Study, Learn and Grow: Looking into the lectionary

1st Sunday in Lent

I picture Jesus, on the cusp of his public ministry, feeling empowered from his baptism and God's affirming word, following the Spirit, hopeful, confident of his divine purpose and eager to get to work.


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Without hesitation, I imagine Jesus bounding after the Spirit... into the wilderness. At this point, does Jesus pause and look around, note the less than hospitable surroundings and think, "Huh, this wasn't what I expected, but, hey, the Spirit surely knows the best way to go, so no worries"? Then we get the next verb in the sentence: tempted. I suppose Jesus' awareness of this next part of the plot is limited. Maybe, he thinks, this wilderness trek is merely the shortest way to the town where things will really get started for his preaching, teaching and healing. How is he feeling at this point of the journey? Next thing you know, the devil shows up. I can almost hear the sinister music coming to a crescendo as the tempter makes that first pitch to derail Jesus from his holy vocation.

Every first Sunday of Lent I get reminded of the perils of our baptismal calling. The Spirit descends, God speaks and then almost immediately, before we've even dried off, the devil makes a counteroffer: Wouldn't you prefer a shortcut to resources and power? Don't you want to be affirmed by the masses, afforded status and special treatment? Doesn't a guarantee of no pain and suffering sound good to you? Beloved child of God is good, but invincibility and limitless wealth, isn't that much better?

I once had a mentor who said to expect pushback from unexpected quarters when you start down a path you believe to be of God's leading. Doing the work of the Lord attracts the attention of the devil, he said.

Jesus, we know, does not give into temptation. Firing back Scripture to the evil one well-versed in the word of God. Even famished, after 40 days of fasting, Jesus turns his back on the tempter's wares. We do not live by bread alone, but by the word that comes from the mouth of God. Sounds so lovely and yet a little far fetched in the face of Jesus', and the world's, real hunger. Do not put the Lord your God to the test. Sound advice, to be sure, but how often are we consciously testing God? Aren't we normally oblivious to the myriad of ways we try God through our daily inability to trust God's providence and promises? Worship the Lord your God and serve only God. Of course, of course. We know this basic, primary rule of faith. Idolatry is out. Loyalty to God and God alone is the goal. And yet, how often does our life reflect this first commandment?

Jesus gets it right and we are not surprised. We read in Hebrews 4 that Jesus "in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin." That last part of the sentence is surely significant, setting Jesus apart in a way to which we cannot relate. And yet, we ought to take solace in knowing Jesus experienced hunger and pain, loss, grief and even the urge to do and be less than who he really was. His ability to withstand temptation does not negate his experience of standing face to face with evil and all its seemingly glorious offerings.

As we stand at the beginning of Lent, this season that calls for an honest assessment of ourselves and our discipleship, we can linger in the wilderness a while with Jesus, watching as he responds to the devil, affirming that God's Word is meant for good, refusing to capitulate to lesser loyalties and enduring real hunger, real depravation, real temptation in order to aid us in our real suffering and finitude. This story of Jesus and Satan in the wilderness allows us to hold nothing back from our confession and lament. Jesus knows our pain and empathizes with our weakness. This wilderness before the ministry scene shows us, his followers, that Jesus will stand and face with us during our biggest mistakes, our greatest losses, our gravest fears, our most devastating disappointments. After all, he endured the devil and prevailed.

I have come to view the liturgical season of Lent not only as a time of confession and repentance, but also an invitation to lay bare to our Lord all that we most want to hide from God, ourselves and others. I need to know Jesus can handle my shame and guilt, my pettiness and anxieties, my dashed dreams and my secret fears. I need to know Jesus is with me, utterly, completely and unequivocally in the most terrifying wilderness of my life. I need to know that when I give in to temptation, Jesus will, in fact, deliver me from the evil he survived and defeated.

Confident that indeed the grace of God abounds for many, for everyone, knowing that through Jesus' act of righteousness I am justified, I can therefore pour out my heart and hold nothing back from the One who defeated the devil in the wilderness and evil on the cross.

As we embark on our Lenten discipline, as we confess and repent, we can find comfort and strength in the sure and certain knowledge that the Word of God will nourish us, the power of God will uphold us and the worship of God will strengthen and direct us. No less than Jesus himself will remain with us throughout these 40 days, praying for us, tending to us, standing with us when we stand up to evil and forgiving us when we succumb to the devil's temptations.

This week:

When you have you been in the wilderness? What tempted you there? How were you sustained?
What is your Lenten discipline this year? What do you hope to learn over these 40 days?
Of the three temptations Jesus faced, which one do you find the most difficult to resist? What about our congregations and culture?
What do you need to share boldly with God during this season? Are there aspects of yourself or your life you want to invite God to change?
What is significant to you about this time Jesus endured in the wilderness?
What does it mean to you that you are justified by Jesus' righteous act?

Do we mean what we sing?

Sacred songs help to train emotions. They give voice not only to words expressing thankfulness, repentance and hope, but also to melodies, rhythms and memories that variously tug at or lift up our hearts.

Read the full article by Mel Bringle