Luke
4:1-13
Welcome to the season of Lent. As we began here this morning, if you felt a
bit like a time traveler, you’re probably not alone. Winding through the nave, we offered the Great
Litany, that centuries-old corporate prayer that marks a right beginning for
this season of turning in a new direction. We named our sins and our needs across the
full range of human experience and we raised them up to God for healing. It’s a good way to remember that Lent is a
wandering journey, not a direct trip from point A to point B.
In our reading this morning about Jesus’
time of prayer and fasting in the wilderness, the story cuts to the chase
quickly, fast-forwarding to the climax, when Jesus is tempted by the incarnation
of evil. If this were Star Wars, it would
be Darth Vader taking on Luke Skywalker.
And in our tale, too, the hero overcomes the power of evil, not through a
battle of light sabers but a battle of wills – and Scripture quotations. This story of opposing evil isn’t like the
Ukrainians standing up to Vladimir Putin and his tanks; this is the kind of challenge
we face much more regularly ourselves – going up against evil that invites our
destruction rather than demanding it.
For Jesus, this confrontation with evil
didn’t come out of the blue.
Counterintuitively, the Holy Spirit led him into the wilderness in order
to train him up. The human aspect of
Jesus apparently needed that, the chance to build spiritual muscle out there in
the desert. Like Luke Skywalker enduring
Yoda’s training, Jesus was out there a long time, 40 days and 40 nights, the
story says. Even for Jesus, standing up
to evil took more than magical incantations or flipping a spiritual switch. I mean, you can know the Dark Side is
out there – you can even study it and reflect on it. But until you put yourself through your
paces, you’re not ready to decline to evil’s invitation.
I think Satan’s invitations in this story are
fascinating – and applicable to us – because what he offers Jesus, ironically, is
rooted in goodness. Jesus is 39 days
into a period of hunger, and powerlessness, and the fear that flows from that –
just the opposite of the Jesus we usually remember. So, seizing the moment, the power of evil
visits him and, on the surface, invites him to receive what God has already
promised. After all, God had given humanity
the earth’s bounty, “every plant yielding seed … and every tree with … fruit,”
as Genesis says (1:29). So, Satan says, turn
some stones into bread, for goodness’ sake.
Not only is there nothing wrong with satisfying your physical needs, God
wants you to live and thrive – so go ahead, have some bread. But Jesus sees the slippery slope and notes
there’s more to well-being than having enough to eat.
So Satan takes a different tack. He knows God’s intentions for Jesus, that
this is the One who will bring God’s reign and rule to earth in the flesh. So Satan offers a shortcut, a way Jesus can
avoid what he knows is looming ahead. Satan
gives him the chance to jump to power without taking the way of the Cross, taking
charge of the world immediately. Seems
like that would be good. I don’t know
about you, but I pray for Jesus to come and be in charge, like, tomorrow. Why bother with the way of the Cross; why take
the long road to glory? But Jesus sees
that the true power of God’s reign and rule comes through standing against what
opposes it – that good can’t fully come to be without taking on the evil
alongside it. And, by the way, Jesus
says, God has a different plan, and God is God, after all.
Well, Satan has landed body blows about hunger
and power, and Jesus is still standing.
So finally, Satan throws a punch of fear. “Look, Jesus, if you go through with God’s
crazy plan and let the Romans nail you to their tree, are you sure of the
outcome? Are you sure God’s gonna have
your back? Prove to yourself that you
know where this story’s going. Remind yourself
that your Father loves you as much as you say.
Throw yourself off the pinnacle of the Temple, and make sure God comes
through to protect you.” It's an
understandable thought. Certainly God wants
us not to be afraid. All through
Scripture, angels are telling people, “Do not fear.” But as we learn later in the New Testament, it’s
“perfect love [that] casts out fear” (1 John 4:18), not exploiting
personal relationships. And love can’t
happen without trust. So Jesus finally
snarls at Satan, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test” (Luke 4:12).
None of the devil’s temptations are bad
things, in and of themselves. God wants
our physical needs to be satisfied. God wants
heavenly power to reign on earth. God wants
us to trust in divine love and set our fear aside. Satan uses the good as an invitation for us to
step down the slippery slope. It’s
spoiled fruit that evil hands us, the poisoned apple from the witch to Snow
White.
So that’s the end of the story of Jesus’ time
in the wilderness. We don’t know what he
did for the other 39 days, but I like to think of that time as a shadowy guide
to our own Lenten season. Like so much
of our lives, Lent can become a program rather than a journey. Of course it does. We want to be in control of everything, so,
ironically, we even seek to control our experience of letting go. “What are you giving up for Lent? What are you taking on for Lent? Are you going to lose weight, or give up
alcohol, or say no to sweets? Are you going
to read the Bible, or plan a time to pray daily, or find an agency where you
can volunteer? What’s your program?” I don’t know about you, but that’s where my
head goes when the time comes to choose a Lenten discipline.
So, I’ve decided to rock my own spiritual
world this year and live into the truth that I don’t know what’s going to
happen this afternoon, much less over the next 40 days. But I do know, for a fact, that along that
journey, the power of evil will invite me to take some paths that seem
right and good but actually run counter to God’s desires for me. So, this year, I’m trying to take Lent one
day at a time. It’s good advice the
recovery community has known for years, powerful enough to transform a lifetime’s
journey. So, maybe it’s not a bad idea
to try it on for a season, at least. This
Lent, as each day unfolds, I’m going to try to steward my well-being better. Maybe that’s taking a walk at lunchtime
instead of getting just that much more done.
Maybe it’s listening a little more attentively to Morning Prayer and the
day’s Scripture, rather than trying to get the dog to step up his pace on the
walk. Maybe it’s eating an apple instead
of potato chips, or having one glass of wine instead of more.
Now, all this doesn’t mean that it’s wrong
to give something up or take something on.
The church is offering classes, and daily Scripture reading, and service
opportunities, and online prayer twice a day.
Those offerings are there to help you in your training, to help you
build spiritual muscle. And though they
may encourage us to think about Lent as a program, they’re actually a series of
choices you can make. Committing to a
class or a prayer time is great, but the muscle grows from the daily choice of that
over something else.
You know, it’s a sign of modern sophistication
to think that evil’s an archaic notion, something we enlightened 21st-century
people don’t need in order to explain why folks do the things they do. I don’t think “the Devil made me do it”
accounts for every bad choice we make, but I do think evil is real. We face it every day – intimately in our own areas
of weakness, as well as structurally in our culture’s privileging of the
powerful, or in the militarism of the nations.
And I think Jesus’ experience in the wilderness tells us that evil’s temptation
happens most often through invitations and opportunities that don’t seem bad at
all … until the slippery slope becomes free fall. So, if we face evil every day, maybe the best
way to face it down is every day, too.
Each morning, just ask this: What will I do today to choose love – loving
myself, loving my neighbor, loving my world, and loving my God?
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