S2 Ep.23-Follow Me Part 4: Judas And The Mercy We Resist

Judas Iscariot makes most of us tense up, because his name feels like a shortcut to the worst parts of the Passion story. But I want to slow down and look at what the Gospels actually show: before Judas becomes the betrayer, Judas is a disciple Jesus chooses intentionally. He walks the same roads as the others, hears the Sermon on the Mount, witnesses miracles, and even participates in ministry. That detail doesn’t excuse the betrayal, but it does force an uncomfortable question: how do we talk about failure without turning a human life into a single label? 

We sit with the mystery Scripture leaves us about Judas’s motives and consider what that ambiguity might teach us about the complexity of the human heart. Then we look at the betrayal itself and Jesus’ response, not with rage or revenge, but with a kind of steady dignity that reveals something essential about the heart of God. From there, the spotlight shifts to another disciple who falls hard: Peter. Both men stumble, both feel regret, yet their stories diverge in a way that opens up a larger conversation about despair, hope, and the possibility of forgiveness. 

A lot of this lands close to home, because regret is one of the most universal human experiences. We’re often quick to offer compassion to friends carrying guilt, but slow to extend the same grace to ourselves. I talk about what it means to believe that forgiveness is real without minimizing what happened, and why the gospel keeps insisting that the truest thing about us is that we are beloved children of God. If this helped you, subscribe, share the episode with someone who needs mercy today, and leave a review so more people can find the podcast.

Let's Get Into It!!

Transcript

Welcome And Series Finale Setup

Speaker 0:08

Hello, friends, and welcome back to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart. I'm Steve Pozzato, and as always, I am grateful that you have chosen to spend some time with me today. Well, over the past several weeks we have walked beside people whose lives were transformed by Jesus. And today we come to the final episode in our series called Follow Me. We met Matthew, who followed despite his own past and his actions. We met Peter and Andrew as they left their nets and stood with them. We met Jude, who learned to see someone familiar in a new way. And today we arrive at a disciple whose name often makes us uncomfortable. Judas Iscariot. For many Christians, Judas is remembered for a small number of things. You may know some of these words or think of them or have already thought of them when you heard the name. Betrayal, thirty pieces of silver, a kiss in the garden, the arrest of Jesus. And because of that, Judas has become one of the most hated figures in Christian history. Yet I wonder if we might spend some time today looking a little bit more carefully at him. And I don't want you to think that this is excusing what Judas did, or not to pretend that the betrayal isn't real. But it is rather to remember something that we often forget. Before Judas was the betrayer, Judas was a disciple, an apostle.

Judas Was Chosen As Disciple

Speaker 2:10

And perhaps there is something important for us to learn there. When we read the Gospels, something remarkable becomes clear. Jesus called Judas not accidentally and not by mistake. And he didn't slip into the group unnoticed somehow, but by reading the Gospels, we know that Jesus' actions were intentional. Jesus Christ chose Judas Iscariot. It's the same Jesus who called Peter, it's the same Jesus who called John and Matthew and all the others. And let's think about that for just a moment. When Jesus gathered the twelve, Judas was among them. When Jesus taught, Judas listened and learned. And when Jesus healed, Judas watched. When Jesus fed the crowds, Judas was there, and when Jesus sent the disciples out to preach and heal and gave them authority to do so, Judas went with them. Judas healed others. For years Judas walked the same roads as all the other disciples and apostles, and that means that Judas saw, experienced, witnessed miracles. He heard the Sermon on the Mount. He witnessed acts of compassion. He experienced the presence of Christ. And he was not an outsider. He was one of the twelve. And I think that matters because it reminds us that even those who fall, even those who stumble, are often people who once genuinely tried to follow. And one of the dangers of reading scripture is that we sometimes reduce people to a single moment in that way. Thomas became the doubter, Peter becomes the denier, Martha the worrier, Judas became the betrayer, and Paul, who writes many letters of the epistles that we read, was once a killer. But real human lives are always a bit more complicated than they are when they're just written down. None of us would want to be remembered solely for our worst day for certain. I know I wouldn't. There are a lot of things that I hope I'm not remembered for. And I suspect that some of you also have some of those moments in your lives. Some perhaps more serious than others. But we don't summarize ourselves that way. We can't. We know that our lives are much more than the sums of one event or moment or another. They are all the days in our lives, good, bad, and otherwise. Imagine if someone else

More Than A Worst Moment

Speaker 6:05

was spending our entire lives summarizing us by the moments that we most regretted. One mistake or one terrible decision. Just like Judas, just like Peter and Thomas and Paul, the one moment doesn't tell the whole story. And yet that's what we often do with Judas. We forget that there was a life before the betrayal, that there was a journey before the tragedy, that there was a disciple before the stumble, before the fall. And the truth is that scripture never fully explains Judas, and perhaps that's intentional. Was he disappointed that Jesus wasn't becoming a political Messiah? You know, did greed slowly take hold? Was he frustrated, confused, impatient? Was he trying to force Jesus' hand by betraying him? Was part of that story left out? Were good things that Judas did left out of the gospels that were written decades following Jesus' death? Were good things that he did left out so that we would see him as the betrayer? After all, the apostles who wrote these gospels and others would have been very hurt by his betrayal just as Jesus was. And they make human decisions as well. Is that possible? The Gospels offer us clues, but never complete certainty. We don't know the moment that Judas was called, really. We don't know if Judas and Jesus had a series of conversations in the camp as they traveled for those three years, outside of the things that they do say to each other later. Maybe the uncertainty, rather, is important because it reminds us that human beings, Jesus included, are rarely simple. At that point, Jesus was still perhaps reconciling the fact that he was a man and the Son of God. And people who followed him, just like we today and all those throughout history, are and were capable of both devotion and of stepping away, capable of faithfulness and weakness, love and fear, courage and regret. The human heart is complicated, and Judas reminds us of that reality. The betrayal itself is heartbreaking. Not only because of what Judas does, but because of how he does it. A sign normally associated with affection and trust. Yet even here, Jesus responds in a remarkable way. He does not call Judas a monster, and he does not curse him, and he does not seek revenge. Instead, Jesus meets betrayal with dignity. Compassion remains present even in that terrible moment, and perhaps that tells us something about the heart of God. There is so much prophecy that Jesus lives up to as well. I have a hard time believing that Jesus didn't know who and what his disciples were and what they would do. He could have steered clear of Judas, but he did not. He could have stayed out of

Betrayal And Jesus' Dignity

Speaker 10:45

Jerusalem at that time, but he did not. And he could have told Judas he was going one place and then went and hid somewhere else on the night that he knew that Judas was leaving the dinner to betray him. But he did not. But that the passion, the events following the arrest of Jesus up to his death, is not something that Jesus went through. It is something he went to willingly so that he could redeem us. So that he could take the cross in our stead. Judas betrayed him, but Judas was also not the one who condemned him to death. And we come to this moment of the Passion that I want to talk about because one of the more striking elements of the Passion story is that it's not just Judas who has one of these moments where he falls as a disciple. Peter also has it. He denies Jesus three times, just as Jesus foretold. And of course, we know of Judas' betrayal. Both of them have a stumbling moment. Both experience regret. Both are overwhelmed by what they have done, and yet their stories diverge.

Peter, Judas, And The Fork

Speaker 12:45

Peter eventually encounters the risen Christ, but perhaps only because he ran away and fled with the other apostles before the crucifixion, so that they would also not be caught and perhaps killed. But he lived to encounter the risen Christ. He hears forgiveness and he discovers that perhaps moments of weakness, moments where we fall, perhaps in ways that we regret, are not the end of the story. Judas, however, never reaches that moment, and that is a tragedy. Not simply because he betrayed Jesus, but that he seems unable to imagine a future beyond his betrayal. And Matthew tells us something important: that after the betrayal, Judas feels remorse. He returns the silver. He confesses, I have sinned by betraying innocent blood, whatever his motivations were. To me, those do not sound like the words of someone who is celebrating evil. They sound like the words of someone crushed by regret. And I suspect that many of us understand regret as well. Perhaps we don't know Judas's particular failure there. But we do know regret. We know it in the conversation we wish we could take back, or the opportunity that we missed, the relationship that we had a part in damaging, the choice we wish we had made differently. Regret is one of the most universal human experiences, and at some point nearly everyone asks, What if? Or they say, if only, or I should have. And we regret them. Especially when we can do nothing about them. This is a time when we need to give ourselves more grace, perhaps, than we usually allow for ourselves. Because one of the curious things about Christians is that we so often believe in grace for everyone and are willing to give it. Except for and to ourselves. We believe that God can forgive Peter. We believe God can forgive David and Paul. We believe God can forgive strangers. We can even believe a moment where Jesus forgives those who have crucified him and are standing before him. Those who have condemned him to death, he forgives. Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do. But when it comes to our own lives, suddenly we become much less certain. And perhaps you know what I mean. Someone comes to you carrying guilt. They tell you about a mistake that they made years ago, a relationship that they had a part in damaging, a decision they regret, an opportunity they missed. And what do we do? My friends, we offer compassion. I know you do, because I do it too. We tell them that healing is possible and that grace is real. We remind them that one mistake does not define an entire life. We become agents of mercy. Yet when we look in the mirror, we often tell ourselves a very different story. We become our own harshest critics, our own fiercest judges, our own least forgiving companions. We remember every weakness, every moment worthy of regret, every embarrassment, every wrong turn, every careless word, every moment we wish we could relive. And over

Regret, Grace, And Self-Forgiveness

Speaker 17:45

time, we begin carrying burdens that God never asked us to carry. I have sat with many people over the years who have carried regrets that were decades old inside and outside the vocation of ministry. Any time someone had said, I don't know why I'm telling you this, was a moment. These happened in lunch breaks, they happened outside on walks, they happened sitting with them watching a baseball game. I've sat with people, and I suspect you have as well. Sometimes they speak about these moments through tears, and sometimes they speak about them with a quiet sadness that has settled into their hearts. And what always strikes me is how often, and how almost always, these are good people, faithful people, kind people, people who have spent years serving others, that's how we know them. Yet they remain unable to extend to themselves the same grace that they freely offer everyone else. It's the same grace that we freely offer everyone else too, except ourselves sometimes. And maybe that's because self-forgiveness feels risky, indulgent, perhaps. If we forgive ourselves, we worry we are excusing perhaps what had happened. If we let go of our guilt, we fear that we are perhaps minimizing the consequences. But forgiveness is not pretending something never happened. It is refusing to let the past have the final word. The truth is that there are things in life we cannot undo. There are words we have spoken, choices we have made, and again relationships that we have had a part in damaging. There is lost time. And the older we become, the more we discover that some chapters cannot be rewritten. And perhaps we lament for a time that is no longer possible. And if we're not careful, regret can become our permanent residence. We carry the bricks for so long that when we put them down, it is not to free ourselves of them, it is to build a home with them, a place we reside behind the guilt. We replay old conversations and revisit old decisions. We imagine different endings and we ask ourselves what might have been, but eventually we encounter a difficult truth. The past cannot be changed. The only thing that can change is how we carry it. Because, my friends, the past is that. But it also never tells us that they are the truest thing about us either. Because, my friends, the truest thing about us is that we are beloved children of God. We are broken at times, we are wounded at times, we are frail at times, but loved, always loved. I sometimes imagine a conversation that never happened. I imagine Judas sitting quietly among the disciples after the resurrection. I imagine Peter sitting beside him. Peter who denied Jesus three times, and Judas who betrayed him, and Peter saying, Perhaps, brother, I thought my story was over too. Because Peter knows a thing or two about falling down, about stumbling, about perhaps losing his way. And maybe that is a lesson that all disciples eventually learn is that grace is not something that we earn, but mercy is a gift. That forgiveness is not something that we feel we deserve. And yet mercy is still the gift given. And we have to remember, folks, that Christ came precisely for broken people, not for the ninety-nine sheep who did not stray, but for the one, not for the Pharisees who stood outside the door, but for the people he dined with, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, and others. Why did Christ come for the broken people? My friends, because those are the only kind of people there are, even those who have called themselves or have been called the righteous, are still living in their brokenness. Maybe there is someone listening today who needs to hear this. But my friends, you are not the worst thing that you have ever done or said, or were a part of. And if God has not given up on you, because he has not, perhaps it is time to stop giving up on ourselves. If you have grace to offer, and you do, offer it to yourself too. You know, I wonder something else as well. I wonder what would happen if Judas had remained. What if he had lived long enough to encounter the resurrection and had stood in the upper room with the others? What if he had heard Jesus' words? Peace be with you. I cannot imagine that the Jesus who forgave Peter refusing forgiveness to Judas. Again, the Christ who prayed for his executioners. I cannot imagine him withholding mercy from a broken disciple. Scripture doesn't answer that question, but it does reveal again and again the astonishing breadth of God's grace. And so that must mean that Judas, a person we have come perhaps to hate or have learned to look down upon with disdain,

Beloved Beyond Failure

Speaker 26:40

was also worthy of mercy and grace and forgiveness. And very likely he was forgiven and was given grace, even if he never gave it to himself. And perhaps the hardest person to forgive is ourselves. We often believe in grace intellectually, we proclaim it in church and we celebrate it in hymns. Yet when it comes to our own moments that we regret, we hesitate, and perhaps we even wonder if we're the exception, the one person that God cannot or will not redeem, the one person too large for mercy, the one wound too deep for healing. Yet the gospel continually tells a different story. Again and again, Jesus moves toward broken people, not away from them, toward them, toward us, toward me, and toward you. And maybe that is one reason the story of Judas continues to haunt us, not because we see ourselves in his betrayal, but because we see ourselves in his despair. And maybe the invitation of the gospel is not to avoid stumbling, falling, failing at all costs. Maybe it is to trust that those moments are never the end of the story. And so maybe this final episode of Follow Me is really all about all of us. Because every disciple eventually stumbles. Every disciple falls short, every disciple experiences moment of weakness. And the question is not whether we fail, the question is what happens next? Do we allow that failure, the fall, the stumble, the weakest moment to define us, or do we trust that God's grace is larger than our mistakes? My friends, Peter eventually learned that lesson, and perhaps we are invited to learn it as well. One of the most hopeful truths in Scripture is that God has a long history of working with imperfect people. Abraham lies, Jacob deceives, Moses loses his temper, David commits terrible sins, Jonah runs away, Peter denies, Thomas doubts, and yet God continues working through them. And it's not because those moments of weakness don't matter. It's because those moments are never the final word. The story of faith is not a story of people succeeding and becoming perfect. It is a story of imperfect people discovering that God's grace is greater than they could have possibly imagined. And that is true for us today as it was when the Bible was written. It is true for us today as it was in the time of Jesus and Judas, in the time of Moses. It is true for us in all the times in between. God's grace will always be greater than we imagined, but it is still always present, just as God is. Before he was the betrayer, he was a disciple. Before he failed, he followed, and before the darkness there was devotion. And that should make us careful whenever we judge another person, because every human life is more than its worst moment. Every person carries complexity and every person carries struggle, but every person also bears the image of God, and every person stands in need of grace. And so perhaps those words that we have defined Judas as betrayer, traitor. Other words that describe him are also apostle, healer, student. So perhaps the final lesson of follow me is this. So if you are carrying regret today, if there is a chapter of your life you wish had been written differently, if there is a mistake that still follows you, hear this. You are not beyond God's mercy. You are not beyond God's love, and you are not beyond God's grace. The same people who lived in the time of Christ, who felt Him. Those same people lived lives as we do, with regret and other human struggles. But the Christ who called fishermen, tax collectors, doubters, and grieving disciples is still calling people today. And that includes you and me. The story is not over. Grace still has another word to speak. And thanks be to God for that.

Prayer For Mercy And Gentleness

Speaker 33:42

Let us pray together, my friends. Gracious and loving God, you know our strengths and our weaknesses. You know our faithfulness and our failures. You know the burdens we carry and the regrets we hide. You know the chapters of our lives that bring us joy and the chapters we wish we could rewrite. Help us to trust in your mercy. Teach us to believe that your grace is greater than our mistakes. Give us compassion for others and gentleness toward ourselves. And when shame tells us that we are defined by our failures, remind us that we are defined by your love. When regret weighs heavily upon us, help us to place those burdens into your hands. And when we struggle to forgive ourselves, help us remember that your mercy is wider than our imagination. Help us to rise when we stumble. Help us to hope when there is despair. Help us to trust that your grace continues to seek us even when we cannot see it. And may we leave this series remembering that discipleship is not about perfection. Lord, it is about walking with Christ, trusting in Christ, and returning to Christ again and again as many times as it takes. So in the name of Jesus, whose mercy and love never end. Amen.

Closing And What’s Next

Speaker 35:31

My friends, if you have stuck with me through this longer podcast episode and throughout this follow me series, it truly has been a joy to walk alongside these disciples with you, even in the harder moments that we have spoken about. Next Saturday will be July 4th. And because we won't speak before then, I wish you a happy Fourth of July celebration with family and friends, and one that is safe as well. Please be safe, and please help others to be safe if you're able. But all through the month of July, we will be discussing the Sermon on the Mount, with the final episode of the month being a recitation of the Sermon on the Mount. So I hope you'll join for that as well. And my friends, remember to be kind in the world. And that includes being kind to yourself. Carry the light of love wherever you go, my friends, because wherever you carry it, there will you go in peace. And so be well, my friends. And until next time, be well. Farewell. And we will speak again soon.