Psalms 41:1-13: in context

In this psalm, the writer, sick and surrounded by enemies who wish his death, comes to the bitterest part of his suffering. It is not the illness, nor even the enemies who whisper against him, but a betrayal from within. Yes, my own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me. The one who had shared his table, whom he had trusted as a close friend, has turned against him. Of all his sufferings, this wound, the betrayal of a trusted friend, is the one he names with deepest pain.

The particular pain named here is the wound of betrayal by a trusted friend. Enemies who oppose us openly are one thing; but the betrayal of someone close, someone we trusted, someone who shared our table and our confidence, is a wound of a different and deeper kind. My own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me: the closeness of the friend makes the betrayal cut deeper. It is not the blow of an enemy but the treachery of a trusted friend, and it wounds in a way that open hostility does not. This is a grief many of us know, and it is a grief so real that Christ himself took these very words upon his lips. On the night he was betrayed, Jesus quoted this psalm about Judas, one of his own, who had shared his table: he who ate bread with me has lifted up his heel against me. Christ knew the wound of betrayal by a trusted friend; he was betrayed by one of the twelve, one who had shared his life. And so when we suffer this particular pain, we do not suffer it alone or unknown; Christ himself has known it, and understands it from within. There is comfort in this, both in being understood and in where the psalmist turns. The betrayal of a trusted friend is a real and deep wound, not to be minimized; and Christ, who suffered it, understands it. And the psalmist, in his pain, turns to God: but you, LORD, have mercy on me, and raise me up. He brings even this bitter grief to God, who understands it and is a refuge in it. This searches how we bear the wound of betrayal, and where we take it. When we suffer the treachery of a trusted friend, that particular deep pain, we may be tempted to bitterness, or to despair of trusting anyone again. But the psalmist, and Christ who knew this wound, show us to bring even this bitter grief to God, who understands it from within and is a refuge in it. It was not an enemy, another psalm says, but you, my companion and my familiar friend. The pain of betrayal is real; but we do not bear it alone or unknown, for Christ suffered it too; and we may bring it, as the psalmist did, to the God who understands this wound and remains our refuge in it.

When I suffer the wound of betrayal by a trusted friend, that particular deep pain that cuts deeper than the hostility of an open enemy, do I sink into bitterness or despair of trusting anyone again, or can I take comfort that Christ himself knew this wound, taking the psalmist's words upon his lips regarding Judas, so that I am understood in this grief, and bring even this bitter pain, as the psalmist did, to the God who understands it from within and remains my refuge in it?