Practical Proverbial, from 1 Peter, 9 April 2020, Maundy Thursday

In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials1 Peter 1:6 (NIV).

Consider these words from the Apostle Peter in light of today being Maundy Thursday.   They were first written by a man who was THERE that first one.  Consider things from his perspective.

You’re Peter and it’s Thursday morning in Jerusalem, somewhere around AD 33 (though nobody knows it’s AD 33 because the calendar we use won’t come into existence for another 1550 years).   Maybe you and Jesus hung out yesterday; maybe you just had a day with your family; nobody knows what happened that Wednesday of Holy Week.  Maybe you had a day of rest because you’re going to need it.   You don’t know it but the most important few days of your life – of all history – are about to take place right in front of you.

Because now it’s Thursday in AD 33 Jerusalem and it’s been a strange week in the old city.   There was a long, meandering walk the last few weeks and Jesus has been teaching some pretty hefty material, some moving but radical things about forgiveness and death and the end of the world.   On Sunday, you arrived in the city and it seemed like the whole city was heralding the arrival of a new king.   On Monday, you and Jesus were in the temple and he was TICKED OFF, turning over tables and cleaning out all the trash who had corrupted it.   The other night, you were with Jesus at dinner when one of the women came in and broke an expensive jar of perfume over Jesus’ head and He was talking about how she was preparing Him for burial.   In fact, when you think about it, Jesus has been talking a LOT about dying.   It’s a lot to absorb.

Now it’s Thursday and Jesus told you and John to go find a certain place and make preparations to eat the Passover meal there.  Once again, you see how Jesus uses His God-given way to know exactly what is going to happen.   He gives you instructions to go find a particular man who will have a room ready for you and the other eleven disciples and Jesus to have the meal.   During that meal, Jesus takes the ancient rite and does something completely new with it.   Afterwards, you all make your way out to a garden outside of the city…except Iscariot.   Where did he go?   What’s going on?

All you know is that it’s strange, and you feel you’re on the verge of something big.   That something bigger than you is happening around you.   And that’s all very true.   And mysterious.  Rejoice in it, because there has been and will be more suffering, yet the Lord has much bigger, better things in store.

For further reading: Romans 5:2, 1 Peter 1:7

Lord, let me contemplate today the beginnings of Your passion and all that happens next.

Practical Proverbial, from Hebrews, 13 April 2017, Maundy Thursday

Otherwise, would they not have stopped being offered? For the worshipers would have been cleansed once for all, and would no longer have felt guilty for their sins. But those sacrifices are an annual reminder of sins. It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.  Hebrews 10, verses 2-4.

Today is Maundy Thursday 2017.   Today is the reason why animal sacrifices became unnecessary.  Today we commemorate God giving Himself up so that they would no longer be necessary.   That sacrifice we commemorate tomorrow, on Good Friday. But for now, today is a sad day of celebratory mourning, a time when we remember Jesus instituting the miracle of communion and forgiveness while facing the spiritual torment of Gethsemene, then Golgotha tomorrow.

As part of my own remembrance, yesterday I watched “The Passion of the Christ.”   I try to do this every year during Holy Week because it keeps my faith edgy.   The movie is so graphic and rightfully so since it portrays the most graphic murder ever perpetrated on a man.  I kept it on the TV in my office while I worked, and glanced over at it throughout the afternoon.  The more I watch the movie, though, the more I reach the same conclusion.

I feel sorry for Judas.

I’ve written this before but I feel sorry for Judas Iscariot.   He brought his woes on himself.   Nobody forced Him to betray the Son of Man but Judas did it willingly, even enthusiastically.  I know:  he was a greedy, selfish, sinful, detestable bastard.   Conniving, evil, deceitful; sounds like many of my friends and fellow sinners, actually.  No, I’m not equivocating because I’ve never sold out the Son of God for 30 pieces of silver.   My sins are my own and they have denied Jesus as surely as did Judas, Peter, or any of His other best friends who abandoned Him in His most desperate hours.

Yet I feel sorry for Judas because he is pathetic.

When Judas absorbed the guilt of his sins, he forgot all about Jesus.   Maybe it was that he couldn’t bring himself to even think about Jesus or what he had done to his friend and savior.   Perhaps the guilt was too crushing and he simply gave in to the worst temptation.   It’s possible that Judas didn’t understand the new covenant that Jesus had just explained to him in that Passover supper that first Maundy Thursday evening.  Or how it would supersede those sacrifices that dated back to the days of Noah or before.

Whatever happened, Judas snapped and killed himself.   He was cold and dead before Jesus was even nailed to the cross that Good Friday.  I feel sorry for him, have pity on him, and I honestly hope something in him turned back before the life snuffed out of his body.   It isn’t up to me, but I hope there’s a place in heaven for Judas.   If there isn’t a place for people who do things as supremely reprehensible as what Judas did, then there isn’t a place for any of us.   The key is belief.   Judas lost his belief, his faith, in Jesus if he ever really had it in the first place.

He lived in a time when people still fully believed that animal sacrifices atoned for human sins.   The whole purpose of the Jewish temple was to worship Yahweh, the almighty I AM.   Integral to that worship was the Mosaic sacrificial system where doves, lambs, and bulls were slaughtered and brought to the altar.   There was even an annual Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur, which is still commemorated by Jews today) in which the high priest took that animal blood and sprinkled it on the articles in the Most Holy Place.   By the time of Jesus and Judas, the Ark of the Covenant (God’s mercy seat) was long gone from the temple, having disappeared hundreds of years before.   Yet the Temple still contained a Most Holy Place – a Holy of Holies – where worshippers thought God was still present.  Once a year, the priest went into the Most Holy Place and sprinkled animal blood.

And it did nothing.  Yes, I said that.   It did nothing.   Even from the start of sacrifices it was only faith in God that would bring atonement.   Only God could fully atone for man’s sins because imperfect man could not.   The sacrifices were an expression of that faith, not the actual atonement.  Thus, when Jesus died, He and only He fully atoned as a true sacrifice for the terrible sins of His most cherished creation, man.

This was the world in which Judas lived and from which he committed suicide.   Even as a disciple closely walking with the incarnate God for years, he never made the connection between Jesus and sacrifice.  I feel sorry for him.   “The Passion of the Christ” shows him to be mentally anguished up to the end, tortured by demons, tortured by his sins.   The Bible doesn’t insist that people who commit suicide are damned, though it does paint suicide as a sin.   If Judas felt such terrible anguish that he couldn’t go on, I sincerely hope that, in his final seconds here, he found comfort in repentance and a place in paradise beyond.   That isn’t up to us:  it’s up to God.   Someday, hopefully many years from now, we’ll learn what happened.

For further reading:  Hebrews 9:9.

Lord, I praise You in mourning and celebration for the sacrifice You gave of Yourself.   Have mercy on Judas and others, and .

Practical Proverbial, from Mark, 22 February 2016

Just as he was speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared. With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. Mark 14, verses 43-45.

There are a few ways to look at Judas.   You could look at him as one cold fish.   That makes sense because it would take a really cold soul for someone to kiss you and betray you, knowing you’re going to face some kind of persecution.   You could look at him in pity, wondering if his voice didn’t crack when he said “rabbi” (meaning ‘teacher’) to Jesus.   You could think of him as someone naïve, swept up in something bigger than himself, as if there was some unfulfilled part of him that had looked for Jesus do say or do something that didn’t happen.

When you boil it down, does it really matter how we view Judas? We’re no better. Judas spent years learning from and praising Jesus, then at the very last of his life, using his words and actions to send Jesus to His death.   Don’t we do the same?

No matter how we view Judas, one lesson we could draw from today’s verses is irony. As I mentioned, Judas was one of Jesus’ closest friends.   He was a man who gave up everything to follow Jesus, then somehow saw the real cost of following Him as too high to pay. For whatever reason, Judas sold out Jesus, then found out that it was actually he himself who was sold out. How ironic.

Then there is the fact that Judas wasn’t actually in the garden of Gethsemene with the other apostles all night.   When Jesus told Peter that he would betray Him, Judas wasn’t around.   It turns out that Judas Iscariot, whom we think of as Christ’s betrayer, wasn’t actually first at all.   Sure, we could debate this, but I suspect that debate would lead us to this point, namely that, as participants in eternity, we all originally betrayed Jesus with our sins…just like Peter and Judas. How ironic indeed.

Finally, consider the irony of those ways in which we might view Judas.   You could look at Judas and think you’re simply looking in the mirror.   Awhile back, I mentioned that I felt sorry for him, and I do.   Judas let sin take control and it took him to dark places from which he couldn’t recover; I’ve done that. He did sorrowful things that left him pathetic and abandoned. Don’t we each sometimes feel abandoned?   If our Savior was willing to die for us and everyone who lived thousands of years before we were even born, aren’t we also original sinners? The betraying sins of Adam and Eve might be just as timely today for us, in the one-second-here-and-now of our lives, as anything we have ever done.   In that light, when I look in the mirror, Judas Iscariot stares back at me.

Much to think about indeed.

Lord and Savior, I pray forgive me for my sins and my betrayals of You.

Read Mark 14, verses 43-52.

Practical Proverbial, from Mark, 4 February 2016

When evening came, Jesus arrived with the Twelve. While they were reclining at the table eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.” They were saddened, and one by one they said to him, “Surely you don’t mean me?” “It is one of the Twelve,” he replied, “one who dips bread into the bowl with me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.” Mark 14, verses 17-21.

“Every weld is different.”   My son told me that just yesterday.   He attends a small college in Sherman, TX where he’s learning to be a welder. We were talking about his classwork and he remarked that every weld is unique; like fingerprints, no two are the same.   The best a welder can do is to be able to say “that’s a good weld,” then go on to the next one.


Really, it truly was a profound statement and I’m proud to be the dad to a son who connects those particular dots (and pieces of metal). Re-read his quote, then consider it in the context of today’s verses.

We’re all different; God made each of us individually and “very good” in His perfect eyes.   Each of us has things that are unique and can serve God’s purposes. Even those who are disabled, dying, downtrodden, no-damn-good-dirty-dog-sinners, and, yes, even politicians have unique abilities and talents that are just as valuable as those of the beautiful people and sanctimonious churchgoers who assume they have it all together. Everything we have is a gift from God, and Jesus as God gives to each of us beautifully.

Even to Judas Iscariot.

It wasn’t that Judas’ gift was his place to betray Jesus.   It wasn’t that Judas was pre-ordained to be a sinner, to be the betrayer of Christ.   That simply isn’t true, and an honest study of these verses and others that corroborate and explain them will lead you to the inevitable conclusion that God never creates us to sin.   God didn’t create Judas to betray Jesus, but when Judas did so, God used it for His redemptive plan.   “But if Judas hadn’t betrayed Jesus then who would have?”   Answer:   I don’t know.   Neither do you, or your pastor, or the pope, or Billy Graham, Benny Hinn, or Barack Obama. The only thing we can assume is that God would have found a different way to redeem His people because that’s what He promised to do.

Jesus loved Judas.   Judas had unique abilities, and was a very good weld. Is it any wonder, then, that such a devoted God would mourn the woe that would come to the man He had created as an individual to love but who would send Him to a cross instead?

Every weld is different and God is a master welder. My son taught me that the way you test a weld is to try to break it.   You drop your welded metal onto the floor and if it breaks, then it wasn’t a good weld and you need to re-do it.   At the Last Supper, Jesus dropped Judas on the floor, and Judas broke.   How unfortunate for him that there wasn’t time for a re-do.   How fortunate for us is the same.

Lord, I pray for the soul of Judas Iscariot.   And I thank You for making me individual, and for loving me that way.

Read Mark 14, verses 12-26.