Sermon Delivered at Christ Church

The Weekend of February 9th & 10th, 2008

TEXT:  Matthew 4:1-11

Delivered by Paul A. Johnson

 

********************

 

              We have a birthday coming up in our household.  In two weeks our youngest son turns thirteen, so that for the first time all three of our sons will be teenagers.

              Now I’ll tell you…I’m glad my son is turning thirteen.  We’ve had a lot of fun with our kids in their teenage years, and after all—turn thirteen is exactly what a twelve year-old is supposed to do.  The next thing he’s supposed to do after that is turn fourteen.  Kids start little, and they grow up.  That’s what they do.  And while I can assure you that there are things I miss about them being babies and little kids, I also know they weren’t supposed to stay like that forever.  They’re supposed to grow up; and they’re supposed to learn new things; and they’re supposed to mature; and they’re supposed to become different; and they’re supposed to become their own persons.  It’s hard to let go, but at some point, growing up means no longer being an extension of one’s mother or father; but instead, growing up means becoming one’s own self.

              That’s how it works.  So it seems that while it was once our job as parents to make sure our children got their diapers changed; as our children get older it seems our job is to stay connected with them as best we can, while at the same time we step back and give them some freedom to discover who they are.  We know that if the maturity of the souls and spirits of our children is to match the maturity of their bodies, then as parents we have to start stepping away a little bit.  It isn’t easy to do.  But we know it’s pretty difficult to ever grow up without having some freedom to make one’s own decisions—freedom to make right choices, but also freedom to make wrong choices.  There is pain, of course, when those we love make wrong choices; and there is the temptation to rush in and fix it, whatever “it” is.  But though we may want to, we know deep down that we can’t, and that giving our children more freedom is essential for our kids to become the adults they’re supposed to.  It’s one of the ways we love our kids as they mature—step back, let them figure it out, let them make their choices, because every time they do so their identity comes more into formation, and they become more of who they are intended to be.

              So it is that Jesus goes into the desert and does battle with the Devil.  And what I would suggest is that on one level, what’s at stake is our freedom; and the possibility that we can be something other than spiritual infants.  What’s at stake, even, is our humanity and salvation.

              Immediately after Jesus is baptized by John, he goes into the desert.  He is led there by the Spirit, is what it says.

              The desert is a special place for Israel.  It’s where they go to be confronted both by who they are, and by who God is.  For Israel, if you want to be found by God, or find God, the place to go is the wilderness.  It’s like that because the wilderness is barren.  In the wilderness—we are removed from every structure that supports the lives we live.  No family; no friends; no job; no house; and for Jesus, no food.  He fasts. 

In the desert, we’re on our own.  And as it was for Israel when they were in the desert, Jesus is tested.  That’s a more accurate understanding of the word translated as “tempted.”  In the wilderness, the devil came to him, and gave him a test.

Now preachers love this passage because it lends itself so easily to a traditional three-part sermon.  There is the first test, which means “x”; and the second test, which means “y”; and the third test, which means “z”.  And as Jesus is tested in these ways, so are we.  Over the years, I’ve heard and read some really good sermons that are set up this way.

But sometimes, the parts don’t equal the whole.  In this case, put them all together, and I think the test the Devil gives Jesus is this:  “Come on, Jesus.  Take the shortcut, and make it easy on them…”

Let me interpret what happens here a little bit…

In the first go around, the Devil says to Jesus:  “Use your power.  Make some bread.  Feed yourself.  Feed all the other hungry people, too.  Be relevant in a massive fashion; in the way that matters most.  No one will turn away from a Messiah who fills their stomachs.” That’s the first test.

              Here’s the second.  “Use your power.  Give a spectacle!  Show off to everybody—at the Temple, where it matters most—show off exactly who you are.  When they see those angels catch you, no one will turn away.  No one will be able to resist you.”

              Here’s the third.  “Give me your allegiance,” says the Devil, “and I’ll make you king of the world.  And when you’re king, it won’t make a difference whether or not you give them bread or circuses.  When you are king, they will have to do whatever you tell them to do.  When you’re king of the world, because you are king of the world, they will have to obey you.  And isn’t that what you want?”

You see, the Devil tempts Jesus that maybe saving the world doesn’t have to be as hard as Jesus wants to make it.  The temptation is that maybe, there’s an easier way…if he would just stop being so human.  If he would just give a few displays of great power, and everyone would say “yes.” Maybe, everyone would have to say yes.  If he would just stop being so human…

              You see, we human beings—there are a bunch of things we can’t do.  Among them are turn stones into bread; jump off buildings and get caught by angels; and make ourselves be king of the world.  So if Jesus would simply shed the limits of humanity—if he would just muscle up and take the shortcut and use his power as the Son of God—it could all be over so much more quickly and painlessly.  Everybody would get on board!  There’d be no stopping this Messiah.

              You see, that’s the temptation.  That’s the tension, and those are the stakes.  In the Garden of Eden, the serpent tempts Adam and Eve to be like God, and they give in.  In the desert, the Devil tempts Jesus the same way, and he resists.

              He won’t play that game.  When he says “no” to the Devil he declares that weakness, not power, is the path he will take because it is the path we must take.  Adam and Eve cannot be like God.  They reach for a divinity they can not have.  But in the desert, Jesus embraces the humanity God created, with all its limitations.

              He will accept hunger, just as we accept hunger;

              He will walk the long path, just as we walk the long path;

              He will live under the power of others, just as we live under the power of others;

              He won’t hide from the pain, just as we can’t hide from the pain;

              The Devil tempts him to take the easy way; to step out of the messy life of humanity.  And by withstanding the test Jesus replies “I’m staying right here, with the ones I love; like the ones I love; and if it means giving them the freedom to say “yes” or “no” to me, then so be it…”

              Here’s how much God loves humanity:  Enough to be human, and enough to let us be human, with all that means.; enough to not force our hand; enough to let us be free.  The freedom God gave Adam and Eve and they misused is the freedom he protects in the desert.

              The path to God is sometimes a convoluted one.  It doesn’t always go in straight lines.  So let me tell you something that may sound crazy…The Lord loves us so much that God will let us say “no” if that’s the only path we can take to “yes.”  I don’t think for a moment that is the answer God wants us to give.  But God will live with it as long as is necessary for us.  God made this decision the first time with Adam and Eve in the Garden, when the Lord gave them the freedom to walk freely, even if it meant biting the apple.  And the Lord defended this decision in the desert, choosing the path of human limitations rather than supernatural extravagance.

              You know that phrase, “If you love something, let it go?” God invented it, and lived it.  Lent is all about coming back, and coming home, and responding to God’s love.  That’s what Lenten disciplines are all about.  Goodness gracious, God just keeps calling.  I hope we know that.  In my Ash Wednesday message I said we can always come home, and that is absolutely true.

But God knows better than we do that the real love worth having is the love freely given.  So it is that Jesus remains fully human.  He will not turn stones into bread, or be caught by angels, or take the shortcut to power so that we’ll all be good disciples.  He won’t cheat humanity, and force our hand.  Instead, he’ll suck it up in the desert and go one on one with the Devil; and down the road, he’ll meet the challenge one more time, agree to take the cup given to him, and be stuck on a cross.  For our sakes, like every other human being, he will go to the place of death where we all have to go and burst out on the other side so that like him, we don’t have to stay there.  In the desert he resists the temptation we couldn’t in Eden, and chooses weakness over power.  He chooses the same frail path we walk so that the “yes” we give is one given freely…because that’s the kind of “yes” that matters.

“Because I love you,” we tell our kids, “I will let you be free.  Encourage you to be free.  I will let you grow up.  I will let you take risks, and even make mistakes.  You can always come home, but I will let you be free.”

Well, God loves us more than we love our kids.  And if we are that good with our children, then God is even more good with us.  How much does God love us?  How much does God desire us?  Enough to let Adam and Eve be free to make a mistake; enough to pass the test, and remain human in the desert; enough to die on a cross, rather than snap it in two, because that’s the only way we could all know resurrection.  Enough to let us be free, and even grow up a little, so that when the “yes” finally comes, it is truly a “yes”—of the heart, and of the mind, and of the will—given not because we are forced by God, but because we are loved by God.