First Sunday in Lent

My path to ordained ministry was not the easiest. And I suppose that was due in part to the fact that I was a little unusual. Big surprise, there. I was not the stereotypical “pipeline student”, going directly from college to seminary, knowing exactly what I wanted to do and how I was going to go about doing that. Nor was I the typical “second career student”, being active in the church for many years and demonstrating gifts for ministry, having the active encouragement of an influential pastor or lay person, prodding me forward. I came to the chairperson of the candidacy committee completely out of the blue, with long hair and a goatee, and earrings, in a time when such accoutrements were not typical for a seminary candidate. My sense of call was not clearly demonstrated to those around me over a period of time, but came to me suddenly in a powerful experience of God’s grace. I was highly introverted at the time, and I didn’t have the theological vocabulary I needed to be able to express myself clearly when I did muster up the courage to answer questions with more than just a few words. Clearly, there were questions about me as a candidate. But the big question was really a very simple one, and it’s the same question that members of the candidacy committee must ask themselves even today: “What kind of a pastor is this person going to be?”

A similar question is being asked of Jesus. What we see this morning is Jesus’ testing in the wilderness. But what precedes this episode of testing is Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan at the hands of his cousin, John. Luke 3:21, 22   Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.  And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." And then follows the writer’s genealogy of Jesus which starts with the words, “Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work. He was the son (as was thought) of Joseph son of Heli, 24 son of Matthat, son of Levi, son of Melchi, son of…” Well, you get the idea. And fifteen verses and lots of “sons of” later, it ends with the words, “son of Enos, son of Seth, son of Adam, son of God.”

So, the big question is, what kind of a son is he going to be? It’s an even bigger question than we might realize, because “son of God” was not just any old title, to be thrown about with wild abandon. “Son of God” was one of the official titles of Caesar. To apply such a title to another individual would have been seen as a direct challenge to the authority of Caesar and the legitimacy of his rule. So, this was no small thing. In fact, it was a huge thing. People were routinely executed for lesser offenses.

The question of what kind of son Jesus is going to be is a critical question for everyone. It’s a critical question for the Roman authorities. It’s a critical question for the primarily Jewish audience of the gospel of Luke. It’s a critical question for us.

There are all kinds of things in the gospel of Luke that would have made a Jewish audience sit up and take notice. For example, there’s the use of the word “exodus” in the story of the transfiguration from last week. We see the same kind of thing going on in today’s story. There’s a lot of symbolism in the story of Jesus’ testing in the desert. He’s in the wilderness for forty days. Clearly, it’s an echo of the experience of the people of Israel wandering in the wilderness for forty years. The author draws a parallel and invites a comparison between the experience of Jesus and the collective experience of Israel. In this comparison we see that there’s much that sets apart Jesus from Israel. Israel was tested in the wilderness and was found lacking. They continually doubted God’s wisdom. The continually questioned God’s ability to provide for them. They continually attempted to assert themselves and their desires over God and God’s desire. Put plainly, Jesus fares much better.

A lot of times, this episode of Jesus’ time in the desert is framed in terms of obedience. We’re told that the lesson of this story is that Jesus is obedient to God’s will. And that we should likewise be obedient to God’s will. But as a good Lutheran, or at least a passable one, I’ve got to say that I think that’s a poor application of the story.

First, such an application is entirely dependent upon us. We turn ourselves into Israel in the desert, continually wanting to wrest control from God. Always trying to make the whole thing hinge upon us and our ability to make things right.

Second, there’s no grace in such an application of this story. Because if we frame the whole thing in terms of our ability to be obedient, then we open ourselves to receiving the whole, crushing weight of the entire law when we fail (and we will fail), to be obedient enough. Even more so when we’re outright defiant.

But what happens if we instead look at this story in terms of reliance. It’s a subtle shift, which, at first blush, could simply be dismissed as a matter of semantics. One could even go so far as to dismiss it entirely and say that there’s really no difference at all between the two. Obedience, reliance; same difference… If you’re obedient you are being reliant. Well, maybe so… But as I’ve already pointed out, the problem with framing this whole thing in terms of “obedience” is that, in the end, the emphasis falls upon the individual. It’s up to us to be obedient. We become the operative agent. At the very worst, God is deprived of any role to play whatsoever. Or, at the very least, God is reduced to the role of nothing more than a passive observer.

And maybe that’s why we like all this talk of obedience so much. Because if we begin to understand this story as being one of reliance, then before long we must realize that we are not the center of the story. We must realize that we are not the primary actors. We must realize that we are not the center of attention. We are not the stars of our own little drama. And most uncomfortably for us, we must realize that if this is a story of reliance, then we must be reliant upon something or someone. And we. hate. that. Because it means that we really aren’t captains of our own ships. We’re not the masters of our own destiny. Not even close. We are, at best, small children who’ve only just discovered their own willfulness. We want to be on our own. We want to strike out on our own. We want to put our coats on by ourselves. We want to go out into the backyard by ourselves. We want to wander the wilderness by ourselves.

But when something fearsome raises its head?... Then all of a sudden, we come running back. Then we want protection. We want to be able to speak magic words to our magical God in the sky that will drive away the suffering and the uncertainty of our lives. We want to be safe. We want to be protected. We want to be cared for. But only… only for as long as we think we need it.

What kind of a son will Jesus be? In fulfilling his baptismal vocation, Jesus relies fully and completely upon God. At every turn the Devil tests Jesus by presenting him with the very things that would appeal to anyone of us. Food in abundant supply. The power of the kingdoms of the world. And when those two fail, the devil appeals to the ego of Jesus. If you really are God’s son…

And what’s the secret to Jesus’ success? Well, he’s got the whole “son of God” –thing going for him. But in addition to that, it’s his reliance upon God and God’s word. God is his strength. God is his refuge. Jesus doesn’t banish the devil. He doesn’t challenge him to an arm-wrestling match. He doesn’t try to outwit the devil. He doesn’t even really “stand up for himself”, at least not in the way that we usually understand that phrase. Instead, he seeks refuge. He embodies the words of the psalmist: “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.’” Jesus does not defend himself. He is defended by God’s word. Jesus doesn’t have to be strong. God’s word is his strength. Jesus doesn’t have to fight this battle. It’s fought on his behalf by God’s mercy and grace.

What Jesus is showing us is that when we understand our relationship with God in terms of reliance, something amazing happens! Grace happens! When we talk about reliance it immediately begs the question, “reliance upon what or whom?” Our attention is directed away from ourselves and towards God.

What kind of Son will Jesus be?  How will he go about fulfilling his baptismal vocation? There are four books in the bible that answer that question for us. The more pressing question for us is, what about us? What kind of child of God will each of us be? How do we go about fulfilling our baptismal vocation? We can put our trust in all kinds of people and things. Our first choice is generally ourselves. But the psalmist insists upon, and what Jesus so clearly demonstrates, is that there is only one place where we can be truly safe – in the shelter of the Most High.

Like Jesus, like Israel, we are tested. Every day. The connection between Israel's testing and our own is summed up beautifully in the Prayer of the Day: “O Lord God, you led your people through the wilderness and brought them to the Promised Land. Guide us now, so that, following your Son, we may walk safely through the wilderness of this world toward the life you alone can give, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.”

I don’t have to tell you that an awful lot of people in our area and, indeed, across the country are being tested. When we do Ashes to Go, as we did this past Wednesday, one of the things I ask of each person is if they have anything for which they could have prayer. As we were doing Ashes to Go this past Wednesday, the two top requests were: 1- for peace, calm, and an end to the deep divisions in this country; and 2- for those whose employment and, therefore, their very lives, is so up-in-the air right now. Many of our siblings in Christ here, at Calvary, face that same uncertainty.

But what the Psalmist teaches us, and what the example of Jesus teaches us is that we are not alone. We do not stand alone. We know that Israel, in the midst of their wilderness time, felt abandoned. But we also know that, in spite of their feelings to the contrary, God continued to be present with them. We know that Jesus goes into the wilderness “full of the Holy Spirit”. And when Jesus’ time in the wilderness is over, the next verse following the last verse of today’s lesson reports that “Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country.”

Through our baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ, we are called to be God’s children. And as we live out that baptismal vocation, we will encounter many things. We will encounter suffering, we will encounter disappointment, we will encounter feelings of abandonment and hopelessness. And in all circumstances the Holy Spirit, which we receive in baptism remains with us. We are not alone. God is present with us always. Our source, THE source of hope, peace, comfort, and strength. “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, ‘My refuge and my fortress;     my God, in whom I trust.’”

As I just said, through our baptism, we are called to be God’s children, and as we live out that baptismal vocation, we will encounter suffering, disappointment, feelings of abandonment and hopelessness. Thousands of people are experiencing those very feelings. Many of them are right here, right now, in this place. How do we help our siblings in Christ who are experiencing those feelings and the sense of isolation that often comes with them. Just as pressing is the question of how we help them with the very real physical needs that they are now, or will soon be facing? These are not hypotheticals. These are very real, very pressing questions. And I don’t have the answer to those questions. So, thanks be to God that God, in divine wisdom, did not make me the brains of this outfit. God made all of us, collectively, the brains of this outfit. And the heart, and the voice, and the hands, and the feet of this outfit. And if there was ever a clear and pressing call to ministry for this congregation, it is now and we must act.

“You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shade of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.’” Let’s put our heads and our hearts together and figure out how to be that shelter, that shade, that refuge, that fortress for those who need it. AMEN