Lent 1 2026

(Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7, Matthew 4: 1-11)

In the Gospel passage we heard read today, Jesus was led out into the wilderness.

He has just been baptised by John in the Jordan, and a voice from heaven has

announced “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him”. He was probably around 30

years old at this point, and we know almost nothing of his life in those first three

decades, other than that he seems to have been learning Joseph’s trade as a

carpenter and builder.

But at some point, Jesus realised that he had a job to do, a calling to fulfil, a calling

that would empower the powerless, but as a result of that, would bring him into

conflict with those in authority. It would have been obvious to anyone looking on that

a calling like this would lead to pain and suffering. After all, Rome didn’t get where it

was, to the top of the tree of power in the ancient world, by being soft on its

opponents, and the Jewish authorities, who were trying to keep Rome happy,

weren’t likely to welcome challenge either. There’s no reason to think that Jesus

knew that in any detail what was going to happen – he wouldn’t have been human if

he did – but whatever the future held, he has to have known that it was going to be

tough and lead to his death. 

And that was what Jesus was doing in the wilderness, pondering that future. I expect

we have all spent time in our own wildernesses pondering. The “wild” in “wilderness”

is significant here. The Judean desert where he spent those 40 days and nights was

a hard place to be. It was barren, waterless, exposed, baking during the day,

freezing at night and inhospitable. It was a place of wild animals - scorpions, snakes,

bears, wolves - and of wild people too. The bandits, outlaws, people driven away

from settled society for whatever reason. In the thinking of Jesus’s time, it was also

the home of demons, a place of conflict and danger. Jesus wasn’t being led there for

some peace and quiet, he was heading straight for the spiritual frontline. That of

temptation.

Jesus’ earthly ministry, then, begins as it will end. In the wilderness, as on the cross,

he is alone, afraid, vulnerable, hungry and thirsty and at the mercy of the uncaring

forces around him. And it’s here that he’s tempted to find an easy way out; to use

the tactics of the worldly leaders he sees around him to avoid the suffering he sees

coming. The emperors and kings of his world – and ours too – who puff themselves

up to try to look big in the face of danger. They pile up wealth - turning stones to

bread. They make alliances with other powerful people - bowing down to the devil.

They boast that they are untouchable, invincible, immortal, that nothing can touch

them, that they could take any risk and get away with it, in the hopes of convincing

people not to even think of defying them. But ultimately those tactics are illusions.

Even if they work for a while, and they come at a high cost, corrupting and

destroying the world and the peoples around them. Eventually though that kind of

behaviour catches up with them too.

This isn’t the pattern God calls his Son to follow, and Jesus’ time in the desert

confirms that. Jesus isn’t called to protect himself, to look strong, or to dazzle those

around him by his displays of power. He isn’t called to manoeuvre and manipulate.

Jesus is called to trust in his Father’s love, to trust that when he is weak, God is with

him. That when he is struggling, God is with him, and when he is suffering and

dying, God is with him, so that all of us who are weak, struggling, suffering and dying

know that the same is true of us. He answers the temptations that Satan puts before

him, not by pointing to his own strength, wisdom or resourcefulness, but by pointing

to the love and faithfulness of his Father. 

In a sense, this passage is a direct counterpart - the anti-story if you like - to our first

reading. There Adam and Eve are tempted to believe that they can go it alone, that

they can be “like God, knowing good and evil”. They are tempted to believe that God

doesn’t really love them, that he was lying when he forbade them to eat from that

particular tree, just trying to keep them subservient to him. Jesus chooses to believe

the opposite, that he is loved, whatever happens, that he doesn’t have to do it all or

have it all, and that is what carries him through all that he faces.

We never know what is around the corner. It’s tempting to see Lent as a time to

build up our spiritual strength, so that we can cope with anything life throws at us,

like the spiritual superheroes we would like to be. But actually, I wonder whether

Lent might be the opposite. Our collect for today asked God that, “as you know our

weakness, so may we know your power to save.” I wonder whether Lent is really , a

time to get used to the idea that, ultimately, we can’t cope, and that we don’t need

to. That we will all fail and fall, but that when that happens, we will still be safe,

because we will know we are held by the grace of the God whose faithfulness is

eternal. 

Amen