Betrayal

Now, what I’d like to do is read again Luke 22—not because it wasn’t read well; it was read very well. But I want to read it in a paraphrase. I read all kinds of versions during the week, and every so often, one of them comes across quite helpfully, and this one did.

“‘Do you realize,’” says Jesus,

“that the hand of the one who[’s] betraying me is at this moment on this table? It’s true that the Son of Man is going [to go] down a path already marked out—no surprises there. But for the one who turns him in, turns traitor to the Son of Man, this is doomsday.”

They immediately became suspicious of each other and began quizzing one another, wondering who might be about to do this.

Within minutes they were bickering over who of them would end up the greatest. But Jesus intervened: “Kings like to throw their weight around and people in authority like to give themselves fancy titles. It’s not going to be that way with you. Let the senior among you become like the junior; let the leader act the part of the servant.

“Who would you rather be: the one who eats the dinner or the one who serves the dinner? You’d rather eat and be served, right? But I’ve taken my place among you as the one who serves. And you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. Now I confer on you the royal authority my Father conferred on me so you can eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and be strengthened as you take up responsibilities among the congregations of God’s people.

“Simon, stay on your toes. Satan has tried his best to separate all of you from me, like chaff from wheat. Simon, I’ve prayed for you in particular that you [do] not give in or give [up]. When you[’ve] come through the time of testing, turn to your companions and give them a fresh start.”

Peter said, “Master, I’m ready for anything with you. I’d go to jail for you. I’d die for you!”

Jesus said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Peter, but before the rooster crows you will have three times denied that you know me.”

Then Jesus said, “When I sent you out and told you to travel light, to take only the bare necessities, did you get along all right?”

“Certainly,” they said, “we got along just fine.”

He said, “This is different. Get ready for trouble. Look to what you’ll need; there are difficult times ahead. Pawn your coat and get a sword. What was written in Scripture, ‘He was lumped in with the criminals,’ gets its final meaning in me. Everything written about me is now coming to a conclusion.”

They said, “Look, Master, two swords!”

But he said, “Enough of that; no more sword talk!”[1]

Now let’s ask God to help us as we study:

Father, we are so desperately in need of your help to speak in a way that is true and helpful and doesn’t bring confusion, to listen in a way that is sensitive and humble and introduces us to Jesus. Only you can accomplish this, and to you alone we look in these moments now, as we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

Just think about the hands for a moment. Just the hands. Not the rest of them—their heads or their eyes. Just their hands. Twenty-six hands, passing bread to one another, receiving the cup from one another, running their fingers through their hair, wiping crumbs from their chins—one moment with their hands in their lap, the next moment with their hands upon the table. Just think about hands. Imagine that we’re producing this as a movie, and we’ve determined that we’re going to take it in on a very tight angle, and we’re only going to show hands—the movement of hands. And then, in a voice-over, casually almost, in a passing fashion, we hear Jesus saying, “The hand of the one … betraying me is at [the] moment on this table.”[2]

You can imagine hands immediately slipping back, can’t you? “The hand of the one who is betraying me is … on [the] table.” And if anybody had happened to put their hands in their pockets at that moment, they would be incredibly relieved—everyone immediately looking around, recognizing, “Our hands are everywhere. The hands of all of us are everywhere.” The hand of the betrayer is presently on the table.

That introduces us to the first point that I want to make of five points in the portion of Scripture that was read for us and which I’ve just read again in paraphrase form. If you want to take a note, the word under which I’ve gathered my thoughts is simply the word betrayal. Betrayal. “The hand of the betrayer is on this table.”

Treachery and Patience

Now, as the readers of the Gospel of Luke, we’ve known for some time what the people around the table do not know—at least, the majority of them do not know—namely, that Judas Iscariot is going to betray Jesus. Back in chapter 6, which was a long time ago, we read these words: “When morning came, [Jesus] called his disciples to him and chose twelve of them, whom he also designated apostles.” And then Luke gave to us the list: there was “Simon (whom he named Peter), his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James [the] son of Alphaeus, Simon who was [known as] the Zealot, Judas [the] son of James, and Judas Iscariot”—and then here it comes—“who became a traitor.”[3] So way back in chapter 6, we are led into an advanced part of this unfolding drama: we are made aware of the fact that somewhere along the line of this story, Judas is going to step up and betray the Lord Jesus. In fact, in chapter 22, we have already seen, in verse 4 and following, that the ball has been advanced considerably up the field. Judas has gone to the chief priests, the officers of the temple; he’s discussed with them how he might betray Jesus; they’ve agreed upon a fixed fee for the betrayal; and he is now in the position of watching for an opportunity when he might hand Jesus over to the religious authorities, but at a time when there isn’t a big crowd around.

What a treachery this is, isn’t it? I mean, if someone had come from the outside to do this, it would’ve been bad enough—somebody who perhaps was disappointed with the fact that Jesus, when he’d done his miracles, left them out; maybe one of the fellows who was at the pool when the water stirred and the man got in and he was healed,[4] and this chap didn’t get healed, and it had annoyed him ever since, and he said to himself, “You know, if I get a chance, I’ll betray that Christ. I’ll hand him in.” It would’ve been bad, but not treacherous like this. The psalmist, in an almost prophetic way, says, “Even my close friend, whom I trusted, he who shared my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.”[5] This is somebody who has been in the company of the Lord Jesus routinely—not on a monthly basis but on a daily basis—has enjoyed the privilege of his care, has listened to his instruction, has seen the wonderful, powerful deeds that he has performed. And the betrayer is about to come out of this company.

But the first thing that we ought to note is simply this: when Jesus says what he says in verse 21, “The hand of him who is going to betray me is with mine on the table,” notice the response in verse 23. It doesn’t say, “And all eyes turned to Judas.” They hadn’t a clue! What happened was that they began to bicker with each other, or they began to question among themselves which of them it might be who would do this. Apparently, Judas was adept at disguising what was going on inside. Judas had been able to move around in the company of these men, and for whatever length of time, however limited, since it had occurred to him in his mind, since he had made the shift to give up on Christ, he had managed to disguise it from those who were nearest and dearest to him.

There’s a warning in that, incidentally. There’s a warning in that. It’s very easy for us to hide from one another in a company like this, in a group like this. It’s very easy for us to disguise what’s honestly going on inside of us. We may assume that we know each other very, very well, but in point of fact, who knows the thoughts of a man or a woman except the spirit that is within them?[6]

Now, along with that, isn’t it quite striking that Jesus was prepared to have Judas at this table at all? If we had known what Jesus knew, I wonder if we’d been as gracious. Don’t you think there’s a possibility that we would have taken Judas aside—especially in light of this particular meal—and said to him, “Judas—you’re done now, Judas. I mean, you and I both know what’s going on, and so, if it’s all the same with you, why don’t we just take this meal down to the twelve of us? I don’t think we should have thirteen here anymore. You’re really no longer part of the group, Judas. I know what’s in your mind. Therefore, you’re out.” But apparently not with Jesus. Who knows but that perhaps the kindness of Jesus, the kindness of God, would even, in the last hour, lead this individual to repentance?[7]

The fact that Judas was in the place of friendship, the fact that he was apparently involved in the fellowship, is also a solemn reminder to each one of us—each of us apparently the friends of Jesus, each of us involved in the activities of Jesus. Again, as we’ve studied through the Gospel, we’ve seen that those kind of attempts to identify ourselves with the ongoing pattern of activities is not necessarily tied to a living, personal relationship with Jesus. I’m not going to take you back there, but I’ll identify it for you.

If you go back to Luke chapter 13, you’ll find that the people are coming, and they’re saying, essentially, two things to Jesus: number one, “We attended your talks,” and number two, “We ate lunch with you.”[8] “We attended your talks, and we ate lunch with you.” “We were there, Jesus, when you were giving your instruction. You remember. You saw us in the crowd, didn’t you? And remember, Jesus, when you fed the people, we also were part of that great feeding. We were around for that day, Jesus. We loved it when you did that.” And Jesus says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know you, and I, frankly, don’t know where you’re from.”[9]

What is he saying? He’s saying, “The fact that you liked my talks and you attended my lunch event is no indication that you’re actually truly my followers and genuinely my disciples.” A word of warning in passing: “Oh, we like the sermons,” “We attend the talks,” “We go there,” “We’re part of this,” whatever it is, the real issue is: In the heart of all of that, is there a genuine, living, personal encounter between you and the living God with the Lord Jesus? Or does Jesus look upon us and say, “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t know where you’re from”?

So, here we have it! Jesus says, “The hand of the one who’s going to betray me is on the table with me,” and there is no apparent evidence that’s pointing to the suspect. And so the question that is asked is “Which one of us, then, is the betrayer?” It’s troubling, isn’t it? Because if we could immediately set it aside and say “Aha!” then it would make most of us feel a lot better. But apparently, what’s going on is this: it is suggesting to us that anyone of the people around the table is capable of breaking faith with Jesus. When they look in their own hearts, they don’t say, “Oh, here it is.” They look in their own hearts, and they say, “I wonder: Is it me? Surely it isn’t me!” Is it possible that out of the core group will come the one who betrays Christ? Yes.

Later on, when Luke writes the Acts of the Apostles, this has become a pattern when he describes the departure of Paul from the Ephesian church—the Ephesian elders on the beach in Acts chapter 20—when Paul says to the elders there, “I want you to tend the flock of God that’s in your charge. I want you to watch out for these people, because after my departure, there will arise from among you”—“from among you”—“those who will draw people away after them.”[10] He says, “Your problem is not actually going to be on the outside, in shots that are fired across the ramparts of believing faith. The great risk that you face is on the inside, when there will emerge those who distort the truth and who draw people away after them.”

People often ask, “Well, why are you so concerned about the membership of the church? Why are you so concerned to ask if we believe in the doctrine of the Trinity? I mean, surely all that matters is that you love Jesus and you want to love other people. I mean, those kind of things are theological lumber, aren’t they?” No, not for a moment they’re not! They’re vitally important for the structure of God’s people. The way that the church is constructed depends entirely on our understanding of the gospel and of gospel truth and of the historic underpinnings of the faith. And we want to assume nothing about each other, and we want to watch out for one another. “I tell you, the hand of the one who’s betraying me is on the table.” And they looked around and said, “I hope it’s not me. Surely it’s not me.”

The Sovereign Purpose of God

Now, how does Jesus respond? He responds in one of these puzzlingly enigmatic little statements. Verse 22: “The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed, but woe to that man who betrays him.” “The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed.” What is this? This is the sovereign purpose of God unfolding. “But woe to the man who is going to betray him.” What is that about? Well, it sounds as though the man who betrays him is absolutely responsible for the betrayal, doesn’t it? And is absolutely culpable as the betrayer. But the first part of the verse—he “will go as … has been decreed”—sounds as though this has been something that God has foreordained. And it is!

Everything is according to God’s foreordination. There are absolutely no exceptions to it. Every occurrence lies under his wise and loving control.

So now we’re back at the same question that you get in every question-and-answer session that you’ve ever done in all of your life: How do we manage the juxtaposition between the sovereignty of God and the responsibility of man—especially in this most classic instance? Was Judas responsible for what he did, or was he able to say, “I was programmed to do this; therefore, I’m not responsible”?

Well, some of you are saying, “Frankly, I couldn’t care less.” That’s all right. I understand. Just stay in your seat as long as you can. Some of you are interested enough to consider this with me. And since you’re thinking people, and since I owe it to you, I want to pause here and engage in this theological insight for a moment or two. Some of you will remember this in years to come. You’ll say, “I remember that. I didn’t understand a thing then; I think I’ve got it now.”

In Ephesians chapter 1—not only in Ephesians chapter 1, but let me just give you, as it were, a cornerstone verse from which I want to build what I’m going to say. In Ephesians 1:11, it says, “In him”—that is, in Christ—“we were also chosen, having been predestined”—now, notice this next phrase—“according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will.” All right? Our very being in Christ is “according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will.” So what it says is that God, who created the universe—this is biblical truth—God, who created the universe, is working out absolutely everything according to his eternal plan and counsel.

Now, theologians refer to this as foreordination, or the preordination of God, if you want the terminology. And what it’s saying is this: that God has foreordained whatever, in all of life, ever happens. The tree that falls on the roof, the sparrow that is landing in the gutter, the cat that is run over by the Jeep, the putt that lips the cup and makes you the runner-up rather than the champion—everything is according to God’s foreordination. There are absolutely no exceptions to it. Every occurrence lies under his wise and loving control. Every free moral choice that a man or a woman makes lies underneath the working of the will and purpose of God. Yes, and even the sinful actions of men lie under God’s foreordination. Now, you’re sensible people. You need to go back and read your Bibles and see whether what I’ve just said is what the Bible says concerning everything that happens in the universe.

Given that that is the case, and because it is the case, throughout the development of theology, those who have affirmed this truth have wanted immediately to surround it with three cautionary notes.[11] And these cautionary notes will emerge in the mind of any thinking person—three caveats, all right? I’m not going to go through them all. I’m going to emphasize one, because it is germane to what we’re doing here.

The first caveat is this—that given what we’ve said about God foreordaining whatever comes to pass, the first caveat is: God is not and never can be the author of sin. All right? He is not and cannot be the author of sin. Now, that’s enough to keep you up all night: that God foreordained sin without being the author of sin, without being the one who tempts to sin. That is a black hole down which many theologians have gone, never to be seen again. It was said that when any report got into Ed Meese’s briefcase, it was gone forever. And this notion has gone into the briefcases of many thoughtful people, and they have never emerged from it. But that is the first important caveat: God is not the author of sin.

The second one is that God’s foreordination does not eliminate contingency. That God’s foreordination does not eliminate contingency. That’s why a putt, you see, if we can use golf—or the throw of a dice, but a putt (we’ll use a putt at the moment)—a putt is contingent so far as human observation is concerned. And divine foreordination does not eliminate that fact.

And the third caveat—and it’s the one that I want to highlight—is simply this: that God’s foreordination does not eliminate, does not cancel human freedom. Now, I’ll try and show you in a moment as I wrap this up, and it’ll have to be soon—I guess we won’t have five points this morning—I’ll try and show you why this is so important. But let me quote to you from a theologian. Happens to be Scottish, but I know you won’t hold that against him. Listen, and listen carefully:

God’s fore-ordination does not eliminate human freedom. It does not take away our liberty or absolve us of responsibility for our personal actions. Judas Iscariot betrayed the Lord Jesus Christ; and he betrayed Him by God’s determinate counsel and foreknowledge. In other words, God fore-ordained that Judas would betray Jesus. But God also fore-ordained that Judas would betray Him freely, that he would choose to do it and that he would desire to do it. God’s fore-ordination does not mean that His whole purpose moved in and forced Judas to this particular act, rather God fore-ordained that, without compulsion or coercion, Judas would freely, volitionally, and with all the moral force of his own personality, express himself in betraying the Lord Jesus Christ. …

… In … light of this, it is of paramount importance … to grasp [the] synthesis … between fore-ordination on the one hand and freedom and responsibility on the other. Fore-ordination, says [the Westminster] Confession, does not destroy liberty. In fact it establishes it; and [therefore,] it is … worth … glorying in it. I am free because God fore-ordained my freedom. I[’m] not the plaything of pressure and circumstance, or even of internal and endocrinological factors. I am free. I make my own decisions. I am the cause, the ultimate, answering cause, the responsible cause, of my own decisions.[12]

Now, what are the ramifications of this? There are many. First of all, what it says is that there is a teleological element to the universe—that this is not time plus matter plus chance; that Sartre is dead and finished, and many of his silly ideas with him; that we do not authenticate our existence, in the way that he suggested, in some existential moment pursuing angst, but rather that everything is under the control of a God who created the Continental Divide, who established the mountains, made the streams, had the rivers flow where they flow. And indeed, this is the basis of all scientific thought: the notion of causality, the notion of order, the notion of function. From whence cometh it if it is just simply an amoeba in a slimy pond? No! In other words, you don’t have to go out today and say, “Oh, I wonder what’s going on in the details of the universe.” God has it under his control. Everything is happening according to his eternal counsel and will. What’s going on in the vastness of the universe, the nations warring against one another? Every day, we’re told, “Oh, look at this!” “Dear, look at that!” and so on, as if somehow or another, it is all tenuous. No, it is all under his sovereign control.

But it also means that I can’t play the game with my sin: “Oh, well, the reason I slept with her was because I was supposed to. I was foreordained. The reason I did what I did was because I was foreordained. This is God’s fault! This isn’t my fault!” It’s your fault. It’s my fault. It’s your sin. It’s my sin. It’s the betrayal of Judas, not God operating Judas as if he were some kind of puppet under divine machinery. No, in the foreordination of God, he ordained that Judas would act entirely according to his own responsibility and therefore acting in such a way as to make him entirely culpable.

The foreordination of God and the activity of the devil do not let us off the hook when it comes to our own decision-making.

The same is true, incidentally, in coming to faith in Jesus Christ. And this is an aside, but I make it as it comes to my mind. People say, “Well, you know, it’s all God.” Well, yes, it is all God, but it’s not all God. God does not believe for you. God does not believe for you! You must believe. How does that work? I’m not exactly sure, but I know that both things are true. God authors faith but does not do so in a vacuum, nor does he believe on our behalf but works in such a way that we, exercising our free moral choice, will do what God has foreordained.

No, you see, if this was some little esoteric notion tucked away in the corner of the Bible, it would be one thing. But it isn’t! The very juxtaposition of these things is focused in the death of Jesus—not only in his betrayal but also in his death himself. When Peter preaches on the day of Pentecost, he says to them that God has done this—if I can find it. Yeah: “This man was handed over to you by God’s set purpose and foreknowledge.” This was according to God’s foreordination. “And you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him [on a] cross.”[13]

Why does this matter? Well, look at what we find in the passage. God has factored Judas’s activity into, if you like, the scheme of his redemptive program, the scheme of his redemptive calculus—that in the logarithmic explication of God’s purposes, somehow or another, this works. That’s what the Bible says. God has factored even human sin into this divine unfolding. Secondly, Satan is powerfully influential in the event. Verse 3: Satan had entered into Judas. Thirdly, Judas is still responsible for his own choices. So the foreordination of God and the activity of the devil do not let us off the hook when it comes to our own decision-making.

Go back to the story of Joseph, and read it this afternoon, and think these thoughts along with it. Why did Jacob dote on his son? ’Cause he was a silly dad! He had these teenage boys, and some of them in their early twenties, and they were up and gone and, as it were, out of the house, and God gives him a puppy, you know—gives him this little Joseph. And Joseph’s hanging around with him, and Jacob loves it, and he loves him. And he makes the mistake of displaying his affection for Joseph in a way that no longer is true of his affection displayed for his brothers. Why did he do that? “Oh, he was programmed to do that.” No. Nah, he just did that. He didn’t have to give him the coat. He gave him the multicolored coat. Why? ’Cause he chose to. Whose choice? His choice.

Why did the brothers decide to kill him and eventually sell him into slavery? Because they were bad rascals. Why were they bad rascals? Was it because of their upbringing? Was it ’cause of the sociological context? No, it was because they’re inherently sinful. But exercising their own moral choices, they determined to operate in this way. And when the Ishmaelite traders came down the road, why did they decide to buy Joseph? Because they were programmed? No. Because they were interested in a profit. And they looked at this kid, and they said, “You know, we can make a buck on him when we get to Egypt.” So they said, “Strap him to the back of a camel,” and they took him into Egypt. And why did Pharoah decide to buy this slave, out of all of the slaves in the place? Because he was programmed to? No. He was exercising his own free moral choice. And so he took him home to be his servant and eventually his prime minister.

Now I’m doing the whole story for you; I must let you go. You do the story at home, and where do you finally get? You finally get to the great denouement when the brothers come, and they reveal themselves to Joseph—of course, he knew that it was them before they knew it was him—and he says to them, Eigō eimi, “I am Joseph!”[14] And they cower in fear from him. And remember what he says? “Guys, you intended this for evil, but God intended this for good.[15] Your free moral choices were your free moral choices, but God, in his divine redemptive calculus, was planning from all of eternity to ensure that the people of God would have a supply of food.” And he determined that he would do it without violating any of the freedom that was part and parcel of Jacob, Joseph, and all the brothers, and Pharoah, and the whole Egyptian court. And even in the very death of his Son you see the same thing.

So what do you know? You know this: the fact that God overrules the evil that bad men do in bringing his purpose to pass does not make the men any less evil. Judas acts against his own conscience. He does so freely, and therefore, he remains responsible. He is guilty. He is culpable.

And from that there is much that we can learn, but with this I leave you: Judas is the classic example of the man who believes that he can never sin himself out of the grace of God. Judas is the classic example of the individual who thinks that he can get to the point and decide for himself when he’s going to stop sinning, failing to recognize that sin deceives, that sin hardens, that sin blinds us to the warnings that come our way—that we can sit and listen to the Bible taught at Parkside, or anywhere for that matter, routinely; we can hear the story of God’s amazing love, of the sacrifice of his Son for sinners; we can recognize that when the Bible speaks to the issue of sin, it speaks to us; and yet we say to ourselves, “But you know, I don’t need to deal with this today. I know when I can stop this stuff. I’ll stop when I’m ready, you know.” At what point was it that the shift took place, so that one day Judas would not repent, and the next day Judas could not repent? Because sin hardens. Sin deceives. Sin blinds.

Do you get this? Go home. Think about it. Think about it in relationship to how we do evangelism. Think about it in relationship to how we try and absolve ourselves of guilt. Think about it in relationship to how we do our counseling. Think about it in terms of how we teach science. Think about it. Just go ahead and think.

Father, help us to think. So much Christianity at the moment is mindless, emotional sludge. The very fact that we have to think in these last twenty minutes is an absolute insult to some of us. “What is this about? I came here to feel good. I came here to get a little thought. I came here so that I could just have a happy Memorial Day. And all this dreadful stuff: foreordination, determinism… Oh!” My dear friends, think.

Let us then, Lord Jesus Christ, be transformed by the renewing of our minds.[16] Thank you that this Christian faith is a demanding faith, that it is faith seeking understanding, that the invitation to trust Christ is not an invitation to take your brain and put it under the seat, but it is an invitation to come in childlike trust and admit that we are responsible, we are culpable for turning our backs on God, and then to trust unreservedly in the work of Calvary. Hear our prayers.

And now unto him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, now and forevermore. Amen.

[1] Luke 22:21–38 (MSG).

[2] Luke 22:21 (MSG).

[3] Luke 6:13–16 (NIV 1984).

[4] See John 5:1–9.

[5] Psalm 41:9 (NIV 1984).

[6] See 1 Corinthians 2:11.

[7] See Romans 2:4.

[8] Luke 13:26 (paraphrased).

[9] Luke 13:27 (paraphrased).

[10] Acts 20:28–30 (paraphrased).

[11] The “three cautionary notes” Alistair mentions are all based on Donald Macleod, A Faith to Live By: Understanding Christian Doctrine (Fearn, Great Britain: Christian Focus, 2010), 66–68.

[12] Macleod, 68–70.

[13] Acts 2:23 (NIV 1984).

[14] Genesis 45:3 (NIV 1984).

[15] Genesis 50:20 (paraphrased).

[16] See Romans 12:2.