The Betrayal of Judas

I am Judas.

Once a name among the Twelve.

Called by the Son of the Living God Himself.

Now—a warning, etched in eternity.

Come closer, fellow sinner.

And heed the cry from the abyss.

I walked with Him.

Ate with Him.

Watched Him raise the dead.

I saw the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the leper made whole.

I stood in the presence of the unblemished Lamb—

the fulfillment of every covenant, every prophecy,

every aching hope of Israel.

Now I see clearly.

He was the Logos—the Word through whom all was made.

The second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, enfleshed for love of man.

The spotless Victim.

The eternal High Priest.

The Bridegroom of souls.

And I—I kissed the Eucharist Himself with lips of treachery.

I betrayed the Face of Mercy with a kiss.

I sold the King of Glory for thirty fleeting coins.

I dined with the Creator, dipped my bread in His bowl—

and yet I chose to feast on despair.

He washed my feet.

He called me friend.

He offered me His Body and Blood.

And I—blinded by pride—

walked into the night.

I, who touched Heaven…

chose hell.

Not because His mercy lacked power.But because I refused it.

Despair is not humility—

It is pride in disguise.

It whispers: “Your guilt is greater than God’s goodness.”

And that lie damns more souls than sin ever could.

I did not fall because God would not forgive me.

I fell because I would not kneel to be forgiven.

I rejected the dawn of Divine Mercy.

To those still walking the earth—listen:

Do not mock Divine Mercy.

Do not pretend your sin is mightier than His Cross.

That lie was mine—and it damned me.

Do not delay.

Do not rationalize your guilt.

Do not negotiate with sin.

You fall? Then fall on your knees.

Confess. Repent.

Run to the Confessional like a man pursued by wolves—

only know this:

your soul is hunted by enemies far more ancient,

more cunning,

and more merciless than any beast of flesh.

These spirits envy your salvation

and howl at the gates of your soul.

Flee to the mercy of God as though eternity depends on it—

because it does.

Kiss His feet like the woman with the alabaster jar.

Cling to the Church, the Ark of salvation.

The sacraments are your weapons—wield them.

The Eucharist is your lifeblood—receive it with trembling love.

And the Blessed Virgin—oh, do not scorn her help.

She weeps for souls like mine.

She would have interceded for me…

if only I had turned back.

Choose Him.

Even now… He would still call you friend.

I see now—Peter also denied Him.

But Peter wept, repented… and became a saint.

I wept—and despaired.

I chose death without mercy.

Now I remain in a darkness of my own choosing.

Let my fate be your warning—not your end.

If not, I will see you here—

in the abyss, suffering beside me…

for all eternity.

Hell is not fire alone.

It is the agony of perfect memory.