As Judas stood before me, all the memories flooded my soul – the first time I had seen him, the good qualities that led me to choose him as an apostle, the potential for good that lay in his spirit. Now, all of that was cast aside. Satan had his heart.

Satan and I had battled over Judas. How often I had prayed for him, knowing that his soul was at stake. He, one of the twelve, now belonged to the enemy. All his inner resources and his knowledge of my whereabouts were in enemy hands.

I called him “friend”, but he kissed me with the kiss of betrayal. This was my deepest sorrow. I had lost him. He would not be mine. Better if he had never been born. I would take that sorrow all the way to my death. It would never leave me. Satan used it again and again to torment me in my final hours. “You are the savior of the world and you could not even save one of your twelve”. Judas was free to choose. Everyone is free to choose my saving grace and all who turn away cause me the deepest sorrow.