Friday, August 21, 2009

Letters to Jesus: Judas

There is no way to explain it, except to say that the voices in my head screamed louder for my attention that the small voice in my heart! Today, for the sum total of thirty pieces of silver, I sold my soul to the devil himself! For forty days he tempted you in the desert. He promised you all the kingdoms of the world, did he not? And yet, you turned your back and walked away. But me? Not me, greed and the desire for power and recognition and influence have so dominated my very existence that I would betray even my best friend, my only true friend in the whole world, for an amount of silver that would buy no more than a small parcel of land. My fate has been determined by thirty pieces of silver for all of eternity.
What is wrong with me? What has so flawed my mind that these wretched, screaming voices are able to control my thoughts, my will and my very being. If only I could relive this day. If I could only take back that one act of….of….
O God, my sin is so great, my deeds so wicked, my betrayal so profoundly evil. I know it is useless to even ask for Your forgiveness. If only I could explain it, justify it, but I can’t. There is no excuse for what I have done to Jesus the Christ.
I have heard Your teaching. I know Your words of instruction. Oh, believe me; I have even contemplated following Your example. But it can’t be done! I can’t! I don’t know how. I don’t understand. It is as though my mind is clouded, veiled to the message You preach. There is this fog in my head and coldness in my heart. I am totally unable to comprehend this thing You call grace; the very thing that I have seen you extend to others time after time.
The voices in my head tell me I am nothing. I am not worthy; I will never be good enough. I am bad, I am evil, I am beyond hope or redemption. And, for some reason, it is easier to believe the loud, raucous and shrill voices than to believe anything You have said to me these last three years.
Jesus, I want you to know, for whatever it is worth, that I gave back the 30 pieces of silver. “Blood money” they called it, but I feel no better. I read the loathing and hatred on the Pharisee’s faces, as I did on everyone else’s…except Yours. Jesus, how could you continue to look at me with such love? I am shamed by it.
I must go now…the voices….they are summoning me once again…they are calling me to the precipice…to the abyss…it is time to end it. Thirty pieces of silver was my price. One piece of rope is my destiny.

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