The story of Judas is one filled with heartbreak. How often have we wept when we read these words, “Then Satan entered Judas, surnamed Iscariot, who was numbered among the twelve. So he went his way and conferred with the chief priests and captains how he might betray Him to them. And they were glad and agreed to give him money. So he promised and sought opportunity to betray Him to them in the absence of the multitude” (Luke 22:3-6).

Judas heard the Sermon on the Mount with his ears. He saw the blind receive sight, the dead raised, and the storm calmed. He sat beside Jesus at the table, walked miles with Him, and was entrusted with ministry responsibilities. Judas held the money bag for the group, a role that required a measure of trust from the others (John 13:29). But all this proximity to holiness did not protect him from corruption.

In this moment, we find him yielding not to the Lord he walked with but to Satan himself. That’s the sobering truth of Luke 22:3: religious activity, outward association with Christ, and even participation in ministry are not the same as a surrendered heart. Judas walked with Jesus, but he never truly gave Him his loyalty or love. Somewhere along the way, his affection turned to bitterness, and his faith gave way to selfish ambition. The terrifying part is that no one suspected him. When Jesus announced that one of them would betray Him, none of the disciples pointed to Judas (Luke 22:23). This means that betrayal can wear the disguise of religion, and the hardness of the heart can hide behind a smiling face.

Notice how ordinary the betrayal begins: a conversation, a plan, an agreement. Sin often doesn’t roar in; it whispers and rationalizes. Judas agreed to betray Jesus “when no crowd was present,” a secretive act. Sin loves the shadows. From the very beginning, sin has sought cover. When Adam and Eve sinned, the first thing they did was hide (Genesis 3:8). That’s what sin does; it makes us want to conceal rather than confess. It convinces us that secrecy is safety and that as long as no one knows, we’re in control. But that’s a lie. What’s hidden doesn’t heal. What stays in the dark gains power.

This passage calls us to examine our hearts. Are there areas where we’ve grown callous, where motives have drifted from God’s will? Have we allowed disappointment, pride, or greed to take root? Judas didn’t fall in a moment; it was a slow erosion. “Therefore we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away” (Hebrews 2:1).

By: Justin Odom