The Heart of Christ in the Shadow of Betrayal
Notes
Transcript
Church, there are very few wounds in life that cut as deeply as betrayal.
There are hardships that every one of us experiences. We lose jobs. We lose money. We battle sickness. We bury people we love. Those things hurt deeply, but betrayal has a unique way of piercing the heart because betrayal can only come from someone you've trusted. A stranger can't betray you. Your enemy can't betray you. Betrayal comes from someone you've welcomed into your life, someone you've shared meals with, laughed with, sacrificed for, and loved.
Maybe you've experienced that kind of pain. Maybe it was a close friend who turned their back on you. Maybe it was someone in your own family. Maybe it was a marriage that ended because trust was broken. Maybe it happened in a church. Whatever the circumstance, those wounds seem to linger because betrayal attacks something deeper than our circumstances—it attacks our heart.
As painful as those experiences are, none of them compare to what we're about to witness in our passage this morning.
Let’s read the passages, pray and dive in.
21 After saying these things, Jesus was troubled in his spirit, and testified, “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” 22 The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. 23 One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at table at Jesus’ side,
24 so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. 25 So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” 26 Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I will give this morsel of bread when I have dipped it.” So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot.
27 Then after he had taken the morsel, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.” 28 Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him.
29 Some thought that, because Judas had the moneybag, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the feast,” or that he should give something to the poor. 30 So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.
So here we have John taking us into the Upper Room on the final night before the crucifixion. Jesus isn't surrounded by a hostile crowd. He isn't standing before Pilate yet. He isn't carrying the cross yet. He's gathered around a dinner table with the twelve men He has spent the last three years pouring His life into.
They've walked hundreds of miles together. They've shared countless meals together. They've watched miracles together. They've laughed together, cried together, and ministered together. These aren't strangers. They're His closest earthly companions.
And sitting at that very table is the man who is about to hand the Son of God over for thirty pieces of silver.
But church, if we're not careful, we'll read this passage and make Judas the center of the story. We can become so fascinated by the betrayer that we miss the beauty of the Savior. John isn't simply recording history for us. He's revealing the glory of Christ. The spotlight isn't ultimately on Judas. The spotlight is on Jesus. The darker the betrayal becomes, the brighter the heart of our Savior shines.
As we've walked through John's Gospel together, we've seen this over and over again. Every chapter has answered the same question in a different way: "Who is Jesus?" John isn't merely giving us information about Christ; he's inviting us to behold Him.
We've watched Jesus turn water into wine. We've seen Him heal the lame, feed the multitudes, open blind eyes, and call Lazarus out of the grave.
We've heard Him declare, "I am the Bread of Life," "I am the Light of the World," "I am the Good Shepherd," and "I am the Resurrection and the Life." Every miracle and every sermon has been revealing another glimpse of His glory.
Now John intentionally slows everything down.
The first twelve chapters of his Gospel cover roughly three years of Jesus' public ministry. Beginning here in chapter thirteen, John spends the next five chapters covering only a few hours. Think about that. Nearly half of John's Gospel is devoted to the final evening before the cross. That alone tells us something. John wants us to linger here. He wants us to listen carefully because these final conversations reveal the very heart of Christ.
Chapter thirteen began with one of the most beautiful statements in all of Scripture. John tells us,
1 Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
zero in on the end there, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
That verse is really the heading over everything that follows. Jesus washes dirty feet because He loves His own. He teaches them humility because He loves His own. He patiently instructs confused disciples because He loves His own. He comforts them about His departure because He loves His own. Even in the shadow of the cross, His thoughts aren't consumed with Himself. His heart is fixed on those He came to save.
Remember what we looked at recently. As Jesus washed the disciples' feet, Peter objected. The thought of his Master stooping to the position of a servant seemed completely backwards. But Jesus answered him, "If I do not wash you, you have no share with me." Then Jesus made a statement that becomes incredibly important for our passage today.
10 Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you.”
John immediately tells us why Jesus said that.
"For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, 'Not all of you are clean.'"
Jesus already knew.
Nothing in this chapter catches Him off guard.
Nothing surprises Him.
Nothing forces Him to change His plans.
Before Judas ever reaches the chief priests...
Before the soldiers ever arrive in the garden...
Before the nails are ever driven into His hands...
Jesus already knows every detail of what's about to happen.
That brings us to our first truth this morning.
The darkest acts of men never threaten the sovereign plan of God.
As we read verse 21, John tells us something incredibly personal.
21 After saying these things, Jesus was troubled in his spirit, and testified, “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
I love that John includes this detail because it reminds us that our Savior isn't emotionally distant. Sometimes we can become so focused on defending the deity of Christ, which we absolutely should, that we unintentionally forget the beauty of His humanity.
Jesus isn't pretending to be human. He truly entered our world. He experienced hunger. He experienced exhaustion. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus. He felt compassion for the crowds. And here, on the eve of the cross, His spirit is deeply troubled.
This isn't fear. It isn't panic. It isn't uncertainty. Jesus isn't wondering whether God's plan is going to work. He's not overwhelmed because events have suddenly spun out of control. His troubled spirit reveals something altogether different. It reveals the depth of His holy love.
The One who created Judas...the One who called Judas...the One who patiently taught Judas for three years...is grieved by the hardness of Judas' heart.
He knows exactly where this road leads. He knows the destruction that awaits His betrayer. He knows the suffering that lies immediately ahead. Sin always brings sorrow, and our perfectly holy Savior feels the weight of it more deeply than any of us ever could.
Church, I think that's something we often forget. We become so accustomed to sin that it rarely troubles us the way it should. We excuse it. We laugh about it. We justify it. We tolerate it. But Jesus sees sin for what it truly is. He sees every lie, every act of pride, every selfish motive, every betrayal, every act of rebellion exactly as it is. He knows its devastating consequences because He's about to bear its full weight upon Himself at the cross.
Yet notice what happens next.
Jesus doesn't quietly wait for Judas to leave.
He doesn't expose him to embarrass him.
He doesn't remove him from the table.
Instead, He speaks.
"Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me."
That announcement reminds us that Jesus is never reacting to history. He's directing it.
Throughout John's Gospel we've seen this theme of Jesus directing the plan repeatedly. Look at these examples.
30 So they were seeking to arrest him, but no one laid a hand on him, because his hour had not yet come.
20 These words he spoke in the treasury, as he taught in the temple; but no one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come.
14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!” 15 Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
In John 10 Jesus declared, "No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." Even now, with betrayal unfolding before our eyes, Jesus isn't losing control. He's demonstrating that He's always been in complete control.
This betrayal wasn't an unfortunate accident. It wasn't God scrambling to rescue a failed plan. Hundreds of years earlier David wrote in Psalm 41:9
9 Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me.
God wasn't surprised by Judas because Judas was never outside God's sovereign purposes.
Now here we need to hold two biblical truths together because Scripture never asks us to choose between them. Judas is fully responsible for his sin. No one forced him to betray Christ. He willingly loved money more than his Savior.
He willingly hardened his heart against years of grace.
He willingly chose darkness over light.
And yet, at the very same time, not one part of this event falls outside the sovereign plan of God. Peter will later stand on the day of Pentecost and say that Jesus was "delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God," while also declaring that wicked men were responsible for crucifying Him. The Bible doesn't apologize for those truths existing side by side. It simply declares them both.
Church, that truth ought to strengthen our hearts this morning.
If God was sovereign over the greatest evil ever committed—the murder of His own perfect Son—then He has certainly not lost control of your life. The same God who governed Calvary governs every trial you face. The same God who used betrayal to accomplish redemption is still working all things together for the good of those who love Him.
There are moments when life feels chaotic. There are seasons when circumstances don't make sense. We look around and wonder if everything is falling apart. But John reminds us that while everything may appear out of control from our perspective, heaven has never once been anxious.
The cross looked like defeat to everyone watching.
It looked like evil had won.
It looked like darkness had overcome the Light.
But all along, God was accomplishing the greatest victory the world would ever know.
Church, that same sovereign God is still writing your story today. The circumstances may confuse you. The timing may frustrate you. The suffering may seem unbearable. But if He never lost control at Calvary, He hasn't lost control of your life either.
Moving on in the text...
23 One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at table at Jesus’ side, 24 so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. 25 So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” 26 Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I will give this morsel of bread when I have dipped it.” So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot.
One of the things I love about John's Gospel is that he often slows the story down and gives us details that almost seem insignificant until we stop and think about them. At first glance, verses 23 through 26 can almost feel like simple narration. John tells us that he was reclining next to Jesus. Peter motions for him to ask who the betrayer is. Jesus quietly answers by saying He will identify the betrayer by giving him a morsel of bread. If we read too quickly, we'll miss the beauty of what's happening in the room.
John tells us that he was reclining close enough to Jesus that he could lean back against Him to ask his question privately.
Peter, apparently seated farther away, couldn't hear the conversation, so he motions for John to ask on behalf of everyone else. That little exchange gives us a glimpse into how this Passover meal was arranged.
Contrary to the famous paintings that picture everyone sitting shoulder to shoulder on one side of a long table, meals like this were normally eaten while reclining around a low table. The host occupied the central position. One honored guest would recline to his left, while another honored guest would recline to his right.
Now, Scripture doesn't explicitly tell us exactly where Judas was seated, and we always want to be careful not to speak with certainty where the Bible is silent. But many historians and biblical scholars believe Judas occupied that place of honor immediately beside Jesus. Whether every detail of that arrangement can be proven or not, one thing is absolutely clear from the text itself: Judas was close enough that Jesus personally handed him the dipped morsel, yet quietly enough that the other disciples never understood what had just taken place.
I don't want us to rush past that because I think it reveals something absolutely beautiful about the heart of our Savior.
Think about everything Jesus already knows.
He knows Judas is going meet with the chief priests.
He knows thirty pieces of silver have already been counted out.
He knows Judas has already made up his mind.
He knows that within a matter of hours Judas will lead an armed crowd into the Garden of Gethsemane and identify Him with a kiss.
Jesus knows all of that.
And yet, where do we find Judas?
Close enough to reach.
Close enough to speak with.
Close enough to serve.
Church, doesn't that just magnify the compassion of Christ?
Hours earlier, Jesus had wrapped a towel around His waist and knelt before Judas just as He had before Peter and John. Think about that scene again. Jesus wasn't washing anonymous feet. He knew exactly whose feet He was holding in His hands. He knew exactly where those feet would carry Judas before sunrise.
He knew they would walk into the darkness to collect soldiers. He knew they would lead that mob to the garden. He knew they would stand only a few feet away as Judas betrayed Him with a kiss. Yet none of that stopped Jesus from stooping down to serve him.
Now, at the table, Jesus extends another act of kindness. He dips the bread and personally places it into Judas' hand. In that culture, this wasn't merely a way of identifying someone. It was an expression of friendship. It was the host extending a special gesture of honor and fellowship to one of his guests. Even in this moment, Jesus isn't pushing Judas away. He's extending one final appeal of grace.
I can't help but read this and ask myself, "What kind of Savior is this?"
Because this isn't how our hearts naturally work.
If I knew someone was about to betray me, my instinct would be to distance myself. I'd expose them before they had the opportunity to hurt me. I'd protect myself. I'd probably make sure everyone else in the room knew exactly who they were.
But Jesus isn't acting according to fallen human instincts. He's revealing the very heart of God.
Everything Jesus does in this room reminds us that He did not come into the world merely to love people who loved Him back. He came to love sinners.
Isn't that exactly what Paul tells us in Romans 5? "God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Notice the timing of God's love. Christ didn't wait until we became lovable. He didn't wait until we got our lives cleaned up. He didn't wait until we finally became faithful enough to deserve His mercy. While we were still rebels...while we were still running from Him...while we were still enemies...Christ loved us.
That's exactly what we're watching unfold around this table.
Every act of kindness Jesus extends toward Judas exposes the incredible patience of God toward undeserving sinners.
Sadly, Judas receives every act of grace without ever embracing the Savior extending it.
John then tells us....
27 Then after he had taken the morsel, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.”
We need to understand that carefully because John has already explained that Satan had put betrayal into Judas' heart before this evening ever began. This wasn't a good man suddenly overtaken against his will. Judas had been hardening his own heart for a long time.
He had listened to the teaching of Christ while refusing to submit to Christ. He had watched miracle after miracle while continuing to love money more than his Master. The tragedy of Judas isn't that he lacked evidence. The tragedy is that he continually resisted the grace that stood right in front of him.
Church, I think that's one of the most sobering warnings in this entire Gospel.
It is possible to spend years around the things of God without ever belonging to God.
Judas heard every sermon Jesus preached. He witnessed every miracle. He watched blind eyes opened and dead people raised. He traveled with the other disciples. He participated in ministry. If someone had visited the disciples during those three years, they would've seen twelve men following Jesus. From the outside, Judas looked exactly like everyone else.
But proximity to Jesus is not the same thing as faith in Jesus.
Coming to church doesn't save anyone.
Knowing Bible stories doesn't save anyone.
Growing up in a Christian home doesn't save anyone.
Serving in ministry doesn't save anyone. The bible says...
9 because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.
Fun fact, look how each disciple asks this question of betrayal in Matthew’s account.
22 And they were very sorrowful and began to say to him one after another, “Is it I, Lord?”
Then look how Judas asks the same question.
25 Judas, who would betray him, answered, “Is it I, Rabbi?” He said to him, “You have said so.”
You can spend your whole life near Jesus and never submit to His Lordship.
Only Christ saves.
Only the grace of God can take a heart of stone and make it alive.
And that's why this passage is both heartbreaking and hopeful at the same time. It's heartbreaking because we watch a man reject unbelievable grace while sitting only inches away from the Son of God. But it's hopeful because we see a Savior whose love continues reaching toward sinners right up until the very moment they finally reject Him.
Let’s look at the last few verses.
28 Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. 29 Some thought that, because Judas had the moneybag, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the feast,” or that he should give something to the poor. 30 So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.
John closes this section with a sentence that almost seems too simple to matter. He tells us, "So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night."
At first, that sounds like nothing more than John telling us the time of day. Of course it was night. They're gathered for the Passover meal. We already know that. But if we've learned anything from John's Gospel, it's that John rarely includes unnecessary details. Throughout this book, darkness has always represented something far greater than the absence of sunlight.
From the opening chapter, John has been painting a picture of two kingdoms. There is the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness. There are those who come to the Light because they love the truth, and there are those who run from the Light because they love their sin.
Let’s look back at this.
4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Then in...
19 And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. 20 For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. 21 But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.”
Then again in...
12 Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
And also in...
35 So Jesus said to them, “The light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. 36 While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light.” When Jesus had said these things, he departed and hid himself from them.
So when John tells us that Judas walked out into the night, I don't believe he's simply describing the sky over Jerusalem. He's describing the condition of Judas' heart.
The tragedy isn't simply that Judas left the room. The tragedy is that he walked away from the Light of the World in the flesh.
Think about how heartbreaking that really is. Like I just mentioned, Judas had spent three years closer to Jesus than almost anyone else on earth. He had listened to every sermon. He had watched blind eyes opened and dead people raised.
He had seen storms calmed by a single command. He had witnessed compassion unlike anything the world had ever known. He had been loved by Jesus, served by Jesus, taught by Jesus, and warned by Jesus. Yet after all of that, he still chose darkness over Christ.
Church, if that doesn't humble us, I don't know what will.
It's easy to read this passage and shake our heads at Judas, but I don't think that's what John wants us to do. In fact, I think if we spend the whole sermon staring at Judas, we'll completely miss the point. John isn't asking us to marvel at the darkness of one man's heart nearly as much as he's asking us to marvel at the beauty of the Savior sitting across the table from him.
So don't stop at Judas.
Look at Jesus.
Look at the Savior who knew exactly what Judas had already decided to do and still washed his feet.
Look at the Savior who knew the betrayal was only hours away and still extended the bread of friendship.
Look at the Savior who wasn't surprised, wasn't rattled, wasn't overcome by evil, because everything unfolding in that room was moving exactly according to the sovereign plan of God.
The darkness never threatened the Light.
The Light willingly stepped into the darkness so He could overcome it.
As I continued studying this passage this week, I found myself thinking back to something Jesus had already said earlier in the chapter. When Peter objected to having his feet washed, Jesus told him, "The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you."
Now this scene begins to make even more sense.
Jesus wasn't talking about dirty feet.
He was talking about dirty hearts.
When He said, "You are clean," He wasn't saying the disciples had become morally perfect. In fact, if there's one thing the rest of the evening is going to prove, it's exactly the opposite.
Peter is sitting at this table.
Before morning comes, Peter will stand around another fire and deny three different times that he even knows Jesus.
Thomas is sitting at this table.
After the resurrection, Thomas will struggle to believe until he sees the scars with his own eyes.
The rest of the disciples are sitting around this table too.
Before the night is over, every one of them will run.
Every one of them will fail.
Every one of them will abandon Jesus in His darkest hour.
Suddenly the picture changes, doesn't it?
This isn't one sinner sitting among eleven saints.
It's twelve broken sinners sitting around one perfect Savior.
That's important because sometimes we accidentally read this passage as though the difference between Judas and the other disciples was that Judas was a really bad sinner while the others were basically good men who occasionally made mistakes.
That isn't John's point at all.
The difference isn't that Peter sinned less than Judas.
The difference isn't that Thomas doubted less than Judas.
The difference isn't that the other disciples were somehow cleaner people.
The difference is that Judas remained in his unbelief, while the others had submitted to His Lordship and had been made clean by Christ.
Church, that's the Gospel.
Our standing before God has never rested upon the quality of our performance. If it did, Peter would be hopeless. Thomas would be hopeless. Every disciple around that table would be hopeless. If acceptance before God depended upon flawless obedience, every one of us would stand condemned.
But that's not what Jesus says.
He looks at these men knowing every failure that still lies ahead of them, and He declares them clean.
How can He do that?
Because Jesus isn't looking merely at what they are in themselves. He's looking at what He has come to accomplish for them.
Only a few hours from now, Jesus will walk out of this upper room and toward Calvary. There, the only perfectly clean One will be treated as though He were filthy with our sin, so that filthy sinners might be declared clean in the sight of a holy God.
Isn't that exactly what Paul celebrates in 2 Corinthians 5:21?
21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
Don't rush past those words.
Jesus never became sinful.
He remained perfectly holy.
Yet on the cross He was treated as though He had committed every sin His people would ever commit. At the same time, everyone who belongs to Him is treated as though they had lived His perfectly righteous life.
That's the great exchange.
Our guilt placed upon Christ.
His righteousness credited to us.
Church, that means when the Father looks upon His children today, He doesn't see us through the record of our failures. He sees us clothed in the perfect righteousness of His Son.
That doesn't mean Christians stop struggling with sin. Though he does continually change us and sanctify us.
Peter still struggled.
Thomas still struggled.
John still struggled.
You and I still struggle.
The bible describes that change like this...
18 And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.
It makes me think of a miter saw on a jobsite. Every degree you adjust the saw is measured along an arc. Out near the edge of the blade, one degree looks like a pretty big movement because it's farther from the pivot point. But if you trace that same one-degree adjustment back toward the pivot, the gap becomes almost nothing.
That's a beautiful picture of the Christian life. Paul says we're being transformed "from one degree of glory to another." Sometimes we get discouraged because one degree doesn't seem like much. But the closer we stay to the Pivot Point—which is Jesus Christ—the more those small, faithful steps begin to shape our lives.
Sanctification usually isn't giant leaps; it's thousands of small movements as we remain close to Christ, and over time those little degrees produce a completely different direction.
The Christian life isn't the absence of failure.
It's the presence of a faithful Savior.
Sometimes we talk about salvation as though Jesus simply gave us a second chance. The Gospel is so much better than that. If all Jesus gave me was another opportunity to earn God's favor, I'd ruin it before lunchtime.
No, Jesus didn't come to give us another chance. He came to give us another standing.
He lived the life I never could. He died the death I deserved. He rose again so that everyone who trusts Him could stand before God completely accepted—not because we've become perfect, but because Christ was perfect in our place.
I love another detail that the other Gospel writers include in this account. When Jesus says that one of them will betray Him, the disciples don't immediately begin accusing one another. Instead, one by one they begin asking, "Is it I, Lord?"
I've always found that remarkable.
Why didn't anyone immediately point at Judas?
Why didn't Peter say, "I knew it was him"?
I think it's because walking with Jesus had already taught these men something about themselves.
The closer they came to Christ, the more aware they became of the weakness of their own hearts.
Isn't that what maturity looks like?
Immature believers tend to have great confidence in themselves.
Mature believers have great confidence in Christ.
The longer we walk with Jesus, the more we realize that apart from His grace we are capable of every kind of sin. That realization doesn't make us despair. It makes us cling even tighter to our Savior because we know our hope has never rested in our ability to hold onto Him. Our hope rests in His promise to hold onto us.
Church, that's why I don't want you leaving here this morning asking whether you're more like Peter or more like Judas.
I want you leaving here looking at Jesus.
Look at the One who loved His own to the very end.
Look at the One who washed dirty feet.
Look at the One who offered grace even to His betrayer.
Look at the One who walked willingly toward the cross, not because nails forced Him there, but because love led Him there.
And look at the One who now offers complete cleansing to every sinner who will come to Him by faith.
Maybe you walked in this morning painfully aware of your failures. Maybe you're carrying shame over sins no one else in this room knows about. Maybe you've spent years trying to make yourself clean enough for God to finally accept you.
Hear the good news of the Gospel.
Jesus never told sinners to clean themselves before coming to Him.
He came because they couldn't.
The perfectly clean Son of God stepped into our filth, bore our guilt, carried our condemnation, and rose again so that everyone who trusts in Him can stand before a holy God completely forgiven, completely accepted, and completely clean.
Not because of our righteousness.
Because of His.
Church, don't leave this passage amazed at how dark Judas' heart became.
Leave amazed that the Light of the World loved sinners like us enough to walk straight into that darkness, all the way to a Roman cross, so that we might forever walk in His marvelous light.
That's our Savior.
That's our hope.
And that's the Gospel.
Amen.
