I've been reading the book of Mark, and I'm in the middle of chapter 14. It's the chapter that includes Jesus's betrayal by Judas. It's very sobering to read how one of His own betrayed Him for pieces of silver.
But you know what?
That's not the saddest part to me. What really breaks my heart is verse 50. The New International Version says it this way. After Judas betrayed Jesus and He was arrested, "Then everyone deserted him and fled."
Everyone.
We assume it was just the other eleven disciples, but maybe it included some of the other followers. In any case, that "everyone" was, at the very least, those eleven who had been following Jesus for three years. They'd broken bread with Him. They'd probably camped out under the stars by His side. They'd seen Him heal the broken. They'd watched Him raise the dead. They knew He was the Christ. And just moments before, Peter said he'd die with Jesus.
And yet, everyone deserted Him. Everyone.
It just breaks my heart.
And I think it broke Jesus's heart too. It think it caused more pain than the beatings He'd receive and from the nails that would be pounded in His flesh.
When I read this verse, I'm convicted of something: I never want to cause Jesus that kind of pain again. I deserted Him once. I spent 20 years fleeing from Him. And I broke His heart, just as those eleven did.
And I never want to do that again.
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