Lent Devotional

My name is Melissa DeGroat, and I've been part of Fellowship for seventeen years, growing here through many chapters of life and faith. I currently serve on the leadership team for MomCo, a ministry and community for moms of all ages. It is a joy to walk alongside other women in this season, sharing encouragement, laughter, and the realities of everyday life. I'm a retired dance artist who now spends my days as a stay-at-home mom. My husband, Michael, and I love parenting our son, Everett (2½), embracing adventure as a family with our beautiful dog, Sky, and continuing to seek Christ together in this chapter of our lives.

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Betrayal cuts deepest when it comes from someone who knows you. An enemy can wound, but a friend can undo. A stranger may strike the surface, but a friend knows where you are vulnerable and how to reach it. As believers, we must wrestle with the power we possess to hurt one another, especially those we claim to love. Proximity gives access, and trust gives influence; when love is broken, the damage runs deep.

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As a child, I trusted a teacher who deeply hurt me. As an adult, I trusted that same person again, and the hurt went even deeper. There are moments when the weight of that betrayal still fills my mind. Yet, when I come to the Lord with my pain, He holds me close and gently reminds me of someone I once betrayed — someone who likely feels pain when they see me. Betrayal becomes a mirror, revealing not only how deeply we can be wounded, but how deeply we can wound others.

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This is where the Gospel meets us. We are freed from the power of sin, but not from the effects of sin. Grace does not deny our brokenness; it tells the truth about it. Without Christ, this cycle of pain would consume us. But in the presence of the Lord, pain is put in its proper place — not because it disappears, but because He stands above it and draws us out of the cycle. Because of Christ's sacrifice, we can trust that no betrayal is too great for Him. He sees our pain. He sees the pain we cause. And He died for all of it.

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I like to believe I am a faithful follower of Christ — one who would never turn away. Yet, if I am honest, had I stood there the day He gave Himself, I doubt I would have stood beside Him. More likely, I would have remained at a distance — silent, watching, or perhaps lending my voice to the crowd — as He was mocked, tortured, and crucified. Would you have drawn near... or would you, like me, have stayed back — or worse?

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When we face the depth of our own depravity, we begin to glimpse the greatness of God's forgiveness. He welcomes us into His kingdom — not because of who we are or what we have done, but because of who He is. As we follow Him, we bring our pain of betrayal to Him — not asking what our wounds demand, but what He desires. David names betrayal plainly in Psalm 41, describing the wound of a trusted friend who shared bread and then "lifted his heel." Jesus does not distance Himself from those words; He fulfills them in John 13. In doing so, He shows us that betrayal is not evidence of God's absence, but often the place of His unexpected presence — where He holds our deepest wounds and gives us our deepest hope.