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Luke 22 — Betrayal, bread and wine, and the prayer that changed everything
8 min read
This is the chapter where everything tilts. The teaching is over. The are behind him. What's left is a meal, a garden, a , a kiss — and the slow, deliberate walk toward the . knows exactly what's coming. He's known for a long time. And yet he still sits down with his friends, breaks bread, pours wine, and speaks with a tenderness that makes the whole scene almost unbearable to read.
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tells this part of the story with incredible intimacy. He doesn't rush. He lets you sit at the table, hear the argument, watch make a he can't keep, and stand at a distance while Jesus prays so hard his sweat falls like blood. If you read this chapter slowly, it will cost you something.
The festival was approaching — the biggest week on the Jewish calendar, when all of remembered how God rescued from . The chief and had been looking for a way to kill , but they had a problem: the crowds loved him. Any public move would cause a riot.
Then something shifted. doesn't soften it — he says entered , one of the twelve. One of Jesus' own. Judas went to the chief priests and officers on his own and worked out a plan to hand Jesus over:
He agreed to betray him — quietly, away from the crowds. And they were thrilled. They promised him money.
So Judas started watching for his moment. Not a dramatic exit. Not a public confrontation. Just a quiet repositioning — still showing up to dinner, still sitting at the table, while looking for the right time to end it all. The betrayal didn't start with a kiss. It started with a decision no one else could see.
When the day arrived to the , sent and ahead with specific instructions:
"Go into the city. A man carrying a jar of water will meet you — follow him into the house he enters. Tell the owner, 'The Teacher asks: where is the guest room where I can eat the Passover with my Disciples?' He'll show you a large upper room, already set up. Prepare the meal there."
They went — and found everything exactly as he described.
(Quick context: men almost never carried water jars in that culture — that was women's work. So spotting this guy would have been like Jesus saying "look for the person doing the thing nobody does." He knew the details before they happened.) The room was ready. The table was set. And Jesus was walking toward it knowing it would be his last meal before the . He didn't leave this night to chance. He had already arranged it.
When evening came, sat down with his . And before he did anything else, he told them something deeply personal:
"I have been longing to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. I'm telling you — I won't eat it again until it finds its fulfillment in the Kingdom of God."
Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and said:
"Take this and share it among yourselves. From now on, I won't drink wine again until the kingdom of God comes."
Then he took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and handed it to them:
"This is my body, given for you. Do this to remember me."
After the meal, he lifted the cup again:
"This cup is the new Covenant in my blood — poured out for you."
Let that land for a second. The had always been about remembering how God rescued his people through the blood of a lamb. Now Jesus was saying: that lamb. This bread is my body. This wine is my blood. Every Passover for a thousand years had been pointing to this table, this night, this person.
Then the tone shifted. Still at the table, still among friends, Jesus said quietly:
"But the hand of the one who will betray me is here — right here at this table. The Son of Man will go the way that has been determined. But how terrible it will be for the one who betrays him."
And they started looking at each other, asking who it could possibly be. Imagine that moment — the bread still in your hands, the weight of what he just said about his body, and now the realization that someone at this table is about to hand him over.
And then — impossibly — the started arguing about which of them was the greatest. had just told them he was about to die. He'd just said someone at the table would betray him. And they pivoted to a status debate.
Jesus responded, and what he said redefines leadership entirely:
"The kings of the Gentiles lord it over people and demand to be called 'benefactors.' But that's not how it works with you. The greatest among you should act like the youngest. The leader should be the one who serves.
Think about it — who's more important, the person sitting at the table or the person serving the food? Obviously the one at the table, right? But I am among you as the one who serves."
Then, right after correcting them, he honored them:
"You are the ones who have stayed with me through my trials. And just as my Father has given me a kingdom, I'm giving you one — so that you will eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel."
That's remarkable. He didn't disqualify them for being petty. He corrected them and then promised them thrones. The doesn't run on competition. It runs on service. And the people Jesus entrusts with the most are the ones who stop trying to climb and start learning to kneel.
Then turned to directly. And what he said is one of the most haunting exchanges in :
"Simon, Simon — Satan has demanded permission to sift all of you like wheat. But I have prayed for you specifically, that your faith will not fail. And when you've come through it — strengthen your brothers."
Peter responded immediately:
"Lord, I'm ready to go with you to prison and to death."
Jesus said:
"I'm telling you, Peter — before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you even know me."
Let me be honest with you: this is a passage that should make you uncomfortable. Not because Peter was uniquely weak — but because he was genuinely confident. He meant what he said. He believed he would never walk away. And Jesus, who loved him deeply, told him the truth anyway. Sometimes the people closest to the fall are the ones most certain they'll stand. Jesus didn't pray that Peter would avoid the failure. He prayed that Peter's would survive it.
turned to the whole group with a question that must have felt like whiplash:
"When I sent you out without a wallet, a bag, or sandals — did you lack anything?"
They answered:
"Nothing."
Then Jesus said:
"But now — if you have a wallet, take it. A bag, take it. And if you don't have a sword, sell your coat and buy one. Because Scripture must be fulfilled in me: 'He was counted among the criminals.' What's written about me is reaching its conclusion."
The said:
"Look, Lord — here are two swords."
Jesus said:
"That's enough."
This passage has puzzled people for centuries. Was Jesus endorsing violence? No — the entire of the evening proves the opposite. He was telling them that the season of miraculous was shifting. The world was about to treat them as outlaws, and him as a criminal. He wasn't arming them. He was warning them: what's coming next won't look like anything you've experienced before. And when they showed him two swords like that solved something, his "that's enough" carried the weight of someone who knows he isn't being understood.
went out to the — the place he always went to pray. His followed. When they arrived, he told them one thing:
"Pray that you won't fall into temptation."
Then he walked about a stone's throw away, dropped to his knees, and prayed:
"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me. But not my will — yours."
An appeared from and strengthened him. And being in agony, he prayed harder — so intensely that his sweat fell to the ground like drops of blood.
I need to slow down here. This is God in human skin, asking his if there's another way. Not performing. Not posturing. Agonizing. The word uses — agony — means a kind of distress so deep it's physical. He sweat blood. He asked for a way out. And then he said yes anyway.
When he came back to the Disciples, he found them asleep. Luke adds a detail no other writer includes: they had fallen asleep from sorrow. Not laziness. Grief had overwhelmed them.
Jesus said:
"Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray — so you won't fall into temptation."
He didn't them. He warned them. Because what was coming next would test every one of them.
While was still speaking, a crowd appeared. And leading them — . One of the twelve. He walked up to Jesus and leaned in to kiss him.
Jesus said:
"Judas — would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"
That question will echo forever. Of all the ways to identify someone for arrest, Judas chose the sign of friendship. The gesture of closeness. He weaponized intimacy. And Jesus didn't flinch — he named exactly what was happening.
The saw what was about to unfold and asked:
"Lord, should we fight?"
Before he could answer, one of them swung a sword and cut off the right ear of the servant. Jesus' response was immediate:
"No more of this!"
And then — in the middle of his own arrest, surrounded by armed men who had come to drag him away — he reached out and healed the man's ear. His last before the wasn't for a follower. It wasn't for a friend. It was for someone who came to take him. That tells you everything you need to know about who he is.