A Poem of Temptation
Lent 1A | Matthew 4:1-11
God had him trade water for sand.
He walked up to John. That was him.
Everything that followed is something
else, someone else. First is the Baptizer,
standing in the Jordan, freeing many.
That’s his work (John that is). Baptizing,
freeing. Calling people out here, into
the wilderness; leaving everything behind
to follow a new path. That’s some
preaching, folks! To pull people away
from what’s killing them, only to invite
them into a new death. A death to themselves.
To be reborn: something else. That is John’s
work. Until he’s arrested. And it becomes
Jesus’s. But that’s all later. This is now.
Jesus walked up and John took over,
dunking him in the water, pushing him
down into the depths—the life giver which
takes it away—dying there to be reborn
free of sin, separation—to align him again.
The dove, the voice, the Spirit whisks him away.
And now he’s in the wilderness. Far from
the water of life. This place bears the stench
of death. The cold heat of desert and the
course sand storms replace the smooth
cadence of the running river with grit under
the cloak and up the sleeves. His day turns
to the ritual discomfort of quarantine,
isolated and alone for God knows how long.
He may be God in the flesh but he has no clue
what the Father has in mind. Well…that’s
not exactly true…I’m sure he has a clue.
When the Tempter arrives, he shows no
surprise, no fear or anxiety. A posture we
might mistake for strength or poise, those
attributes which celebrate individual
achievement, rather than confidence. That
particular kind of confidence that comes
when we trust someone else and just
know that they will be there.
The Tempter fails.
Not because he is terrible at his job,
but because Jesus is never tempted.
What the Tempter offers gets everyone
who has ever lived! It is fool-proof!
There was a zero percent chance that
the Son of Humanity could resist—
For this is sin itself—and our very
humanity! He’s tweaked the algorithm
to feast off our desire for dopamine.
He’s created the first Facebook for
the socially-starved and Instagram
for the influence-deprived. No one
has the power to resist power.
If he’s human at all, he’s got no
chance. Except…Jesus isn’t swayed.
He doesn’t resist. That’s not it!
Resistance is power of a different sort,
but it is, nonetheless, power. And
power can’t resist power any more
than fire can fight fire. It is of the
same substance. Still, Jesus isn’t
swayed. Because he isn’t tempted.
He is confident in God. Trusts God.
He needs no power himself. It is
not really about him after all.
He shows us that. When we watch.
And tells us that. When we listen.
We make it about him because he
shows us the Way. Because the Way
is his purpose. And we follow the
Way because that brings us to God.
So it isn’t about Jesus, but we do
need to make it about Jesus. So we
can trust him as he trusts God.
Power erodes trust. Yet we lust for it.
Safety and security, control and certainty.
Every little desire we have drives us away
from the path, steers us into temptation.
This is our cultural algorithm. Our desire
for kings and to be the king. For wealth
and to become wealthy. To be changeless
Like a God.
To control our world.
Like a God.
To make our world into our own image.
Like a God.
But not like our God.
Our God of love. Hope. Redemption.
Who heals and drives us to be a source
of that divine spark; to make this
world more like our God’s through
invitation, not coercion. Through hope
and liberation rather than will and
domination. The Realm of Man, the
Kingdoms of Earth. So very unlike the
Dream of God: the Kin-dom of Heaven.
There is no temptation when we have
confidence in God. In Jesus. And this
whole divine project. In this Way of Love.
Untempted, Jesus shows his place, like
the grit that defeats the oiled machine—
the Tempter never had a chance.
With Jesus, at least. His tricks still work
on us, I’m afraid. But not when we
are truly like Jesus. Confident in him,
making his way our way. Then we’re less
tempted. Less addicted to desire and
control. We fast. And we become free.