I Love a Lot Like Judas
I Love a Lot Like Judas
“I’m going to the store today. Do you need or want anything?” I asked my husband Nathan one morning as he was getting ready to head to the office.
“Could you pick up one of those shower baskets? You know, the ones that hang up in the corner?”
“What’s wrong with the shelves we already have?”
“I have to lean down every time I need to get body wash or shampoo,” he explained. “It’s starting to hurt my back.”
We didn’t design our house, and the shower in the master bathroom is a bit narrow, with built-in shelves that double as a foot rests, standing about a foot and a half off the ground.
“Okay…” I replied, still analyzing his response. “But… even with the hanging basket, you’ll still have to lean down every time you wash your body — it’ll just be for like three seconds less. That doesn’t seem like a significant difference, so it kind of seems like a waste of money. Do you really need it?”
“No, I guess I don’t.” I could sense the dejection in his tone and expression, but I tried my hardest to ignore it.
With reasoning, I’d won the argument. He finished combing his hair, then walked away without another word.
And I felt awful...
I spent the next hour attempting to assuage my feelings of guilt with Bible verses — you know, like any “good Christian” would.
I tried to persuade myself that my response was completely justified with arguments like, “God asks us to be good stewards of the money He’s entrusted us with. I’m just trying to be obedient to Him,” and, “The Proverbs 31 woman was a careful money-manager. I’m just trying to be a good wife. A good husband would appreciate that about his wife.”
(You see how I even managed to turn it around so that he was the one in the wrong for having felt hurt by my behavior, when all I was doing was being “godly”?)
Then I stopped talking, and asked God for His two-cents — you know, the thing real Christians do once we’re done pretending to be better than we are.
And boy, did the Holy Spirit have something to say to me, when I finally sat quiet enough to listen…
“Christina, you asked your husband if he needed or wanted anything. And then, when he expressed a want to you, you turned right around and told him that his wants don’t really matter to you. That’s why he didn’t feel loved or cared for by your response... because it wasn’t loving. You weren’t being a ‘good steward.’ You were being stingy and controlling, and kind of mean.”
I couldn’t deny any of this.
And as the Holy Spirit gently convinced me of what was true about my heart’s motivation, He brought to mind a Bible passage that really did apply to how I’d responded toward my husband…
Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
- John 12:1-8 (NIV)
Left to my own tendencies, I love people a lot like Judas did.
I can be pretty tight-fisted with money when it comes to how others want to spend it. I’m quick to dismiss the expressed needs or wants of other people if they don’t fit within my stringent parameters of what’s “reasonable”; but when it comes to my own perceived needs, I’m far more likely to rationalize spending money whenever I want on whatever I want.
I might convince myself that I’m looking out for the best interests of everyone involved, but in truth, I’m mostly concerned about what’s best for me.
When I love like me, I look an awful lot like Judas. But oh, how I want to love like Jesus!
I kind of hate how Judas’ story ended in real life. Under a guise of false piety, he continued to make a series of self-serving decisions at the expense of others, ultimately betraying Jesus.
And while there was some evidence of repentance on Judas part — a change in how he thought about everything, and even a failed attempt to make it right — ultimately, Judas’ life ended tragically with no do-over and no clear opportunity for redemption.
I’m grateful that we are given, so often, the opportunity to reclaim and redeem our missed opportunities to love others well.
And in my story, I was given just that...
I had the opportunity to repent and to apologize to Nathan, to tell him how wrong I had been for denying his request — especially after I’d explicitly asked him if he wanted anything from the store.
I told him that whether or not his reasoning made sense to me never should have mattered. (And really, I never should have questioned it, in this instance.)
And I confessed that I hadn’t loved him well in the way that I’d responded, and I knew that I’d hurt him, and I was sorry.
Being the tenderhearted, godly man that he is, he was quick to forgive. (Truth be told, he probably forgave me before I even had a change of heart.)
And then, I made my way to the store, heading straight for the bathroom accessories aisle to pick up a hanging shower basket for my husband, my pint of pure nard to be poured out in an offering of love.
Want to read more articles like this one? Subscribe today for free, and you’ll get blog posts and updates sent straight to your inbox, so you’ll never miss a thing!
