One of You
One of You
A Reflection on Matthew 26:20–25
Have you ever been betrayed?
Sometimes the greatest betrayals do not come from enemies—they come from people who were close to us.
We live in a time where trust feels fragile. People have been let down—by friends, by family, even by people they thought were walking with God. People who shared meals with us. People who sat at our tables. People we trusted.
Maybe you have experienced something like that in life. A friendship that broke. A business partner who turned against you. A family member who wounded you deeply, or maybe a love interest.
Those moments stay with us because betrayal from a distance hurts—but betrayal from someone close… that cuts much deeper.
And that is the kind of moment we are stepping into in this passage.
Jesus is sitting at a table with His closest followers—the twelve men who traveled with Him, ate with Him, learned from Him. And in the middle of that meal, Jesus says something that shocks the room:
“One of you will betray me.”
This passage confronts us with a sobering truth:
Sitting at the table with Jesus is not the same thing as belonging to Jesus.
At the Table
Matthew writes:
In the Greco-Roman world, formal meals were often eaten while reclining at the table. Here, Jesus and His twelve disciples are gathered to celebrate the Passover—the meal where Israel remembered how God delivered them from slavery in Egypt. Each year they retold that story of the lamb whose blood saved them and the night God passed over their homes.
But on this night—something greater is unfolding.
At this Passover table sits the true Passover Lamb. And before the night is over, Jesus Himself will be handed over so that an even greater deliverance can take place.
This is an innermost moment. These were the men who had followed Jesus closely. And as they were eating, he said:
Whenever Jesus uses the word “Truly,” it’s best His followers listen up, because truth is being spoken. And while the disciples may have been thinking about something ordinary, Jesus lays out this hard reality: betrayal is coming—from within the group.
It’s like your Uncle Frank who, during your family’s annual celebration, announces that someone in the room has emptied out everyone’s bank account. Betrayal. And this occurs during a sacred moment.
And even here—Jesus is not losing control. He knows exactly what is unfolding. This is happening within God’s plan of redemption.
The Question That Matters
Matthew continues:
Imagine the room.
Silence.
Then one voice: “Is it I, Lord?”
Then another.
And another.
One by one, the question moves around the table.
Every disciple searches his own heart.
The most spiritually dangerous place is not asking, “Is it I?”
It’s assuming, “It could never be me.”
Notice something important: no one says, “I bet it’s Judas.”
Every one of them looks inward.
That is what real discipleship looks like. Before we accuse others, we examine our own hearts.
This moment reveals something about how fragile human faithfulness can be. And the disciples recognize that.
Their question shows humility—but also uncertainty about their own hearts.
Betrayal in Fellowship
Jesus answers:
Sharing the same dish is a sign of deep fellowship and trust.
In the ancient world, to eat together was to declare peace. That is why betrayal at a meal was considered especially appalling.
The one who shares the meal…
The one who participates in this sacred moment…
That is the one who betrays Jesus.
The irony is unmistakable.
God’s Plan and Human Responsibility
Jesus continues:
Hard words—for a hard truth.
But notice the beginning: “as it is written.”
God had already spoken about the suffering of the Messiah. What is unfolding here is not an accident. The cross is not a surprise. God’s plan of redemption is moving forward exactly as Scripture said it would.
Even in betrayal, God is accomplishing redemption.
And yet, Judas is still responsible.
Matthew holds both realities together:
Divine destiny—and human responsibility.
Two tracks running in the same direction.
“Woe to that man.”
The weight of this moment is real.
Rabbi or Lord?
Then comes Judas:
Notice the difference.
The other disciples say, “Lord.”
Judas says, “Rabbi.”
That difference matters.
A teacher can be respected.
A teacher can be admired.
But Lord means authority.
Lord means surrender.
Judas is willing to sit at the table with Jesus—but he is not willing to submit his life to Him.
Judas calling Jesus “Rabbi” wasn’t an insult—it was a title of respect. But it was also a title of distance. He kept Jesus as a subject expert, rather than a sovereign Lord.
Participation—even deep respect—is not the same as devotion.
A Warning for Today
Right now, it is easier than ever to appear close to Jesus without actually surrendering to Him.
You attend church.
You serve.
You participate.
You engage with Christian content.
All of those things can be good.
But they are not the same as surrender.
Judas looked the part.
He walked with Jesus.
He sat at the table.
And still—he never surrendered.
These ancient passages still speak directly to us:
Closeness to Jesus externally does not guarantee faithfulness internally.
A Personal Reflection
We can do all the right things… and still miss what matters most—apart from surrender to Jesus.
Judas spent three years with Jesus and still never surrendered to Him.
And that brings us to a question that cannot wait:
Is Jesus your rabbi…
or is Jesus your Lord?
Picture that table again.
Jesus.
The twelve.
The bread.
The shared dish.
The quiet room.
And the question moving from one voice to another:
“Is it I, Lord?”
Every disciple asks it.
Except one.
Judas asks a different question:
“Is it I—Rabbi?”
And that difference changes everything.
Because a rabbi can be admired.
But a Lord must be followed.
In a world where trust is fragile…
Where it is easy to look faithful without being faithful…
Where we are more comfortable learning from Jesus than surrendering to Him…
This is not a new question.
But it is one most people never truly answer.
So here it is—the question that confronts every one of us today:
Is Jesus your rabbi…
or is Jesus your Lord?
Amen.
A Reflection on Matthew 26:20–25
Have you ever been betrayed?
Sometimes the greatest betrayals do not come from enemies—they come from people who were close to us.
We live in a time where trust feels fragile. People have been let down—by friends, by family, even by people they thought were walking with God. People who shared meals with us. People who sat at our tables. People we trusted.
Maybe you have experienced something like that in life. A friendship that broke. A business partner who turned against you. A family member who wounded you deeply, or maybe a love interest.
Those moments stay with us because betrayal from a distance hurts—but betrayal from someone close… that cuts much deeper.
And that is the kind of moment we are stepping into in this passage.
Jesus is sitting at a table with His closest followers—the twelve men who traveled with Him, ate with Him, learned from Him. And in the middle of that meal, Jesus says something that shocks the room:
“One of you will betray me.”
This passage confronts us with a sobering truth:
Sitting at the table with Jesus is not the same thing as belonging to Jesus.
At the Table
Matthew writes:
“When it was evening, he reclined at table with the twelve.”
(Matt 26:20, ESV)
In the Greco-Roman world, formal meals were often eaten while reclining at the table. Here, Jesus and His twelve disciples are gathered to celebrate the Passover—the meal where Israel remembered how God delivered them from slavery in Egypt. Each year they retold that story of the lamb whose blood saved them and the night God passed over their homes.
But on this night—something greater is unfolding.
At this Passover table sits the true Passover Lamb. And before the night is over, Jesus Himself will be handed over so that an even greater deliverance can take place.
This is an innermost moment. These were the men who had followed Jesus closely. And as they were eating, he said:
“Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
(Matt 26:21, ESV)
Whenever Jesus uses the word “Truly,” it’s best His followers listen up, because truth is being spoken. And while the disciples may have been thinking about something ordinary, Jesus lays out this hard reality: betrayal is coming—from within the group.
It’s like your Uncle Frank who, during your family’s annual celebration, announces that someone in the room has emptied out everyone’s bank account. Betrayal. And this occurs during a sacred moment.
And even here—Jesus is not losing control. He knows exactly what is unfolding. This is happening within God’s plan of redemption.
The Question That Matters
Matthew continues:
“And they were very sorrowful and began to say to him one after another, ‘Is it I, Lord?’”
(Matt 26:22, ESV)
Imagine the room.
Silence.
Then one voice: “Is it I, Lord?”
Then another.
And another.
One by one, the question moves around the table.
Every disciple searches his own heart.
The most spiritually dangerous place is not asking, “Is it I?”
It’s assuming, “It could never be me.”
Notice something important: no one says, “I bet it’s Judas.”
Every one of them looks inward.
That is what real discipleship looks like. Before we accuse others, we examine our own hearts.
This moment reveals something about how fragile human faithfulness can be. And the disciples recognize that.
Their question shows humility—but also uncertainty about their own hearts.
Betrayal in Fellowship
Jesus answers:
“He who has dipped his hand in the dish with me will betray me.”
(Matt 26:23, ESV)
Sharing the same dish is a sign of deep fellowship and trust.
In the ancient world, to eat together was to declare peace. That is why betrayal at a meal was considered especially appalling.
The one who shares the meal…
The one who participates in this sacred moment…
That is the one who betrays Jesus.
The irony is unmistakable.
God’s Plan and Human Responsibility
Jesus continues:
“The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.”
(Matt 26:24, ESV)
Hard words—for a hard truth.
But notice the beginning: “as it is written.”
God had already spoken about the suffering of the Messiah. What is unfolding here is not an accident. The cross is not a surprise. God’s plan of redemption is moving forward exactly as Scripture said it would.
Even in betrayal, God is accomplishing redemption.
And yet, Judas is still responsible.
Matthew holds both realities together:
Divine destiny—and human responsibility.
Two tracks running in the same direction.
“Woe to that man.”
The weight of this moment is real.
Rabbi or Lord?
Then comes Judas:
“Judas, who would betray him, answered, ‘Is it I, Rabbi?’ He said to him, ‘You have said so.’”
(Matt 26:25, ESV)
Notice the difference.
The other disciples say, “Lord.”
Judas says, “Rabbi.”
That difference matters.
A teacher can be respected.
A teacher can be admired.
But Lord means authority.
Lord means surrender.
Judas is willing to sit at the table with Jesus—but he is not willing to submit his life to Him.
Judas calling Jesus “Rabbi” wasn’t an insult—it was a title of respect. But it was also a title of distance. He kept Jesus as a subject expert, rather than a sovereign Lord.
Participation—even deep respect—is not the same as devotion.
A Warning for Today
Right now, it is easier than ever to appear close to Jesus without actually surrendering to Him.
You attend church.
You serve.
You participate.
You engage with Christian content.
All of those things can be good.
But they are not the same as surrender.
Judas looked the part.
He walked with Jesus.
He sat at the table.
And still—he never surrendered.
These ancient passages still speak directly to us:
Closeness to Jesus externally does not guarantee faithfulness internally.
A Personal Reflection
We can do all the right things… and still miss what matters most—apart from surrender to Jesus.
Judas spent three years with Jesus and still never surrendered to Him.
And that brings us to a question that cannot wait:
Is Jesus your rabbi…
or is Jesus your Lord?
Picture that table again.
Jesus.
The twelve.
The bread.
The shared dish.
The quiet room.
And the question moving from one voice to another:
“Is it I, Lord?”
Every disciple asks it.
Except one.
Judas asks a different question:
“Is it I—Rabbi?”
And that difference changes everything.
Because a rabbi can be admired.
But a Lord must be followed.
In a world where trust is fragile…
Where it is easy to look faithful without being faithful…
Where we are more comfortable learning from Jesus than surrendering to Him…
This is not a new question.
But it is one most people never truly answer.
So here it is—the question that confronts every one of us today:
Is Jesus your rabbi…
or is Jesus your Lord?
Amen.
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