Dear Friend,

Some years ago, someone I trusted betrayed me. I won’t tell you who it was or what happened. Those details don’t matter for this letter, and the person on the other side of that story deserves the same grace I would want if someone were telling mine. I’ll simply say that it hurt the way only broken trust can hurt.

A few years later, I was talking the matter over with an older, wiser pastor. Somewhere in that conversation, he said something I have carried ever since.

“You’ve gotta budget for some betrayal in life.”

I was struck by the phrase before I fully understood it. Budget for betrayal? At first it sounded almost cynical, as though he were telling me to expect the worst from people. The longer we talked, though, the more I realized he was telling me something true, and something kind.

I spent thirty years working in finance, so I should have caught on right away. Every household has costs it knows are coming. Tires wear out. Washing machines die, usually in the middle of a full load. Sooner or later, the roof over your head will need to be replaced. We may not know the date, but none of those should come as a surprise.

The family that has set something aside for those days still feels the bill when it arrives. Nobody enjoys paying for a new roof. But the expense doesn’t knock them flat. For the family that never planned for it, the same bill can pull the rug right out from under them.

People are like that, too. If we love people long enough, some of them will fail to keep their commitments, and a few may betray us outright. If we have never allowed for that possibility, we can be left reeling, with no idea what hit us.

Perhaps that is where you are right now.

Someone you trusted broke that trust. A friend, a business partner, someone at church, someone in your own family. On top of the hurt, there is the shock of it. You keep replaying old conversations, wondering how you missed it.

If so, you are in good company. David knew this wound well: “For it is not an enemy who taunts me—then I could bear it; it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me—then I could hide from him. But it is you, a man, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend. We used to take sweet counsel together; within God’s house we walked in the throng” (Psalm 55:12–14).

Notice that last line. They had worshiped together. That is what made it so hard to bear. David doesn’t pretend it didn’t hurt, and you don’t have to pretend, either.

My pastor friend wasn’t asking me to stop feeling the betrayal. He was helping me see that it didn’t have to be the end of me.

I find the clearest picture of this in Jesus Himself.

Early in His ministry, many people believed in Him when they saw the signs He was doing. “But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man” (John 2:24–25).

He knew what was in us. And He loved us anyway.

On the night He was betrayed, Jesus took a towel and a basin and washed His disciples’ feet. John makes a point of telling us that the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot to betray Him before Jesus rose from supper (John 13:1–5). Jesus knew. He washed those feet anyway.

Hours later, when Judas arrived in the garden with the crowd, Jesus said to him, “Friend, do what you came to do” (Matthew 26:50).

Friend. Even then.

Betrayal didn’t catch Jesus off guard, and it didn’t turn Him bitter. It didn’t make Him hold back His love from the others at that table, either. He had counted the cost long before the bill came due.

So what does it look like for us to budget for betrayal?

Over the years, I have come to see that a budget does two things. It sets something aside ahead of time, and it puts limits on spending. Both matter here.

A budget sets aside realistic expectations. People are sinners, and so am I. Expecting perfection from anyone sets us both up for a crash. Being realistic about human nature is different from being suspicious of every person I meet. I can expect that people will sometimes fail me and still greet each one with warmth.

A budget also sets aside forgiveness in advance. I can decide now, before anyone wrongs me, that I will not let bitterness settle in. Paul writes, “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:31–32). When Peter asked how often he had to forgive, Jesus answered, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:21–22). That is a well-funded account.

Forgiving in advance doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. Jesus also said, “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him” (Luke 17:3). Sometimes love requires an honest, difficult conversation, and full reconciliation takes two willing people. But the bitterness in my own heart is mine to release, whether or not the other person ever comes around (Mark 11:25).

And a budget limits spending. This is where trust comes in. Forgiveness can be given freely, while trust is spent more carefully. Jesus sent His disciples out “as sheep in the midst of wolves,” and told them to “be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). If someone has betrayed you, forgiving them doesn’t require handing them your keys the next morning. Trust can be rebuilt, but it is rebuilt over time, through changed behavior.

Let me say one thing plainly. If someone is harming you, budgeting for betrayal never means staying in danger or accepting abuse. Please reach out to someone who can help you get safe.

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There is one more line item I can’t leave out.

Budgeting for betrayal also means remembering that I’m capable of it. I have never had much trouble forgiving the people who have hurt me. Where I struggle is with my own record. I know my past failures, my sins, the times I have let people down. I know my capacity for evil. Some days I think the hospital should have stuck a warning label on me before they sent me home as an infant.

That is why I keep coming back to the end of Psalm 139. David prays, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23–24).

David doesn’t wait for God to catch him in the act. He invites God to look first, to find what is hidden, and to correct him while correction can still keep him from harm.

I need that prayer. My own version of it is that God will never let me forget that I am not perfect, and that I carry a real propensity for sin. I don’t want that knowledge to crush me. I want it to keep me watchful, and to keep me close to the One who knows my heart better than I do and has not let go of me.

Here is the part of the budget that makes the rest of it possible. Any account will run low if we keep drawing on our own resources. If I try to keep forgiving and keep loving on willpower alone, I’ll run dry.

But there is One who will never betray you. “He has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’” (Hebrews 13:5). The people around you may fail you, and some may hurt you badly. He never will. His faithfulness is the reserve that doesn’t run out.

Someday the roof will need replacing. The washing machine will give out. And somewhere along the way, someone will probably let you down. When that day comes, I pray you’ll feel it honestly, forgive freely, trust wisely, and find that you are still standing, because you were ready for it and because He was there all along.

Before I close, I’d love to hear from you.

That older pastor gave me one sentence I’ve carried for years. Has someone given you a sentence like that? A piece of wisdom from a parent, a pastor, a teacher, or a friend that has stayed with you ever since? Share it in the comments. I read every one, and I’d love for us to learn from each other.

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Comments are public. If you’re carrying something more private, you’re welcome to send me a direct message on Substack instead.

Grace & Peace,
Pastor Neal Letteney <><
The Pastor’s Hearth

For Your Reflection

Where have I been living without a budget, assuming the people I love will never let me down?
Is there a betrayal I’m still paying for because I have never let go of the bitterness?
If I prayed Psalm 139:23–24 honestly today, what might God want to show me about my own heart?

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#22: Budget for Betrayal