Bartering for a Soul by F. M. W.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 6, 1910

_Bartering for a Soul_

By F. M. W.

THE sun has just sunk to rest behind the hills of Judea. The last supper of our Lord with his disciples has just been celebrated. Depressed by the thoughts of the bitter cup of agony he must soon drink, our Saviour with his little band of followers seeks the cooling freshness of the evening hour in the quiet places of retreat in the garden of Gethsemane. Here it is he has so often enjoyed the communion with his Father his soul most craved, and here it is that floods of light from heaven above have so often filled his soul and strengthened him for the conflicts of his ministry.

Judas is not a member of the little band. A great purpose possesses his soul, but a purpose so evil in its conception, and so terrible in its execution, better would it have been for him had the day never dawned that linked him with its fatal destiny. While Jesus is wending his way to Gethsemane, Judas, with furtive glance and nervous step, is treading his way through the streets and alleys of Jerusalem to the palace of the high priest. In that palace the plan for the apprehension of the Saviour had been concocted, and the night had been chosen for its execution. And though the utmost secrecy had been observed, Judas in some way had received a knowledge of the plans of the chief priests to effect the destruction of Jesus.

Judas had joined himself to the standard of Jesus at what he deemed an opportune moment. The tide of enthusiasm and admiration over the works of the new Teacher in Israel was running high. It was pleasant to ride on the crest of the rising wave. But the praises of Jesus and his spotless purity had stirred the envy of his rivals. The tide seemed changing in its course. The noisy babble and vacillating multitude who had followed Jesus for temporal gain or idle curiosity had their minds poisoned against the Master. Expression of discontent, of envy, and of evil suggestion, fermented by the enemies of the Lord, had taken place of the wild adoration on the part of the great multitude.

Judas had noted the change. Should he continue longer with a cause that seemed absolutely doomed to oblivion? And even if the cause of Jesus were really of God, would it not be more profitable for him to stand in favor with both sides of the controversy? Could he not gain favor with the chief priests and serve his own temporal advantage, and still maintain his friendship for the Lord?

The Jews sought a man to betray to them the Saviour’s whereabouts. In what secluded spot could they find him that night, and before the morning dawned, place him upon trial for his life? Judas knows their desire, and is bent on the terrible mission of delivering his Lord into the hands of his enemies. Perhaps he thinks that Christ by that divine power he has so often seen him manifest, will deliver himself from the bars and chains of Roman imprisonment.

Who can tell the conflicting emotions that possess his soul as he silently wends his way from that quiet supper scene in the upper chamber to the rendezvous of the scheming, plotting men who seek the life of the One who by his spotless purity had rebuked their sinful doings? He enters the palace of the high priest. The plot is already formed, and they are only lacking now a guide to its fearful execution. The temptation for sordid gain is too great for the double-minded Judas. During all his associations with the Lord he had continued still to nurture in his heart the spirit of covetousness, and oftentimes from the Lord’s scanty store had this covetousness manifested itself in theft, to supply that which Judas desired above his fellows. Here was an opportunity to reimburse himself for a part of that which he had lost in joining himself to the standard of Jesus. The priests call him aside and propose their evil purpose.

“And he said unto them, What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.” O, what a value to set upon his precious Lord! Sixteen dollars and ninety-six cents, the common price of a slave, is the sum at which Judas values his Master.

Judas had loved his Lord, at least he thought he did; but here was the test of his love. Here was the test of his friendship.

The experience of Judas is not unlike that of thousands of others in the world to-day. How many there are who are betraying their Lord for something suited to their carnal desires! With some it is the exchange of the Christian’s hope for earthly possessions, for an earthly name, for that which will prove of temporal, personal advantage. Esau sold his birthright, with all the blessings it involved, for the lust of appetite. Peter denied his Lord through fear of ridicule and scoffing. Judas valued him at the price of a slave. Demas exchanged him for the riches and pleasure of this world. And that man or woman to-day who holds in reserve any earthly desire or sordid purpose, does so to the exclusion of God’s blessing, and counts that thing of more value than the Son of God.

At what price do you value him? To you is he the “chiefest among ten thousand, the One altogether lovely”? To you is he more precious than gold, even the fine gold of Ophir? Is his love the ruling passion of your life? And is the great purpose that possesses your soul to live for him, and to be sanctified by the indwelling of his Spirit? Be sure, if this is not the case, if you have not put on the Lord Jesus Christ, making no provision for the lusts of the flesh, there will surely come a time when this reserve will prove your weakness, and you will be found betraying your Lord in the market of your own carnal desires, for that which will prove your everlasting destruction, as in the case of the object-lesson before us.

The value of Jesus is the value of a soul; and the value of a soul is the value of an eternity of joy in the presence of God. May the priceless treasure of a Saviour’s love appeal to our hearts so sensibly that we shall count the things of this world of little moment, compared with the inestimable riches of his grace. F. M. W.