We Are Like Judas

By Matt Cobb

We are more like Judas than we want to admit

My wife and I recently re-watched the show, The Chosen, and we ended up having a very interesting take on one of the more infamous characters in the show/story.

Kayt said to me more than once: “I just have a soft spot for Judas…”

As you can imagine, my immediate response was “Girl, bye.”

But we kept talking, kept chipping away, and eventually, she got me to see some things about Judas that I had not seen before. So full credit for this post goes to her and the way her beautiful mind operates in grace, love, and compassion.

The villain we distance ourselves from

Few names in history are as synonymous with betrayal as Judas.

Judas, betrayer of Jesus. Marcus Brutus, betrayer of Caesar. Benedict Arnold, betrayer of America.

I mean, the names themselves became the label for treachery. When you’re dealing with that type of betrayal, that’s something you want to distance yourself from. But the truth is, Judas isn’t the only disciple who ran from Jesus. In fact, they all did at one point or another. You don’t get the nickname “Doubting Thomas” for no reason.

As we look at the life of Judas, or at least the best we can between Scripture and historical evidence, let’s start at the beginning.

Judas was called

Judas was a part of the original 12 Disciples. Luke 6:12-16 describes when Jesus called his disciples:

“In those days he went out to the mountain to pray, and all night he continued in prayer to God. And when day came, he called his disciples and chose from them twelve, whom he named apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and Andrew his brother, and James and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James the son of Alphaeus, and Simon who was called the Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.”

With the help of hindsight, we can already see the downfall of Judas noted in his introduction. But at this point in the story, he was not an outsider. Not a betrayer. He was one of the twelve. He was trusted. Included. Chosen.

The most chilling part of Judas’ story isn’t that he betrayed Jesus; it’s that he followed Him in the first place.

Unfulfilled Expectations

Many first-century Jews anticipated a Messiah who would be their political liberator. While under Roman occupation, they longed for a king like David. They expected this king to have a strong army at his disposal. They expected him to overthrow Rome and to restore Israel to its previous glory.

Many of Jesus’ disciples likely had similar expectations, including Judas, and while we cannot relate to Judas in that he was called as one of the twelve, now we can start to see the similarities.

Maybe you’re expecting God to do amazing things. Heal sickness, deliver someone (or yourself) from addiction. Maybe you have questions. Why is the world constantly at war? Maybe you know that it’s because the world is full of sinful people, but you still wonder why God can’t just fix it?

And if we’re honest, these questions don’t just stay questions. They slowly become expectations, and when those expectations aren’t met, something in us starts to shift. We don’t usually notice it at first, but that’s where things start to go sideways.

When God doesn’t do things our way

There’s a moment in the Gospels that gives us a glimpse into Judas’ heart.

In John 12, a woman pours expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet. It’s an extravagant and over-the-top act. The kind that doesn’t make financial sense. Judas speaks up. He questions it. He pushes back. He calls it wasteful.

Scripture gives us a little commentary on this exchange that feels like a gut punch. It says that Judas didn’t say this because he cared about the poor, but because he was helping himself to the money bag.

Now, that tells us something important: there was sin in Judas’ heart long before the betrayal. But it also shows us something else: Judas was watching as Jesus did not fulfill his expectations. Instead of building a kingdom to rule, Jesus was receiving worship. Instead of taking ground, He was talking about sacrifice. Instead of rising up, He kept pointing toward suffering.

That had to be confusing for Judas, even frustrating.

And here’s where it gets uncomfortable: we do the same thing in a lot of areas. I’m guilty of it, watching my son play ball. When he misses a grounder or swings and misses, I get frustrated. Even though he’s 5. I question whether he even wants to play. (If you’ve ever met him, you know he does)

We follow God the same way: as long as things make sense to us, and as long as the story is heading in the direction we think it should go, we are content.

But when it doesn’t…we start reaching for control.

Taking matters into our own hands

In Matthew 26, Judas agrees to betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. It’s easy to reduce that moment to greed, and maybe greed played a part, but some scholars have suggested that it’s something deeper; that Judas may have been trying to force Jesus’ hand. That by putting Him in a corner, Jesus would finally reveal His power and establish the kingdom that everyone had been waiting for. If that’s even partially true, it changes the way we see the moment. Because now it’s not just betrayal. It’s control.

It’s “If You won’t do it Your way, I’ll make it happen my way.”

And again, that hits closer to home than we’d like to admit. We may not sell Jesus for silver, but we absolutely try to take control of outcomes. We manipulate situations. We rush decisions. We try to “help God out” when His timing feels too slow.

Instead of trusting, we step in. Instead of surrendering, we steer.

The tragedy isn’t just the betrayal

After everything happens, Judas realizes what he’s done. Matthew 27 tells us he was filled with remorse. He even returns the money and admits,

“I have sinned, for I have betrayed innocent blood.”

That matters. Judas wasn’t clueless. He wasn’t cold. He knew. He felt the weight of it.

But here’s where the story takes its darkest turn. Instead of running back to Jesus, Judas runs into isolation and despair. And that’s the real tragedy. Because there was another disciple who failed Jesus in a massive, public way. Peter denied even knowing Jesus. Not once, but three times. Same night, same pressure. Same fear.

But Peter’s story doesn’t end there. Peter runs back, and Judas doesn’t. One chose repentance. The other chose despair.

As Jason Carr said in a recent sermon:

“What remains hidden in you can be forgiven. Don’t give up. The antidote to our weakness is not more passion. Our antidote is to surrender to God’s spirit. Our passion will fail us, and our weakness will eventually be exposed. Through surrender, we are transformed. Don’t give up. Watch and pray. That’s how we battle.”

The warning for us

Judas walked with Jesus. He heard the teachings. He saw the miracles. He was there for all of it. And still…he missed it. Not because he was too far away, but because his expectations were louder than his trust.

That’s the warning. Not that we would become villains in a story, but that we would slowly drift. That we would follow Jesus as long as He fits our version of the plan. That when life doesn’t unfold the way we hoped, we would start taking control instead of trusting the One who sees the full picture.

Scripture reminds us in Proverbs 3:5 to trust in the Lord with all our heart and to lean not on our own understanding. That sounds simple enough, until life stops making sense.

You may never betray Jesus with a kiss. You may never exchange Him for thirty pieces of silver. But every time we choose our way over His, every time we try to force what only God can fulfill, every time we let unmet expectations turn into control, we step onto a road that looks more familiar than we’d like to admit.

The good news? Judas’ story is a warning, but Peter’s story is an invitation.

At the end of John 21, Jesus reconciled with Peter, asking three times if Peter loved Him. This is after Peter’s three denials.

Peter’s story is an invitation to not control the mission or the outcome, but to tend to Jesus’ sheep. An invitation that no matter how far you’ve drifted, the door back to Him is still open.

So, the question is simple: when you realize you’ve been trying to take control, will you run away in shame? Or will you run back to Jesus?