“Will That Be On the Test?”

First Sunday in Lent

March 6, 2022

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Luke 4:1-13

In J. R. R. Tolkein’s fantastical work, “The Lord of the Rings,” there is a point in which Frodo, the ring-bearer, finds himself among the elven folk of Lothlorien. Galadriel is the queen of these elves, and has long desired to lay hands upon the ring of power. She summons Frodo in the middle of the night with intentions—to either grab the ring or deny herself that power—she doesn’t know quite yet.

As she shares with Frodo the various consequences of his quest—whether he wins or loses, he finds the future too much to bear. He offers her the ring. He suspects that maybe she would be a better keeper of it than he would. Maybe she could control its dark pull with her elvish powers. She responds with imaginings of might and power and greatness and terror. She realizes that even with good intentions, anyone to take the ring would end up being controlled by the desire for more might, more power, more greatness, and yes, more terror.

So, she declines and says, “I have passed the test.” She will remain Galadriel and turn away from the chance to be a mighty queen. It takes a lot of courage to walk away from that which seems so good—so easy—so obvious. Especially when the alternative is not so good—at least in the short-term.

You see, the tests awaiting Jesus in the wilderness represent tests that humanity has faced since the beginning of time—since the Garden and the tree and humanity’s desire to be like God. They are the tests that ask us what we believe about ourselves and what we believe about God. And rather than answer with words, our actions speak volumes.

 The Holy Spirit—the One who empowered Jesus at his baptism—is the Spirit that leads him in and through the wilderness for 40 days. Forty days without food. Forty days, listening to the devil whisper evil nothings into his ear. Forty days, like the forty years the Israelites spent in the desert, utterly dependent upon the Creator for all of life. But the verb that Luke uses in Greek implies that the Spirit didn’t just lead him to the wilderness and leave him there, but that She was continually leading him. He was never truly alone or on his own.

When the devil drops the bomb on him, he starts with basic bodily need. Much like Maslow’s hierarchy, it’s hard to worry about other things when the body is unable to function. Jesus is hungry, and the devil has a quick fix for that. “Since you are the Son of God”—I know our translation says ‘if,’ but many scholars suggest ‘since,’ meaning Jesus’ identity isn’t in question; just what he’s going to do with it. “Since you are the Son of God, speak this stone into bread.” Hey, man. You got the power. Say it, and it’ll happen. Just like God speaking in the beginning. It’s easy. I dare you.

Jesus doesn’t argue about whether or not he can—or even should—do it. He just points out that bread isn’t everything. He sees the other needs on that hierarchy: compassion, integrity, relationship, family, purpose. He’s not willing to lose those just to meet his immediate need. He sees the bigger picture.

But I think that’s easier said than done. How often do we look for quick fixes to long-term problems? Let me remind you about the DART process (DART meaning Direct Action and Response Training) that I referred to a few weeks ago. Most of our ministries are mercy ministries. They approach our work with a bunch of bandaids trying to bind a severed limb when what we need are justice ministries. Food pantries and housing assistance doesn’t address the real problems—only the symptoms. A new prison doesn’t address the real problem. They merely feed our self-interest.

But what if we actually addressed a bigger problem? What if we addressed the justice system? Oh, that’s so much harder. And inconvenient. If done right, it would mean taking apart so much of the flimsy structure we’ve been patching and adding onto for decades in order to tackle today’s issues without being restrained by the prejudices of the past.

Or let’s look at the gas prices—which are ridiculous. However, so many people are pushing for more oil and more pipelines in order to lower the prices (quick-fix band-aid) rather than doing the hard and expensive work of promoting sustainable fuel and practices. That’s going to take a lot of time and money. But would we rather pay less for gas prices now or live on an earth that can no longer sustain life later? Maybe it sounds extreme, but I think these are the issues at hand. Speak the stone into bread. Eat. Take care of your current discomfort. Don’t worry about the repercussions.

The second test is less overt about Jesus’ identity. The devil says, “Listen, I’ve been given power over all these empires. Give your allegiance to me, and this could all be yours.” First of all, this promise to give Jesus all power and glory is such a joke. He already has access to all things. John tells us, “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” And in Acts, Paul says, “In him we live and move and have our being.”

So, obviously the reign of Christ already covers all kingdoms, all creation—but in time. I’m reminded of the J.P. Wentworth commercial where people obnoxiously holler, “It’s my money; and I want it now!” But God doesn’t work that way. We don’t get to make demands as if we have somehow negotiated a deal with God, and now it’s God’s turn to hold up to God’s end of the bargain. So then, where do we turn when we don’t get what we want? What addictions and toxic relationships do we take on as we pretend we’re in control? What do we make our allegiance to that promises us results and at least lets us believe that it will acquiesce to our demands, if we’re loud enough?

The invasion of Ukraine and Putin’s self-centered desire to gain more, destroy more, and hold more in the name of power and glory is a perfect example. And yet, both Ukraine’s president and the people of the nation have stood their ground in defiance—not only in opposition of death but in the pursuit of life. Life that recognizes their autonomy and culture and past. Life that emphasizes their identity.

Finally, the devil leads Jesus to Jerusalem—an ominous sentence of itself—and dares him to jump from the Temple. Because, you know, God will send angels to protect him. He’s the golden boy—the poster child—the holy one. God won’t let anything bad happen to him. In Jerusalem. And again, Jesus doesn’t take the bait. He knows quite well, we assume, that his ministry and journey will eventually lead him down the path to Jerusalem. And to his death. And God won’t stop it. Not because God doesn’t care, but because God cares so much—about the whole world.

These tests hinge on identity: What you believe about yourself and what you believe about God. So, what do we believe about ourselves? Are our needs greater than another’s? Are our desires more important than another’s? Is our discomfort now worth the livelihood of multitudes—including ourselves or our descendants—later?  Here…eat. Don’t worry about that other stuff—those other people.

Do we have something to prove? Do we want others to cower, to acknowledge our greatness, to be loyal out of fear? Here…take the kingdoms. Why not? They’d be better off, wouldn’t they?

Do we think we’ve got God over a barrel? Have we said the right prayers, made the right confessions, gotten enough baptisms, and ascribe to the right beliefs to ensure that God will protect us from all harm? Who needs resurrection if God won’t let you die.

Here’s the good news—the exact same news that Jesus held to. You already are and have always been God’s beloved child. There is nothing on this earth that wasn’t created for your goodness. You don’t need to hoard it or grab it or fight to get more. All that you truly need is already yours.

And you, child of God, have been created to bless and ensure life for the other. You don’t have to be better to be loved. And they don’t have to earn that love, either. The people you don’t understand, don’t like, don’t want to be around—Putin himself—are all precious to God. And yet, that won’t stop death. Because death isn’t the enemy. Fear usually takes that role.

You see, when the devil told Jesus to eat because he was hungry, Jesus knew it would only serve himself for a short time. Instead, on the side of a mountain, he fed over 5,000 people, not only with bread but with his teachings, healings, and grace. That’s the kind of food that lasts.

When the devil offered Jesus the glory to rule all the kingdoms, Jesus wasn’t taken in. He knew that glory doesn’t come with privilege or position. Glory, which belongs only to God, would be shown through his honorable and self-less death on a cross. For the sake of the world. A glory that couldn’t be grabbed at—only given.

And when the devil dared Jesus to jump, Jesus knew that saving his own life would never accomplish his mission. In fact, his words and actions would continue to put him in peril until his death. But if death isn’t the enemy, then it also isn’t the last word. Instead, true and abundant life would be given him in the resurrection—that is the only salvation that really matters.

Jesus knew who he was. He knew his Father’s heart. And he knew he was never alone. Neither are you. God is with you through the testing. And you’d be surprised how often you reflect your God-given identity in how you respond—with grace, humility, patience, and love.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE