The Judas in All of Us

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Judas. We all know his story. His name is synonymous with traitor. The eternal back-stabber.

For this reason, there have been few children that carry the name Judas. His life serves as the perfect example of what not to do, especially if you are a Christian.

Jesus knew early on that Judas would become the betrayer. Still, He invited him into his inner circle. Judas managed the money for the twelve Apostles; but was a shady businessman, stealing from that same moneybox. His decisions were based on profit margins, never matters of the heart. If it were up to Judas, there would have been a massive public relations campaign, spotlighting all that Jesus had done, asking for funding so that His ministry could continue.

Judas had a front-row seat to the ways of Jesus. He saw the miracles for himself. But more than this, he knew the grace. The love in His eyes. The way He spoke of eternity. And hope.

Still, Judas didn’t buy into it. He never allowed his heart to become a part of the equation; never sensed the fact that even he might one day need a Savior.

Judas was destined to be a part of Jesus’ story. Before what became known as the Last Supper, Judas sought out the Chief Priests, determining the cost for the life of Jesus. From that moment on, the book of Matthew tells us that Judas waited for an opportunity to hand him over (Matthew 26:14 – 15 NIV).

Judas still had to play the part of the adoring apostle. During the Last Supper, Jesus predicted his betrayal, acknowledging that it would be Judas, even saying that it would be better for him not to have been born. Jesus instructs him, “What you are about to do, do quickly” (John 13:27).

Judas leaves to make his mark in history.

A few hours later, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas leads the angry mob to Jesus. He greets him with a kiss, and mocks him even further by calling him Rabbi (Matthew 26:49).

Jesus responds by calling him ‘Friend.’ “Friend, do what you are here to do” (Matthew 26:50).

That’s some kind of friend. The ultimate betrayal.

If the truth were known, Judas could have reconsidered. They still would have gotten Jesus. Judas didn’t have to become the enemy of the story.

After watching the gruesome crucifixion, Judas felt remorse. He even returned the thirty shekels of silver, realizing, finally, that wealth did not bring the happiness nor acceptance that he craved.

His story ends with Judas hanging himself.

If Judas were thinking clearly, he might have remembered how Jesus had predicted his own death. And even more, that He promised to return. He had seen him heal the multitudes. There had been no unforgivable sins.

He could have sought the other apostles, confessed what he had done, begged to be baptized, or prayed to God to seek forgiveness. He could have been the hero to this story, the first one waiting at the tomb to apologize. Like the thief on the cross, he could have been the King of Second Chances.

Instead, he becomes the poster child for what happens after sin. Guilt. Remorse. Darkness. Even death.

I suspect there is a little Judas in all of us. We make bad choices, but instead of grabbing the one hand that can save us, we wrestle with our past, wallow in our remorse, and keep reminding Jesus what we did to Him.

He already knows. And He died anyway. So that we could join Him.

Not Going Anywhere?

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Stuck. Drifting aimlessly. Going nowhere fast. Maybe going nowhere at all. Three steps forward. Two steps back. Or is it four?

And since I am stuck, accomplishing nothing, I take a look around. I no longer recognize my surroundings. How did I get here? And where is ‘here,’ anyway? Is this even the right path? Am I lost? And if so, why am I the last to realize it?

I am supposed to be somewhere. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Accomplishing something. I am sure of it.

But I am here. Stuck. Is it getting darker? What’s that animal noise I hear in the distance? Oh wait, it’s getting closer. I should run. But where? And to whom?

How did this get to be my journey? And why am I having to travel this road, wherever it is, alone?

Stuck. I hate that feeling. Mainly because I might be the one to blame.

By following the same patterns that led me to that place, to this place, I end up with the same results. My current surroundings frighten me, so I go back. Like the Hebrews, yearning for a past where they knew what to expect. But their past required them to be a slave. They overlooked that part in their flight from the unknown.

Perhaps that’s why their journey took 40 years instead of 40 days. Two steps forward. Three steps back. I’m certain that’s not the way God mapped the rescue effort.

They were unwilling participants in their own rescue.

They were stuck. Shame on them. Shame on me.

As it turns out, the Hebrews and I aren’t the only ones who suffer with this problem.

The disciples wandered a bit as well. They doubted. They fought among themselves to be the favorite. They thought like humans, instead of like the spiritual beings Jesus was developing them into.

They bumbled around, like me, the last to figure out what was happening to them.

Bless their hearts.

It is through this bumbling around that we can learn from them. How not to do what they did. Or rather, how to do what they ended up doing. They learned. Eventually.

In John, Chapter 6, the story is told in this way. “Later that evening, the disciples walked down to the sea, boarded a boat and set sail toward Capernaum. Twilight gave way to darkness. Jesus had not yet joined them. Suddenly, the waves rose and a fierce wind began to rock the boat. After rowing three or four miles through the stormy seas, they spotted Jesus approaching the boat walking mysteriously on the deep waters that surrounded them. “I am the One. Don’t be afraid.” Jesus spoke to the disciples.

“They welcomed Jesus aboard their small vessel, and when he stepped into the boat, the next thing they knew, they had reached their destination” (John 6:16-21 The Voice New Testament).

Perhaps they should have invited Jesus into their vessel much earlier in the story. That had to be a long and exhausting three or four miles of boat-rowing.

Maybe that’s what’s missing when we are stuck. Not going anywhere.

We need to welcome Jesus into our vessels much earlier in our journeys.

Or better yet, never leave home without Him.

Advice to My Graduate

By Janet Morris Grimes –

To My Daughter:

As a high-school graduate, I realize you are past these teachable moments, but I wanted to cram in one last life lesson to summarize everything I had hoped to teach you. Consider this the Cliffs Notes Version. Read and repeat as needed.

1. Don’t pick up hitchhikers. Nor should you become one.
2. Starting a new project is much harder than finishing.
3. The guys you think are cute now will be bald within ten years. And most 80-year-olds look the same. Dig deeper.
4. Don’t be jealous of the people who get the most attention. In your twenties, this is called being high-maintenance.
5. Pay attention to your car. If you don’t, you will learn this lesson on the side of a road. Refer to #1.
6. The happiest people on earth are those who do the most for others. Be one of them.
7. Money can’t buy happiness, but it is a blessing in the right hands. I suspect that God is always watching to see who can handle it.
8. God can’t bless a bitter heart. Your job is to keep yours from becoming one. He will do the rest.
9. The people who play it safe never score a home run.
10. Never be your own worst enemy.
11. Allow God to direct your steps with the little things so that you will recognize His voice when it gets to the big ones.
12. Never believe what you see on the news each night. Or on reality television. The truth has usually been edited out completely.
13. A phone call would be appreciated on the day you realize that I knew what I was talking about.
14. God has a plan for your life. And so does Satan. Enough said.
15. Life is a marathon. Keep running in the right direction, even on days you want to give up. There are no shortcuts. The winners are the finishers.
16. Surround yourself with people who help you feel closer to God.
17. Peace is most needed in the midst of chaos, not when things are going well. Hold on to the things that matter.
18. Write out your dreams. Give them permission to come true. They are there for a reason.
19. Find a way to get paid for what you love to do. That is the difference between a job and a career.
20. It is impossible to worship and worry at the same time. So worship. As much as possible.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9 NIV).

The Fatherhood Theme Park

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Father’s Day. It gets me every time.

As a child, it was as if I was standing outside the gates to a theme park. I see all the families entering, hand-in-hand. Their Daddy clutches the tickets, counting to make sure he has enough for everyone. No one goes in alone. The lines are long, but the wait just makes it better once they click through the turnstiles of triumph.

Costumed characters welcome them with waves and hugs, their plastic faces etched with permanent smiles. But the smiles of the kids are even wider. Cameras capture a thousand photo moments before they reach the first ride. Even walking, together, is an adventure inside the theme park.

The scent of something wonderful wafts over me. Maybe it’s cinnamon. Fudge? Or corn dogs? Definitely a mixture of all of them; as if happiness were a smell. Ten different versions of carousel music provides the soundtrack to the day. Their day.

Screams of delight ruffle through the tall trees that hide the fun things they get to do. Just enough of a roller coaster taunts me from above. A train of silver buggies crank their way to the top. They careen down the other side, twisting in ways I didn’t see coming. Terror turns to thrill on their faces. They line up to do it again. Just because they can.

The sun drops behind the trees, bringing a breeze that didn’t exist before. Maybe it will cool off the sunkissed cheeks of those who are now leaving. Strollers are filled with too many shopping bags to hold the children who once belonged there. Instead, their parents carry them, asleep, draped across their shoulders. The leftovers of something sticky and wonderful still dribbling down their smushed up faces. They wear hats, or ears, or both; something they didn’t have when they arrived.

There expressions reveal the most perfect of days. Content. Exhausted .Together. As if whatever they anticipated before entering was even better than expected….

Peering through the bars is no way to experience a theme park. It’s impossible. I would have given anything to get inside. Not for the rides, the characters, or the ice cream. What I longed for, more than anything, was to be that little girl sitting on top of her father’s shoulders.

But you have to have a ticket to get inside. And I never had a ticket.

This is what it feels like to be fatherless. No matter how many times you watch, from a distance, you can’t imagine yourself being allowed to go inside.

But you know you are missing out on something wonderful.

PRAYER: Father God, bless the fathers and the families that You created. Give them strength to shine for You. Mend any broken relationships, and thank You for being such a loving father to each of us. It is because of You that we know how to love unconditionally.

Trending

By Janet Morris Grimes –

I wonder sometimes how I have gotten to be so predictable.

My Gmail account suggests addresses of people, based on past emails I have sent, who might be interested in the note I am writing and usually Gmail is correct.

Facebook recommends friends based on other people I know and love. More often than not, I am thankful for the new connections.

My phone lists my favorite numbers to call. Correctly.

Even my iPod knows which songs I will play to the end. It’s not unusual to hear a pick from that same artist within the next three or four songs.

My dog gets excited when I pull out my tennis shoes. He tracks down his own leash to make sure I remember that he is supposed to go with me.

My past behavior indicates what I will do in the future.

In the electronic world, this phenomenon is known as ‘trending,’ which means ‘to show a tendency toward something.’

I suppose my tendencies are obvious. My trends are often used against me—even when I invest effort into changing them.

Unfortunately, no one knows my past trends better than Satan. He remembers the last time I was lonely, confused, or doubting. He remembers what triggered my last argument. He reminds me of the failures I have tried to forget. He plasters my mistakes all over the walls to keep them in view.

He would love nothing more than to box me into a rut, and surround me with memories of past misery to keep me there as long as possible.

That is just his way. His tendency, if you will. He, like me, has a few trends, and has gotten quite predictable.

But I refuse to participate. To be predictable. Not with him, anyway.

He hates it when I feel free to move forward. He abhors it when I choose to forgive, especially when I have plenty of reasons not to. He cringes when I figure out what works. He detests it when I open my Bible to find answers that will last until eternity. He loathes it when I find ways to keep my heart from becoming bitter. He hates it when I buck the trend and do exactly the opposite of what he expects me to do.

When I resist, he flees. He has no choice. He won’t waste his time on me if I won’t play his game.

Could it be that by learning Satan’s greatest weapon against me, I have also discovered my greatest weapon against him?

I would do well to remember that the battle is over. There is no reason for me to doubt or be afraid. Victory lies with those who refuse to engage in Satan’s meager attempts to distract us.

It was Jesus who proved this to me, over and over again. How is it that I so often forget?

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