Sermon for Lent 1, March 9, 2025
Sermon Series: Who Am I?
Week 1: I am powerless to defeat sin and evil.
It’s been a minute since I stood up here to
preach with you. In fact, it’s been six
weeks since Ann went into the hospital and a month, almost to the day, since
she died. This is one of those moments
when I want to say everything. I want to
honor Ann; I want to share what I’ve learned over these weeks; I want to answer
all your questions; I want to reassure you that I’m OK – because, today at
least, I am.
But all that will have to unfold over the
coming months. Today, I want to whittle
it down to one thing I hope you can take away with you this morning, as we
begin this Lenten preaching series on one of the biggest questions we face: “Who
am I?”
That’s the kind of question God is hoping
we’ll ask ourselves in this annual season of self-examination and repentance: Who
am I? Our various affiliations would lead
us to answer that question many different ways. Who am I … in relation to my family? In relation to my profession? In relation to my friends? In relation to my country? In relation to my culture? In relation to my faith? All those intersections contribute to our
sense of identity and our sense of allegiance: Who am I, where does that identity
come from, and whom do I owe my deepest loyalty?
I’ve had to stare down questions like
these over the past month. Maybe other
members of the Widow’s Club here this morning have done the same. It begins with disbelief that the core of your
heart has been emptied. That moves into
disorientation that comes from baffling questions, everything from what to do
with the body when you leave the hospital to what you might want to keep from closets
full of clothes and drawers full of jewelry. Once the funeral is over, you find the
questions going deeper. I was a
spouse – am I still? I’m a parent – how
do I do that alone? In my case, I’m a
parish leader – can I still carry that responsibility? I’m a spokesperson for the God who promises to
heal us – can I still make that claim with authenticity when my own spouse
didn’t recover? When your world shakes –
and it happens for each of us, one way or another – it makes you ask questions
you never wanted to ask. But we have to
ask and answer them honestly, whether our lives are at a turning point or on
autopilot, because it’s the real questions – the ones that keep us up at
night – that help us grow into the image and likeness of the God who made us.
As it turns out, Lent is here just in time
to help us hold hard questions like these. And we start our Lenten time of discovering our
way by overhearing Jesus as he struggles with his own questions of “Who am I?”
The first thing that stops me short in today’s
Gospel reading is the fact that Jesus’ wilderness time is no accident. It doesn’t come from some tragic event but
from … “the Spirit” (Luke 4:1). Wait,
what? Yes, you heard it right: The Holy
Sprit leads Jesus into “the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by
the devil” (4:1-2).
So, the devil – hmmm … not some cartoon
character but the Gospel writer’s representation of the very real power of sin
and evil and death – the devil steps into this opportune time … which, of
course, is what the power of sin and evil and death does best. This power of all that is not Love meets Jesus
where he is, in the ugliest sense. “You’re the Son of God,” the power of not-Love
says. “Give yourself something to eat. Avoid this trial that’s supposed to form you. Have dinner instead.” But Jesus says, “One does not live by bread
alone” (4:4). Instead, real life,
meaningful life, is about much more than getting your needs met.
So, Jesus presses on through his
wilderness time, continuing to fast and set aside his fully human needs. But in a while, the power of not-Love comes
back for a new assault. In an instant, the
devil shows Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world” (4:5); and the power of
not-Love says, “Hey, look, if you were in charge of all this, think how good
life could be – for them and for you. Avoid the pain. Forget this time in the wilderness; forget the
years of struggle to come; forget the ugly road of suffering and death. If you give your allegiance me,” the devil
says, “you can fast-forward to what you’ve always wanted.” But Jesus says, “Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him” (4:8), because there is no shortcut, no express lane to the
kingdom. To live into the fullness of
who God has made you to be, you’ve got to do the long, slow, slogging work of
faithful living, honoring God in each day you’re given, until you find,
remarkably, that God’s given you precisely what you needed.
So, Jesus rests in that assurance a while
more out there in the wilderness, able to make it one day to the next. And finally, the power of not-Love visits him one
last time, asking him the hardest question there is, the deep “Who are you?”
that can leave us shaking in our boots. “You
say you believe in God,” not-Love says. “You pray to an invisible friend who seems to
dole out pain as much as pleasure. You
plead for what you need, and the answer just as often comes back ‘no’ as ‘yes.’
You say you’re God’s beloved child – are
you sure? Do you really believe it? Does the evidence back it up? Well,” the devil says, “if you think so, prove
it – prove you’re God’s beloved. Prove that
the angels really will show up to save you if you throw your life away.” But Jesus says, “It is written, ‘Do not put
the Lord your God to the test’” (4:12). The
power of Love doesn’t come because you’ve got some money-back guarantee. The power of Love comes to you precisely
because you trust that it will.
So, who is Jesus in this story? Well, as people of our culture, I think we see
Jesus as a superhero – Ironman battling the devil in the wilderness. Of course we see Jesus that way. Maybe the most pernicious not-God to which we
give our allegiance is the false gospel of individualism. “If I just learn the right thing, if I just buy
the right thing, if I just gain the right skill, I can overcome anything. And those who can’t? Well, they just don’t have as much on the
ball.” That’s what our culture tells us.
So, of course we see Jesus as the
ultimate rugged individualist, so strong he can take on even the devil himself
– and win.
But here’s where the story undercuts our worship
of individualism. Jesus is not in the
wilderness alone. Jesus is the second
person of the Trinity, as the theologians say – the Son, right? Well, the deep mystery of the Trinity is that
God is Three in One and One in Three. So, Jesus is never alone. Now, in the fullness of his humanity, he feels
that way sometimes – especially hanging there on the cross. But even then, and certainly out there in the
wilderness, Jesus is not dealing with the demons on his own. The Spirit has brought him there. And the Creator has made the wilderness,
formed it as a tool to form God’s people, even God’s Son. The wilderness is part of what makes Jesus who
he is, part of what makes each of us who we are. And maybe the most important lesson the
wilderness teaches us is this: Myself, I am powerless to defeat sin and evil
and death. I can’t hang in there on my
own when the demons come. When the easy
way seems tempting, or when the road seems impossibly rocky, or when beloved fellow
travelers leave us – when we’re under assault, what gets us through is trusting
in the power of Love that never leaves us. For it’s only Love that defeats sin and evil
and death, and Love is a team sport. The
battle in the wilderness is not a battle I can win on my own. But it is a battle we can win together,
if we trust that the power of Love has got our back.
If I know nothing else today, at the end
of this awful month, I know this: that two conflicting things can both be true.
Jesus is fully human and fully divine. God is a unity and a relationship. The wilderness is hostile and healing. Ann is dead and yet alive. I am alone, and I am embraced. My heart is broken, and my heart is being healed
by God’s love – love that I know through you. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever
shall be, we are not alone. For the
power of Love has always got your back.
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