The Holy Kiss 3: Betrayal and Redemption
When a Holy Kiss Betrays
When a holy kiss betrays, it doesn’t snarl, it whispers. It leans in close, smells like something comforting, familiar. Like perfume clinging to a coat. Like bread just pulled from the oven.
Judas didn’t shout. He didn’t point. He walked right up, looked Jesus in the eye, whispered “Rabbi,” and kissed Him.
It was tender. It was practiced. And it was deadly.
Familiar Faces, Unfamiliar Wounds
Of all the signals Judas could have chosen, he chose a kiss – the most tender, trusting act of affection – to deliver the cruellest act of disloyalty. Why a kiss? Because betrayal rarely comes with warning signs. It catches you off guard. Hides its teeth behind a smile. Wears the face of a friend but carries the heart of a hunter.
Jesus knew them. And He warned us: wolves don’t come howling. They dress like lambs.
“Constantly be on your guard against phony prophets. They come disguised as lambs, appearing to be genuine, but on the inside, they are like wild, ravenous wolves!” (Matthew 7:15)
That’s the danger of false affection; it wears the face of friendship while harbouring the heart of betrayal. And it teaches us something piercing: company is not the same as loyalty.
Affection, if not holy, can turn vicious.
One of the Trusted
Judas wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t on the outside of the circle. He was part of the twelve. One of the chosen. One of the trusted.
He walked the same dusty roads. Heard the same parables. Laughed at the same inside jokes. Broke bread at the same table.
And still, he kissed Jesus with the serpent’s kiss.
“Even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me.”
(Psalm 41:9)
In other words, the deepest wounds don’t come from enemies. They come from friends. From insiders. From those close enough to kiss you.
Which is exactly why Paul’s strange and repeated instruction to “greet one another with a holy kiss” matters so much.
For in a world where kisses can kill, ours must protect.
What the Holy Kiss Is (and Isn’t)
The holy kiss isn’t romantic, or quaint, or something left behind with youth. It is covenantal, deliberate, unsettling in its closeness. A sacred act, not born of passion, but of promise. Of allegiance softly spoken, not expressed in grand gestures. Of love that has counted the cost and chosen to stay faithful.
“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” (Romans 12:9)
That word sincere? It comes from Latin roots meaning “without wax.” In ancient markets, dishonest potters would smear wax into cracked clay, then paint it smooth to hide the flaws. But sincere love doesn’t disguise its weaknesses. It doesn’t patch itself with polish. It doesn’t mask, manipulate, or pretend to love while quietly planning an exit.
A holy kiss is affection aligned with allegiance. Not the kind of courtesy offered in passing or out of habit, but the kind that sees the flaws and commits anyway. It is both polite and pure. Genuine, and unflinchingly honest. A gesture shaped by memory, by cost, and by the quiet courage it takes to commit.
Betrayal Isn’t Always Loud
Neither is betrayal always dramatic. Sometimes it just changes the Wi-Fi password. Or sends the group chat screenshots to the wrong person – on purpose.
It shows up in credit scores and custody battles. In whispered prayer requests that sound a lot like gossip. In polite smiles that say, “I’ve moved on, and I hope you noticed.”
It’s the business partner who walks away with everything. The friend who was “too busy.” The pastor who preaches covenant but practices convenience.
Sometimes it comes with silence. With social niceties masking emotional withdrawal. With unanswered WhatsApp’s, filtered disengagement, and the ache of someone choosing to stay away under the guise of being polite.
And so, a holy kiss must be more than affection. It must be anchored in loyalty.
It isn’t manipulative.
It doesn’t insist on its own way.
It demonstrates kindness wrapped in gentleness.
It holds compassion in one hand, and commitment in the other.
But How Do We Deal with Betrayal?
So, what do we do with betrayal? We name it. We stop excusing it, stop brushing it off as if the wound didn’t reach the bone. We let it be what it was – costly, deliberate, and personal.
Jesus didn’t dodge Judas’s kiss. He met it. Received it. Spoke its truth aloud. And then, with the taste of betrayal still on His face, He turned and walked toward the cross.
We deal with betrayal by refusing to let it harden us. That’s the first fight: not against our betrayer, but against what their actions could turn us into. Because betrayal wants to shape us in its image – suspicious, closed off, endlessly self-protecting.
So, we let ourselves grieve. Properly. Honestly. We name what was lost, what was broken, what was stolen. But we don’t let the grief set up camp in our souls. We learn to build boundaries without breeding bitterness. To carry wisdom without letting it curdle into cynicism.
And yes, we forgive, but not to pretend it never happened. We forgive as a kind of rebellion. Forgiveness, in its truest form, is resistance: a refusal to become like the one who wounded us.
It is slow work. Unflashy. Often unrecognised. But it’s the work that keeps the holy kiss alive in us so that when the time comes, we can still greet the world, not with guarded hostility, but with a presence forged in holy allegiance. We don’t forgive because it’s easy. We forgive because it’s the only way to stay free.
And most of all, we let the holy kiss teach us how to stay gentle. Not naïve, not exposed, but tender in a world that rewards indifference. We learn how to love again, not foolishly, but faithfully. We risk covenant, even with the memory of fire still on our skin. Because holiness is meant to be protective. It’s meant to be present. To be steadfast.
The holy kiss says, quietly and without demand, “I will be true, even when others aren’t.”
A Redeeming Kiss
Now, betrayal may wound us, but it does not get the final word. That belongs to the redeeming kiss.
Far greater than the kiss that wounds is the one that heals. The holy kiss, offered not out of sentiment, but unity has always been the sign of a Church refusing to fracture. A Church actively anticipating the Lord’s return and preparing for it with open hearts and steadfast affection. As Peter says,
“You ought Live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming…” (2 Peter 3:11–12)
Wait. Speed its coming?
Apparently, holiness and godliness don’t sit around waiting for the end of days. Rather, as we live holy and godly lives, we pull the Kingdom closer. We fill the sails of time with the wind of the Spirit. And if holy affection is part of holiness, then every act of genuine love is prophetic.
Every time we love with truth and tenderness, we bring heaven to earth.
Every time we choose to be faithful – when quitting would be easier – we light the way for His return.
Heaven’s Accent, Earth’s Practice
When we greet one another in covenantal love, we’re not re-enacting a cultural relic. We’re speaking the language of heaven, translated into small, deliberate acts. A hand extended. A welcome that endures beyond what politeness requires. These are not simple gestures. They are rehearsals. Every word, every act, is forming our future, tilting the world toward the return of Christ.
For:
- “We’re not strangers. We’re siblings.”
- “We don’t divide easily. We defend.”
- “We belong to the same King. And we don’t forsake each other.”
And so, the holy kiss becomes a sacred practice. A declaration that loyalty is not an idea we agree with but a truth we inhabit. A way of life, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
So, How Are We Waiting?
In a world fluent in betrayal and skilled in performance, the Church becomes a sacred refuge, a sanctuary. Not because it is polished, but because it persists.
We say we believe Jesus is returning. But confession is easy. The harder question is: how are we waiting?
- Are we withdrawing, rehearsing suspicion like a sermon?
- Are we greeting with smiles while tracing the path of our next quiet departure?
- Or are we learning to love like Jesus – present, persistent, and painfully pure?
The holy kiss does not decorate our theology, it puts it into practice. It trains the heart in covenant. It gives shape to waiting, and dignity to time.
Maybe Jesus doesn’t return simply because the world grows darker.
Maybe He comes because our love burns brighter.
Because our words are faithful.
Because our lives are steadfast.
Maybe the redeeming kiss—the presence that endures, the affection that blesses, the love that commits, is how the Church lights the way home.
Let the Kiss Be Holy
So go ahead.
Greet your siblings.
Not with performance.
Not with pretence.
But with a holy kiss.
Let it be true.
Let it be bold.
Let it be genuine.
With a holy kiss,
❣️May your heart grow ever more attuned to the One who never takes His eyes off you.
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If you missed part 2 of the series, you can read it here.
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I’m Yvonne van Wyk, a Christian author, Bible teacher, and business owner. Through God Enchantment, I explore how faith meets wonder and how Scripture comes alive in everyday life. I also serve as CEO of SA Golden Homes and founded Zahavah Studio, an SEO and content writing company. My heart is to reveal the beauty of God’s presence in both work and worship.
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