passionate about the liberation [music] of his people.

When he hears about Jesus, about the miracles, the crowds, the authority with which he speaks, something ignites in his heart.

This is the one, he thinks.

This is the man who will overthrow Rome.

This is the one who will restore the kingdom of Israel.

He effortlessly destroys his captors, leads us to victory over Rome, and takes his rightful place on the throne of David.

And when Jesus calls him, Judas does not just say yes.

He says yes to what he thinks Jesus is going to do, not to who Jesus truly is.

And there, right there, is the seed of every betrayal.

Following Jesus for what we expect to receive from him, not for who he is.

Those first months must have been intoxicating.

The miracles, the crowds, the obvious power.

Judas is there, front and center, watching Jesus feed 5,000 people with five loaves, watching him raise the dead, watching people fall before him.

It is only a matter of time, Judas thinks, only a matter of time before he declares his kingdom, before he takes power, before we sit on thrones ruling Israel.

But then Jesus begins talking about strange things, about dying, about serving, about the last becoming first, about taking up the cross.

And Judas begins to feel that something does not fit the plan.

This is where the psychology becomes both fascinating and painful because Judas did not wake up one day and decide to be evil.

It was a process, a slow erosion.

Every time Jesus spoke of humility instead of conquest, every time he refused to let people make him king by [music] force, every time he healed a leper instead of organizing an army, something inside Judas broke.

Disillusionment is one of the most dangerous emotions that exists because it disguises [music] itself as wisdom.

“I was right from the beginning,” disillusionment whispers.

“This is going nowhere.

I have been deceived.

” And then there is the money.

Ah, the money.

John tells us that Judas was a thief, that he stole from the common purse.

But let’s think about this more deeply.

Was greed really his main problem or was it a symptom of something darker? When you lose faith in the mission, when you stop believing in the leader, when you realize this is not going to end the way you expected, what do you have [music] left? “At least let me get paid for my time,” Judas thinks.

“At least let me get something out of this.

” Judas’ greed was not only a love of money, it was compensation for a dead hope.

It was the desperate attempt of a man who felt he had invested 3 years of his life in a cause that was going to fail.

But Jesus knew.

Jesus saw every coin Judas stole.

He saw the darkness growing in his heart.

He saw disillusionment turning into bitterness.

And still, he kept him close.

He kept loving him.

He kept giving him opportunities.

And this is what shatters all our usual ways of thinking.

Jesus’ love was not conditional on Judas changing.

Jesus did not say, “When you stop stealing, then I will love you.

” He did not say, “When you align your expectations with my mission, then you will be my disciple.

” He loved him knowing the ending.

He loved him knowing that love would be rejected.

He loved him even in the betrayal.

Then comes the climactic moment, the Passover meal.

Jesus washes Judas’ feet.

Let me say that again because it is too great to pass over.

Jesus kneels before the man who, within hours, will sell him out, and he washes his feet.

He wipes away the dust of the road.

And Judas is there, feeling the hands of God cleansing his dirty feet.

And yet his heart is so hardened that not even that breaks him.

Jesus offers him the morsel, a sign of honor, of special friendship.

“What you are going to do, do quickly,” he tells him, not with hatred, but with infinite sorrow, with the knowledge that some people will choose darkness even when the light is kneeling right in front of them.

30 pieces of silver, the
price of a slave.

Judas goes to the chief priests and makes the deal.

But listen carefully because this is crucial.

Judas did not betray Jesus because he was some soulless monster.

He betrayed him because he was a broken man who made the wrong choice at every crossroads.

Maybe he thought he could force Jesus’ hand.

Maybe he thought, “Once they arrest him, he will have to defend himself.

He will have to reveal his power.

He will have to establish his kingdom.

” Maybe Judas believed he was speeding up the not destroying it.

Or maybe he was simply so disillusioned, so bitter, so tired of waiting for a kingdom that never seemed to come that he decided at least to get something out of all of it.

The kiss.

My God, the kiss.

The sign of betrayal is a gesture of love.

“With a kiss you betray the Son of Man?” Jesus asks.

[music] And in that question is all the sorrow of heaven.

It is not an accusation.

It is a lament.

It is the heart of God breaking because one of his chosen ones is using the language of affection to carry out an act of hatred.

And even so, Jesus calls him friend.

Even in the moment of betrayal, Jesus does not take that title away from him.

Friend, because Jesus’ love does not depend on our loyalty.

It depends on his nature.

And then comes what no one expected.

Judas sees Jesus condemned.

He sees that he does not defend himself.

He sees that the kingdom is not coming.

He sees that Jesus really is going to die.

And something breaks inside him.

Not repentance at first, remorse.

There is a difference.

Remorse says, “I feel terrible about what I did.

” Repentance says, “I am going to change direction.

” Judas feels the crushing weight of what he has done.

He runs to return the silver.

“I have sinned by betraying innocent blood,” [music] he cries.

But he no longer seeks Jesus.

He seeks the priests.

He seeks the men who used him.

And they answer him with the coldness reserved for a disposable instrument.

“What is that to us? That is your problem.

” Judas is alone, completely [music] alone.

And here is the final tragedy.

His last act is not to run toward Jesus.

It is to run toward death.

He hangs himself.

And while his body hangs from that rope, only hours before Jesus will hang on a cross, the difference between their two cries will echo for eternity.

Judas dies in despair, convinced there is no way back.

Jesus dies in redemption, opening the way back for everyone who has been lost.

I would even dare to say, for Judas, too, if he had wanted to take it.

>> [music] >> So why did Jesus choose him, knowing what would happen? Because the story of Judas is not only about Judas.

It is a mirror.

It is a warning.

It is a vivid demonstration that you can stand in the presence of Jesus and still be lost.

You can see miracles and remain blind.

You can hear truth and still choose lies.

You can be called and still reject the call.

Jesus chose Judas because we needed to see that proximity to the sacred does not guarantee transformation.

Only surrender does.

Jesus chose Judas because the plan of redemption required betrayal.

And God, in his mysterious sovereignty, uses even the dark decisions of men to accomplish his purposes of light.

Without Judas, there is no arrest.

Without the arrest, there is no trial.

Without the trial, there is no cross.

Without the cross, there is no resurrection.

But be careful.

This does not make Judas a hero.

It makes God’s plan so great that it can absorb even human evil without being stained by it.

Jesus chose Judas to show us that he does not reject people because of their potential to fail.

If he did, none of us would be here.

Peter denied him three times and was restored.

Judas betrayed him once and destroyed himself.

The difference was not the severity of the sin.

The difference was the direction they took afterward.

Peter ran toward Jesus with his shame.

Judas ran away from Jesus with his guilt.

And maybe that is the most painful and beautiful lesson of all.

Jesus chose Judas knowing the ending because Jesus chooses all of us knowing our endings.

[music] He knows every moment we will fail him.

Every time we will place our plans above his.

Every instance when our expectations of who he should be will collide with who he really is.

And still, he calls us.

He seats us at his table.

He washes our feet.

He offers us the morsel of honor.

The question was never really why Jesus chose Judas.

The question is this, now that Jesus has chosen you knowing everything he knows about you, what are you going to do with that calling? Will you build a Christ in your own image or will you allow Christ to remake you in his image? Will you follow him for what you expect to receive or for who he is? And when he disappoints your expectations, when his kingdom does not look like the one you imagined, when his path leads through the cross before it leads to the crown, what will you choose? Judas teaches us that betrayal does not begin with 30 pieces of silver.

It begins with small disagreements in the heart, with expectations that have never been surrendered, with money stolen from the common purse, with [music] disillusionment disguised as wisdom.

It says that no betrayal is too great, no darkness too deep, no failure too final.

If we are willing to run toward the light instead of away from it.

Jesus knew and still he chose.

That is the madness of divine love.

That is the hope that keeps us [music] breathing when we have failed for the millionth time.

God does not choose us in spite of our future failures.

He chooses us through them, over them, and with the purpose of redeeming them.

30 pieces of silver bought a betrayal, but the blood poured out on that cross purchased a redemption that is available even to traitors who want to come home.

There is a scene the Gospels do not record, [music] but my heart needs to imagine it.

It is the morning of the resurrection.

Peter and John are running toward the empty tomb.

Mary Magdalene is weeping [music] in the garden.

The disciples are hiding behind locked doors.

And somewhere in Jerusalem, Judas’s body has already been found, already been taken down, already been thrown into the field of blood that his own silver bought.

I wonder whether Jesus in those first hours after conquering death thought about him.

I wonder whether among all the appearances he would make, all the wounds he would show, all the peace be with you he would speak.

There was a moment when he looked toward that field and felt the weight of the absence.

Not the absence of a traitor, the absence of a friend who chose not to wait 3 more [music] days.

Because here is the truth that tears me apart every time I read this story.

[music] Judas missed the resurrection by less than 72 hours.

If he had waited, if he had endured the pain of his own betrayal for just one more weekend, if he had possessed even a fragment of the faith that kept Mary weeping in the garden until she heard her name, if he had carried even a spark of the hope that kept the disciples together in spite of their fear, the empty tomb would have been for him, too.

Peter denied Jesus and received, “Do you love me?” three times beside the fire.

Thomas doubted and received, “Touch my wounds.

” The disciples fled and received, “Peace be with you.

” But Judas did not wait for his moment of restoration.

And that is what makes this story not only a warning about betrayal, but also a warning about despair, about giving up too soon, about believing we have gone too far when God has never stopped reaching out his hand.

2,000 years later, we still tell the story of Judas not because we need a villain.

We have enough of those.

We tell it because all of us carry a little of Judas inside us.

All of us have had our own expectations about what God should be like.

All of us have stolen from the common purse in one way or another, taking what was not ours when faith began to shake.

All of us have kissed Jesus on Sunday and considered betraying him on Monday.

All of us have stood at the edge of that rope feeling that the weight of what we have done [music] is too great to be forgiven.

The difference between us and Judas is not that we are better.

It is that some of us, by grace, have chosen to wait 3 more days.

We have chosen to believe that the story does not end on Friday.

We have chosen to remain in the garden weeping until we hear our name.

We have chosen to stay in the room with the door shut until Jesus breaks through the walls we built out of our shame.

Jesus knew Judas would betray him and still he chose him.

Not to condemn him, but to love him, to give him every possible opportunity to choose differently, to wash his feet, to call him friend even in the kiss, to show us that the love of God is not a reward for our loyalty, but a gift in spite of our betrayal.

And if you are
reading this feeling that you have gone too far, that you have betrayed too much, that you have stolen too much from the purse, that your expectations of God have disappointed him too many times, hear this.

The tomb is empty.

It is still empty.

And the risen Christ is still seeking to restore those who failed.

He is still asking, “Do you love me?” to those who denied him.

He is still saying, “Peace be with you.

” to those who ran away.

He is still speaking names in gardens where people are weeping convinced that everything is over.

The tragedy of Judas was not that he betrayed Jesus.

It was that he did not believe he could be forgiven.

It was [music] that he chose the rope instead of waiting for the resurrection.

It was that he wrote his own ending when God still had chapters left to write.

Do not make the same mistake.

Do not end your story before God finishes his.

Do not hang your hope before you see the empty tomb because the same Jesus who knew Judas would betray him knows that you have done it, too.

And he chose you anyway.

He keeps choosing every morning, every moment, every time you stumble and fall.

30 pieces of silver bought a betrayal, but the blood poured out at Calvary bought something infinitely more valuable.

The possibility that every Judas can become a Peter, that every traitor can be transformed into a witness, that every desperate ending can be rewritten by a resurrection Sunday.

The choice, as always, is yours.

But let the story of Judas remind you of this.

Jesus already knows your worst version and he chose you anyway.

The question was never whether you are worthy of being chosen.

The question is whether you will believe that the one who chose you [music] is worthy of being followed even when he does not meet your expectations, even when his kingdom does not look like the one you imagined, even when the road passes through crosses before it reaches crowns.

Judas shows us how the story ends when we run away from grace.

But all the other disciples show us how it ends when we run toward it.

Choose wisely.

And if you have already chosen badly, remember, the tomb is still empty and the one who walked out of it is still in the business of giving second chances to those who betrayed the first.