Back to the real world, or so it is as I perceive it . . . .

Will the Love continue,
If the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble?
What if I fall?
--Toby McKeehan, from D.C. Talk’s What if I Stumble?

I watched him die yesterday, and I loved him so. I knew that he was the Christ. And the misery that I feel is that I denied him. He told me I would. I thought I would never do such a thing. Oh, how weak I am. What will become of me now? I have denied the Messiah! Can I be redeemed for this? And he called me Peter—a rock. I am made of flesh. He even said that the flesh is weak, even if the spirit is willing. I not rock, I am not spirit, I am only Simon, a corrupted, evil man. Rabboni, I want to take it all back! I want to be on the other side of yesterday. What’s worse is that no one even believed my denial. Why did I even do it. What a coward I am. What good am I to God? At least Judas was open in his betrayal. He acknowledged Jesus. I denied him. My friend, whom I followed for three years. I saw him heal the sick, I ate from bread and fish meant to be one small boy’s lunch that became a hearty meal for thousands. I watched him calm the storms and walk on water. He walked on water. He knew that I would betray him. Oh, how I wish I could have proved him wrong. But what would that have meant. He was never wrong. But I wish he had been, except . . . .Ahhhhh! The frustration of the thoughts. I would wish him just an ordinary man to have him alive again? What kind of man am I? Oh, the guilt, the shame that I feel. And I compound it with these thoughts.
My accent gave me away, and yet I denied my master three times. And now I hide. He is dead. I do not know where to turn, what to do, and what might happen to me. And it will all happen in spite of my denying him. I will endure the wrath of Rome, and the wrath of the Sanhedrin, and nothing I have said will excuse me. Worse yet, I will be punished by God for denying the Christ! And now I cower, and I hide. Rabboni, teacher, friend, messiah! I know who you are. I love you. And yet I deny you—I live in a world without hope. My master is dead! And I betrayed him. I have slapped the face of God with my words! How can I be redeemed? Will I be hated? Will God still use me? I have followed for years. I lack strength, I lack courage, and I am pointless. Oh, my friend, I am so sorry! Please do not say you never knew me. I deserve no such forgiveness, but I plead for it. Oh, my friend. You suffered and I deny that I know you. You taught and I learned from you. Did I not cut the ear off of Malchus when you were being seized? You healed him and I was not charged with any crime. And then to betray you. You loved me and I said I did not know you. Oh, Jesus, I will never again deny you. I will live my life for you. I will tell the world, and never again lack courage. But today I mourn, for I have caused you pain even before I chose to deny you. You knew I would, and you told me. Still I chose to turn my back on you. Today I mourn, for yesterday I hurt my best friend, and I lost him. I mourn the death of my master, my teacher, my friend. And I weep bitter tears for my betrayal.
Oh, Judas, I know your pain. I know the guilt, the shame. You died with your pain, and must live with mine. Judas, I know why you did it. No matter what we know, no matter what our intentions, we will fail. He does not want us to, but he knows we will. Because he knew our choices before we did, we caused him pain before we chose our actions. Oh, but we chose them. We have no one to blame but ourselves. How can two men be so weak? Knowing what we knew, we still caused our master terrible pain. I may as well have scourged him myself. Judas, my friend, I am glad you are spared the rest of this pain. I would not wish it on anyone. He told us we would betray him, and we did. But you could not have thought that this would turn out as it did. I mean, you knew who he was. And yet, there should have been a way for Jesus and the Sanhedrin and even Rome to make this work. Your actions should have brought us all peace. I suppose all men are weak. But we walked with him and followed him and listened to him for years. Are we not held to a higher standard? Jesus said all sins are equal, but are not our sins harder to live with? I know you could not live with yours. I think that I must try to make atonement for mine with the rest of my life. I will live with this shame, in humility and penitence for the rest of my days.
Perhaps your choices were meant to be, but mine . . . what good can come from this pain? After all, Jesus told you to do what you did. You were just following Jesus’ orders. How could you have known that this was to be the outcome? I, on the other hand, was simply informed that I would betray him—three times—and then I chose to do it.
You emptied your soul and hanged yourself. I just feel an oppressive emptiness. And the only person who could ever make me feel better is dead. And he cannot forgive me now for what I have done. Oh, what have I done? To whom can I confess? I have denied my master, and lost two friends in as many days. I do not know where the others are—I cannot face them right now in my shame. But I need the comfort of their misery. They do not know exactly how I feel, and the only people who ever did are dead. But I need them. Here I weep alone, feeling sorry for myself, when they must need me, too. I must find them. How selfish! To think that in their pain, my friends might want a traitor like me. How much have hurt the memory of Jesus—how much have I hindered his ministry? Oh, No!!!!!! I must try to relieve this guilt before it paralyzes me. If I could only sleep and escape this for a while. I wish that I could wake tomorrow and it will all be different.

(I know that history has demonized Judas, but that is unfair, considering . . . .)
--Hooper