Loving Judas

Loving Judas

A prophetic grief‑healing piece for those who have loved and been wounded by a Judas (or two...)

There are wounds that do not bleed — they echo.

They echo in the chambers of the heart long after the moment has passed,

long after the door has closed,

long after the kiss has dried on the cheek.

I have known that echo.

I have known the weight of loving a Judas.

Not the villain of the story —

but the friend.

The one who walked beside me.

The one who shared bread with me.

The one whose laughter once felt like home.

The one I trusted with the softest parts of me.

Judas is never a stranger.

Judas is always someone you love.

And when Judas breaks you,

it is not the breaking of bone —

it is the breaking of belonging.

The shattering of the place in you

that believed love was safe.

Betrayal does not always come with thunder.

Sometimes it comes with tenderness.

Sometimes it comes with a familiar voice

speaking unfamiliar words.

Sometimes it comes with a hand

that once held yours in safety

now guiding you toward a place of sorrow.

Judas wounds are quiet wounds.

They slip beneath the armor

because they were never meant to be fought.

They were meant to be trusted.

And that is why they cut so deep.

There is a grief reserved for those

who leave you by their own hand.

Not because you failed them,

but because they failed themselves.

Judas did not betray Jesus

because Jesus was unworthy.

Judas betrayed Jesus

because Judas was unhealed.

And so it is with the ones we love.

Some hearts are too fractured

to hold the weight of loyalty.

Some souls are too divided

to remain in the presence of truth.

Some wounds are too deep

to let love transform them.

Loving Judas means loving someone

who could not stay whole

long enough to stay with you.

There is a strange anointing

in loving someone who will break your heart.

Jesus knew.

He knew the fracture in Judas

long before the kiss.

He knew the shadow

long before the night.

He knew the wound

long before the silver.

And still —

He washed his feet.

He fed him bread.

He called him friend.

To love a Judas

is to carry a piece of Christ’s own sorrow.

It is to feel the weight of divine love

pressed into human frailty.

It is to stand in the tension

between what you see

and what they refuse to become.

It is to love without guarantee.

To give without return.

To hold without being held back.

This is holy ground.

This is costly ground.

This is prophetic ground.

There is a healing that only betrayal can teach.

A healing that does not come

from being spared the wound

but from surviving it.

Loving Judas teaches you:

that your heart can break

and still remain soft,

that your trust can be shattered

and still be rebuilt,

that your love can be wounded

and still be real.

Judas does not get the final word.

The wound does not get the final word.

The grief does not get the final word.

Love does.

The same love that washed Judas’s feet

now washes yours.

The same love that endured the kiss

now tends to your wounds.

The same love that rose again

now rises in you.

Jesus did not chase Judas.

Jesus did not beg Judas.

Jesus did not bind Himself

to someone who chose the night.

He loved him —

and let him go.

There is a holy release

in loving a Judas.

A release that says:

I honor what was real.

I grieve what was lost.

I forgive what was done.

I bless what cannot return.

I walk forward unbroken,

even if I walk forward scarred.

Because scars are not signs of defeat.

They are signs of resurrection.

To love a Judas

is to carry a piece of Christ’s own heart.

To be betrayed by a Judas

is to be invited into Christ’s own healing.

To forgive a Judas

is to rise with Christ’s own power.

And to release a Judas

is to reclaim your own life.

This is my story.

This is my healing.

This is my resurrection.

This is what it means

to love Judas.

-HOLY SPIRIT & RIVER

https://youtu.be/FsF5O_FDtu8?si=9uD0HAkwrsHKDA8e

Personal Note:

"Deep cuts require deep healing.

Deep healing leaves deep scars.

Deep scars remind us of the deep love we held —

and perhaps still hold,

and may always hold.

Deep love is forged in fire.

And though I have been marred.

I have been marked.

I have been made.

Yet the love I carry is the love of Jesus —

a love that has shaped me,

defined me,

and written itself into the very grain of my heart.

If I had not known such great pain,

I would not know such great love.

I never asked for it.

But I needed it.

And He knew.

And all of that came from Loving Judas." -RIVER