People are not always what they appear to be.
A gentle smile, an impressive talent, or eloquent words can make us think we’ve met someone entirely trustworthy. But looks can be deceiving. Only Jesus truly sees the heart. That’s why it’s wise to pay attention to the quiet nudges and subtle warnings from the unseen world, although listening isn’t always easy. This week’s story shows just how costly it can be to ignore them, for then you are bound to face a surprise you had not expected.
False Faith
By J.K. Stenger
As I stepped into the room, the warm glow of the lamp and the low murmur of voices greeted me. I spotted him at once, and he noticed me too. Rising to his feet, he gave me a hearty embrace. His gaze was intense, penetrating; almost as if he could see into parts of me no one else had ever noticed.
It was flattering, yet distant, even a little unsettling, as though he understood parts of me I didn’t even know existed.
A broad smile spread across his bearded face. “I’m honored to meet you,” he said.
The warmth of his greeting eased my reservations, and I smiled back, deciding then and there that he had to be all right.
“Heard a lot about you,” he added, while leaning over in a friendly fashion. “I look forward to the times we’ll spend together.”
“That’s mutual,” I said. And I meant it. They had told me I needed to trust more; to let go of my judgmental tendencies and this felt like the perfect chance to prove I was making progress. I wanted to see the good in him, to trust, although deep inside, a faint doubt still lingered.
I brushed it aside. He was one of the crew, and that was enough.
He knew so much, too. His education was far beyond mine. When he spoke, his reasoning was clear, his words carefully chosen and convincing. He was patient with me, steadying me whenever doubt crept in. In short, I looked up to him, even when some of his words or actions puzzled me. I brushed that aside as well.
At times, his face darkened in a strange, fleeting way that unsettled me. But who was I to question him? After all, I was the rash, uneducated one, who was often too temperamental. So, I forced away my doubts and chose instead to believe that having someone like him by my side was a gift.
Now I know better, yet I can’t fathom how I missed all those warning signs. The errors of the past stand out like jagged rocks in a smooth riverbed. Then they were invisible to me, but not now.
I’ve often wondered how he gained such a hold over me. I believe the answer lies in pride. He fed it, bolstered my self-worth, but the pleasure was shallow. In truth, it isolated me, leaving me alone atop a chilly mountain of my own illusions, staring down into the valley of others’ ignorance. Or so I thought.
I am ashamed to admit it. I should have paused and reflected, spent quiet time with my heart. But I was too preoccupied with my own pursuits to grasp life’s deeper truths.
Then came the shock.
It happened the night we fled after the horrendous arrest. Panic drove us forward, away from the fear that was closing in all around us.
Darkness, deep and stifling crushed the life out of us. As grapes in the winepress, we were squeezed into a pulp to transform us into cheap wine.
And so, we ran.
I was ahead. That’s when I saw it: a black mass dangling from an overhanging branch.
Panic surged through me. Surely it was a soldier, perched in the tree, ready to strike.
“Soldiers! Watch out!” I yelled, and the others crashed into me.
But no soldiers came. No one grabbed us and no sword pierced our side. There was only the swaying bundle of darkness, suspended in the wind.
“W-What is it?” One of the others said.
I didn’t know and cautiously approached. Then recognition struck me like a hammer.
There he was.
My friend.
Dead.
The one I had looked up to, the one who had smiled so confidently, who had shared his wisdom so freely. The warning signs I had ignored. In shame, he took his own life. He was never a friend. He was the betrayer.
And his name?
They called him … Judas.
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