On Bloody Hands

I have a friend who is more dear to me then he may ever want to comprehend. He's been a savior figure to me many times when I've been in the midst of struggles and dark situations. If he were not so bitter and disillusioned and sad I could claim him to be one of the most Christ-like men I know. Though, the Christ I know, the man I read of, was bitter, and angry, and sad at times too. I wonder how different my dear Christlike man is.

Jesus came to Judas with bleeding hands and a wounded side. Judas looked away as Jesus said; "look, look what you've done to me? You have wasted my time on earth as you sought your own pleasure, You claimed you desired saving when all you wanted was to feel safe. How could you let your greed ruin such beauty?"
"But Jesus," said Judas, "How could I have known that you would be crucified? I wanted you to work more miracles, I wanted to see you stand and conquer the world. I had faith that God would use you, but you, you seem content to pick at your scabbed hands and not a day goes by when you don't let your side drip blood. You, you have failed God, not I, I did what needed to be done to witness for the kingdom."
"Such a bitter cup you gave me to drink, How much pain you put me through. There has not been a day gone by when I do not open my wounds over and show them to all I can find. I stagger under the pain as I search out my lost sheep."
"You fool," Judas exclaimed, " you know you could have gathered them all in one place and simply stated you would save them. They would have listened, they would have come and rejoiced."
"Yes," said Jesus "but they would turn away soon to the next proclaimed savior because they could not see any witness of my love. When I go to them, laboring and broken, just to find them, they know I care. It is only then that they truly listen and desire to be saved."
"Then, Jesus, rejoice in me and my folly. Without my greed and the pain I caused, you could not do as God planned."
Jesus gazed at Judas with tears in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. Then he turned to crawl on his blood drenched hands over hill and stream towards the bleat of his next wounded lamb.