Living a life without Villains

The Person You Love to Blame

Everyone has a Judas. Not literally, of course — most of us have not been betrayed for thirty pieces of silver. But most people carry a mental list of those who have wronged them. The boss who passed them over. The friend who disappeared when things got difficult. The family member whose choices created years of fallout.

We give these people a role in our story: the villain. And once someone has been cast as the villain, everything they do gets filtered through that lens. Their motives are always suspect. Their apologies are never sincere enough. They become the explanation for why our life is not what it should be.

But what if living with villains is doing more damage to us than whatever the villain actually did?

The Most Famous Villain in History

Mark 14:10-11 introduces Judas at the moment he decides to betray Jesus. The passage is brief: "Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over."

Judas is the ultimate biblical villain. His name has become synonymous with betrayal and treachery across cultures and centuries. And the talk used his story as a starting point for something unexpected.

"I've called my talk 'Living a Life Without Villains' because I think there's something in the essence of this story that can liberate us from seeing other people as villains and empower us so that we no longer see ourselves as victims."

That is a significant claim. Because most of us are quite attached to our villains.

Why We Need Villains

There is a reason we cast people as villains in our personal stories. It serves a purpose.

If someone else is the villain, then we are the victim. And if we are the victim, then we are not responsible. The marriage failed because of what they did. The career stalled because of an unfair boss. The family fracture was entirely their fault.

Villains give us someone to blame, and blame is one of the most effective ways to avoid looking at our own contribution to a situation.

"When we create villains in our lives, we almost always create a corresponding victim — ourselves. And once we see ourselves as victims, we give away our power to change anything."

That is not to say that genuine harm does not happen. People do terrible things. Betrayal is real. Abuse is real. Injustice is real. But there is a difference between acknowledging what someone did and building your entire identity around it.

What Judas Actually Tells Us

The talk dug into the Judas story with more nuance than the usual retelling. Judas was not a cartoon villain. He was one of the Twelve — hand-picked by Jesus, trusted with the group's finances, present for every miracle and teaching. He had walked with Jesus for three years.

So what went wrong? The gospels offer clues rather than a complete explanation. John's gospel notes that Judas used to help himself to money from the communal purse. There seems to have been a growing disillusionment — perhaps Judas expected Jesus to be a political Messiah who would overthrow Rome, and when it became clear that was not the plan, disappointment curdled into something darker.

But here is what stands out: Jesus knew. He knew from early on that Judas would betray him. And he did not expel him from the group. He washed his feet at the Last Supper. He shared bread with him. He called him "friend" in the garden at the moment of betrayal.

Jesus did not make Judas his villain. Even when Judas was, by any reasonable measure, behaving villainously.

The Cost of Carrying Bitterness

When we designate someone as the villain of our story, we think we are holding them accountable. In reality, we are giving them ongoing power over our emotional life.

"Bitterness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." That well-worn phrase was referenced in the discussion, and it endures because it is true.

The person you resent is probably not lying awake thinking about you. They may not even remember the specific incident that you have replayed a thousand times. Meanwhile, the bitterness is shaping your decisions, your relationships, and your capacity for joy.

The talk explored how unforgiveness operates like a prison. The person who hurt you walks free while you remain locked in a cell of your own making, rehearsing the offence, waiting for an apology that may never come.

Forgiveness Is Not What You Think

One of the biggest barriers to releasing our villains is a misunderstanding of what forgiveness actually means.

Forgiveness does not mean what happened was acceptable. It does not mean pretending it did not hurt. It does not mean letting someone back into your life to do the same thing again. And it absolutely does not mean that justice does not matter.

"Forgiveness is not about the other person. It's about you. It's a decision to stop letting what they did define your future."

Jesus modelled this from the cross. "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." He said this while being executed. The people he was forgiving had not apologised. They had not changed. They were actively killing him. And he forgave them anyway.

That is not weakness. It is the most radical act of strength in human history.

From Victim to Free

The talk offered a framework for moving from a villain-and-victim narrative to something more liberating.

First, acknowledge what happened honestly. Do not minimise it, spiritualise it, or pretend it did not matter. If someone hurt you, name it.

Second, separate the person from the pain. What they did was wrong. But they are a complex human being made in the image of God, carrying their own wounds and failures. That does not excuse what they did, but it does complicate the simple villain narrative.

Third, choose to release them. Not for their sake, but for yours. This is not a one-time event — it is a decision you may need to make repeatedly as the feelings resurface.

And fourth, take responsibility for your own story going forward. You cannot change what happened. But you can choose whether it continues to define you.

"Once we stop seeing ourselves as victims, we get our power back. We can make choices based on who we want to become, rather than reacting to what was done to us."

Jesus and the Villain Question

What is remarkable about Jesus's approach to Judas — and to everyone who wronged him — is the total absence of a victim mentality. Jesus was betrayed, abandoned, falsely accused, beaten, and crucified. If anyone had the right to cast villains, it was him.

And he refused to do it.

He wept over Jerusalem instead of cursing it. He restored Peter after Peter denied him. He asked his Father to forgive the soldiers who nailed him to the cross. He even addressed Judas as "friend" at the moment of arrest.

Jesus understood something that most of us spend a lifetime learning: holding someone in the role of villain does not hurt them. It imprisons us.

The Harder Question

Letting go of your villains does not mean the hurt disappears. It does not mean relationships are automatically restored. Some bridges have been burned for good reason, and boundaries are not the same as bitterness.

But there is a freedom available that most people never access, because they cannot bring themselves to release the person who wronged them. And that freedom is not just for the spiritually mature or the naturally forgiving. It is for anyone willing to make the choice, even when every feeling screams against it.

Who is the villain in your story? And what would it mean — not to pretend they did not hurt you, but to stop letting that hurt write the rest of your chapters?