Is it I?

"Truly, truly I say to you--one of you will betray me."

The words must've gone off like a nuclear blast in the midst of the assembly. The moment before all had seemed to be well. The meal was being eaten amidst laughter and conversation, everyone pleased with the reception He'd been given when they had arrived in the Holy City earlier. Shouts of "Hosanna! Hosanna to the Son of David!" still echoed through their collective memory. Each wondered in his own heart if this were, at last, the time they had all been waiting for--if Yeshua, whose very name meant "Salvation", would at last claim the crown that was rightfully His and save His people from the iron grip of Rome and her puppet-rulers.

Sure, He'd spoken openly about His own suffering and death...but that couldn't really mean He was literally going to die, right? It had to be a symbol of something else, like so many of His teachings. None of them wanted to dwell too long on such a puzzle, and most settled for simply burying the words deep, covering them over with thoughts of palaces and grand charges and fire from heaven.

But this? This could not be ignored. This could not be misinterpreted. This could not simply be a metaphor for something beyond their grasp.

"One of you will betray me."

Conversation halted. The room grew eerily quiet. Each one looked into his neighbors' eyes, the silent question beginning to show in their own as terrible, horrible understanding of the reality of His words sank in.

"Could it be you? Could it be...me?"

They were a band of brothers. Who among their number would even consider such a thing? Who among them would offer up their Salvation, their Yeshua, on the altar of ambition? Pride? Greed?

One by one they voiced their silent fear. Peter. Andrew. James and John. Matthew. James the lesser. Phillip, Bartholomew, and Thaddaeus. Thomas. Simon.

Judas.

All voiced that horrible question, the bitter words dripping from their mouths like a poison to their own souls.

"Is it I, Lord?"

---

Two thousand years and more have passed since that night. I find myself looking in the mirror today and asking myself the same black question. "Is it I, Lord?" With my words, my actions, the secret thoughts of my heart, do I betray the Salvation sent by my God?

So many, many times, the answer is yes.

Peter must have felt this way as he cursed and swore that he did not know that Man about to be put to death. As the second cry of the rooster echoed from the city walls, the weight of his own faithlessness must have crushed down upon him, choking out the last vestige of hope carried within his heart.

And yet...

Peter was forgiven. Peter was embraced, welcomed, loved. Forgiven. Forgiven even for turning his back in a critical hour of need.

-

"Is it I, Lord? Though I have betrayed you, is it to me Your forgiveness falls? Are my tears the ones You wipe away? Can it be my sins You take away--forever? Can this great, all-encompassing, all-forgiving love be meant for ME?"

-

The answer, in case you're wondering, is yes. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. It is why we needed saving in the first place. It is why He came. For you. For me. For generations before us, and for every child after us.

Take a moment. Taste those bitter words on your tongue. Ask the question, and really look at what, exactly, it is you're asking.

"Is it I, Lord?"