For those of you who imagine Jesus as only ever gentle, soft-spoken, and infinitely tolerant, His words about Judas might come as a shock.

“It would have been better for that man if he had not been born”

Matthew 26:24

Think about that. Chew on it real slow. Here was the Son of God, not mincing words, telling us that Judas’s path was so tragic, so bent, that non-existence would have been a mercy. Judas chose a road with consequences so bleak that Jesus—yes, Jesus—says his very existence is a curse. Jesus is reminding us, with all the authority and clarity of heaven, just how high the stakes are.

The story of Judas isn’t some unfortunate footnote tucked away in the Gospels. It’s a big, blinking billboard with lights, bells, and whistles, yelling, “Danger ahead!” for anyone cozying up to the idea that proximity to holiness is somehow the same as holiness itself. Judas ate with Jesus, traveled with Him, even held the treasury bag, and still wound up selling out the Lord of glory for pocket change. Here we have the ultimate cautionary tale of what it means to be “almost” a Christian—a tragic reminder that you can walk in the company of Christ Himself and still miss the mark entirely. The Puritan, John Flavel once said, “To be almost saved is to be altogether lost; there is no middle way between life and death, salvation and damnation.”¹ Judas, then, stands as the chilling embodiment of that truth, the “Christian” that never was.

Now, don’t mistake Judas for a fool. He wasn’t stumbling over every rock like Peter, or blundering around with misplaced zeal like James and John. No, Judas was the steady one, the practical one. While others might have been swept up in the excitement, Judas kept his eyes on the ground. When Jesus was anointed with expensive perfume, it was Judas who pointed out the apparent waste: “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” (John 12:5). Now, John quickly reminds us that Judas said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief. But to everyone else, Judas’s words probably sounded sensible, responsible—almost righteous. Judas, the man who looked the part.

And there’s the heart of the warning. It’s easy to look like a Christian, to sound like a Christian, to walk among Christians—and still miss Christ entirely. Judas is the reminder that you can walk in step with the Saviour and yet remain utterly blind to salvation. The tragedy of Judas is that he was so close to the Light and yet chose the darkness.

Let’s consider the devastating sequence of events in Matthew 27: Judas, having betrayed Jesus, now feels the weight of his actions. He returns to the chief priests and elders, tossing back the thirty pieces of silver, and confesses: “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” For a moment, it seems as though Judas might turn back. He feels guilt. He acknowledges his sin. But instead of running to Jesus, he runs to those who paid him for his betrayal, and when they dismiss him with a cold “What is that to us?” he’s left without hope. He throws the silver into the temple, but that hollow act brings no relief. He departs and hangs himself.

This is a remorse that’s tragic, not redemptive. Judas didn’t repent; he despaired. And there’s a profound difference. Repentance turns us toward Christ, reaching for mercy, clinging to grace. But remorse without repentance is a self-centered sorrow, one that has no horizon beyond its own condemnation. Judas felt the weight of his sin, but he didn’t know the hope of forgiveness. And so, he stood at the very edge of mercy and turned away.

The Bible says Judas felt remorse. But remorse, as we see here, is cheap. It can look sincere, even lead to dramatic gestures, but if it doesn’t drive us to the Saviour, it’s just an empty echo. We often make the mistake of thinking that feeling guilty is the same as repentance, that being ashamed of our sin means we’re turning from it. But true repentance doesn’t just grieve; it turns. True repentance isn’t content with self-condemnation; it casts itself upon the mercy of Christ.

Peter & Judas

To drive this home, let’s consider the contrast with Peter. Peter, who was all bluster and loyalty one moment and then denying Jesus the next. Peter stumbled as often as he stood, but his heart clung to Christ. When Peter’s sin caught up with him, he didn’t just weep bitterly; he turned back. He was restored by Jesus Himself and set back on his feet with a commission to “feed my sheep.” Peter’s sorrow drove him to the very Saviour he had denied, and there he found forgiveness.

Judas, however, was left alone with his guilt. He felt the same remorse, perhaps even a deeper despair, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn to Jesus. His sorrow was a worldly sorrow, a despair that led only to death.

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.

2 Corinthians 7:10

Judas had the latter—a sorrow that consumed him, leaving no room for grace. His story should unsettle us because it reveals how easy it is to mistake outward appearances for inward faith. He played the role of disciple well enough to deceive everyone around him, perhaps even himself at times. He carried the money bag, he followed Jesus, he listened to the teachings, he watched the miracles. But despite all this, Judas didn’t love Jesus. He was a stranger in the company of saints, a hypocrite in the presence of holiness. He got close enough to Jesus to be far enough from him.

We, too, can be near to the things of God, immersed in the trappings of faith, and still miss the essence of it. Just because someone looks like a Christian, talks like a Christian, and serves like a Christian doesn’t mean their heart has been transformed. True Christianity is more than outward behaviour; it’s an inward transformation, a heart that is captured by Christ.

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’”

Matthew 7:21-23

You will know them by their fruits

So, what does this mean for us? It means we must examine our own hearts carefully. Are we merely close to Jesus, or are we genuinely connected to Him? Are we relying on our church attendance, our Bible knowledge, our “Christian” behavior—or are we resting in Christ Himself? Judas reminds us that you can go through all the motions and still be lost. The Christian life isn’t about looking the part; it’s about a heart transformed by the grace of God, a heart that clings to Christ.

Good fruits are the unmistakable marks of a heart transformed by God, and they can’t be faked. While one might manage outward actions for a time, true fruits are far deeper than mere good works; they are genuine expressions of the soul, manifesting in speech, conduct, and relationships. They reveal a life anchored in God’s grace, bearing evidence of humility, love, and faith that overflow naturally. Fruits are a window to the heart, reflecting not just deeds but the underlying character and affections. To truly embody these fruits — in a way that can’t be feigned — is to possess a faith rooted in salvation. This is what Judas lacked. Though he was close to Jesus in proximity, his heart was far from Him, devoid of the inner transformation that only God can work. A person might imitate actions, but to consistently and truly express these fruits from within is to have a faith Judas never knew.

Nominal Christianity is a dangerous place to be. Like Judas, a nominal Christian can stand at the very threshold of grace yet fail to enter. The proximity to Christ without the surrender to Him is a tragic illusion. Judas’s life warns us not to be content with just appearing godly. As Paul says in 2 Timothy 3:5, “having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.” We can have all the appearances of faith without the substance of it.

In the end, Judas’s story is a call to genuine repentance, to a godly grief that leads us back to Christ rather than a worldly grief that spirals into despair. He teaches us that the Christian life isn’t about proximity to Jesus, but surrender to Him. Judas had the former; he lacked the latter. And that made all the difference.

Brothers and sisters, as we reflect on Judas’s life, let us ask ourselves: are we like Judas, near to the things of God but far from God Himself? Or are we like Peter, stumbling, failing, but always turning back, clinging to the One who holds us fast? Let us not be content with outward appearances, but seek a heart transformed by the grace and mercy of Christ—a heart that does not merely walk beside the Savior but lives in Him. For, as Jesus Himself said,

“Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing”

John 15:5

1. John Flavel, The Method of Grace, Chapter 3. ↩︎