Sermon: The Hard Way Through

Hebrews 4:14-16

Luke 4:1-13

It’s been a hard week in many ways for many reasons. For those of you who are students, many of you have mentioned that this has been the most stressful week you’ve had this semester. You’ve mentioned paper after paper, and some of you have had as many as three or four tests just this week! It’s been a hard week, and I’ve found myself feeling for you as you talk about how much sleep you’ve lost.

But beyond the routines of school and work-life, this has been a hard week for other reasons too. Two people in our community have close friends who each experienced tragedies in their families this week. Both of these friends – young women at UT - suddenly lost their fathers, two men who died entirely too young. One father was 52, and the other was 46. It’s been a hard week. . . We’ve been praying for these families and grieving alongside them.

And on top of these personal tragedies, there is, of course, a national tragedy that happened right here in Austin this week. Joseph Stack, a software engineer, husband, and father and step-father of two children, released his anger at the I-R-S this week in a horrendous act. On Thursday, he set fire to his house with his wife and step-daughter inside (Thankfully, they made it to safety) and he deliberately rammed his personal plane into the Eschalon building, a building that contains offices for the I-R-S, blowing out windows and filling the place with fire and smoke. The Eschalon building is only three streets away from where Ian and I live, and we pass it twice a day when we take the bus to campus. I’ve personally seen that building this week, and it truly looks like hell. It’s amazing that apart from Joseph Stack, only one person died in that building. Even that number is senseless and too large, but after personally seeing the damage to the building, it’s hard to believe that the others survived. The ongoing damage for those survivors will largely be psychological as they relive that trauma in their memories and come to grips with how someone could make a choice to act in that way.

All of these difficulties have been before us concretely this week. For all of these, and others that go unmentioned, we pray for God’s grace. And we tell the honest truth to ourselves: It’s been a hard week in many ways for many reasons.

And we have this text before us tonight. The Gospel writers tell us in their narratives that Jesus had just experienced a profoundly meaningful affirmation of call – not simply a call of what he would do, but a call about who he is. He was baptized by John in the River Jordan. And in that moment of that baptism, God’s presence was tangible with an experience of holiness and awe. The Holy Spirit came upon Jesus, filling him, and the affirmation was made, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you, I am well-pleased.” Certainly that moment was full of love, awe, and mystery. Certainly that moment was filled with a confirmation of his identity. Certainly that moment was filled with affirmation that who he is will be intimately tied together with what he will do. He will live out this identity. He will act as the one he is.

And then the wilderness. Jesus’ moment of call is followed by the wilderness. For forty days and nights, Jesus lives in the wilderness, experiencing what is common to humanity – what is common to us all - temptation, testing, and yes, difficulty. The translation we read tonight speaks of one who was present with Jesus in that experience - the devil, challenging Jesus, and giving him options of what it means to be the one he is. “If you are the Son of God. . .” the devil says.

Now when we hear this text, we might picture all sorts of caricatures of the devil - caricatures from art, jokes, and Halloween costumes – pictures of a red figure with horns or a pitchfork. But perhaps there are theological caricatures too. . . ways that people talk about a figure called Satan or the devil that we might not be comfortable swallowing. These caricatures get in our way, and we ask, “Is this real?” But apart from the caricatures, the word for devil in this passage literally means an ‘accuser’ or ‘slanderer.’ And certainly, we know from our own experience that accusation and slander can be very real in a time of difficulty. And in this text, accusation and slander take personal form, and we can certainly relate to that apart from any of the caricatures that get in our way. Events and people often make accusations and slander when things get difficult. They often cause what’s difficult. And in our inner life – in our thoughts, emotions, and motivations – we often accuse and slander others. We often accuse and slander ourselves. Certainly in this way the devil – a destructive force of accusation and slander - is very real in our lives.

And this accuser and slanderer was real in Jesus’ experience. Jesus was in the wilderness. He had just come from a moment of affirmation. His identity was confirmed. And now, in the wilderness, the question is not, “Who is he?” but “How will he be the one he is?” Not, “Is he the Son of God?” but “What kind of Son will he be? How will he act upon this identity? How will he be the one he is?”

The devil – the accuser, the slanderer – puts these questions before him in the wilderness. He says, “If you are the Son of God. . .” On the surface, this does seem to be a question of, “Who is he?” “Are you really the Son of God?” But the same phrase in the original Greek text can also mean, “Since you’re the Son of God. . .”

“Since you’re the Son of God, Jesus, why don’t you turn this stone into bread? Why don’t you use your identity for your own purposes? And if you could do that. . . you could certainly feed the multitudes, couldn’t you. . .?

Jesus answers, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

“Since you’re the Son of God, Jesus, why don’t you worship me – the embodiment of accusation, slander, evil. After all, can’t I gain you access to the kingdoms of this world? Why don’t you follow the way I’m setting before you? Simply act in worship and allegiance to my way, and it will all be yours. After all, you’re the Son, the Savior. Simply worship me, and you can save all people of the world, for all their eyes will be upon you. . .”

Jesus answers, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”

“Since you’re the Son of God, Jesus, throw yourself from this temple. After all, is it not written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you’, ¹¹and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone’? What a miracle that would be, Jesus! What a way to reveal your identity to those you have come to save!”

Jesus answers, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

And the text tells us that the accuser, the slanderer, left him until an opportune time.

Jesus was in the wilderness. He knows the wilderness. He knows difficulty. And though we have told ourselves the truth that it has been a hard week in many ways for many reasons, we also tell ourselves this truth tonight: We are accompanied by one who knows the wilderness – one who’s been there, one who knows hardship – one who walked through it not in spite of who he is but because of who he is, because he chose to enter the wilderness with us, to be one of us, to accompany us in every wilderness we face.

The Devil – the accuser, the slanderer – actually acknowledges Jesus’ identity: “Since you’re the Son of God. . .” but this accuser and slanderer tempts Jesus to act upon that identity by taking the easy road. But Jesus doesn’t do it. For our sake, for the love that was within him, Jesus chose to take a road that would hard instead of easy – he would suffer and struggle. He wouldn’t do this because suffering and hardship is good or even redemptive in and of itself. No. He would do it because he would love fully, heal boundlessly, forgive endlessly, live in joy abundantly, and associate himself indiscriminately. And when a person lives like that – when Jesus lived like that – it makes waves, and the powers of this world resist it. For our sakes, Jesus chose the way of freedom and life, and the world met it with a cross. And yet, even a cross couldn’t extinguish that life of love! We point to Jesus as the resurrected one.

Jesus did not take the easy way out.

Jesus took the hard way through.

And he took it to and for the purpose of life.

And that’s where God calls us too. Tonight is the first Sunday of Lent, and we’re in 40 days of Lent traveling through the wilderness toward Easter, toward life, toward resurrection. And so I ask us each to consider tonight, “In what wilderness to you find yourself these days? How does Jesus want to heal that wilderness? What words, questions, situations, memories accuse you or slander you?

Have I found the right way to do what I’m doing? Is this right?

Am I really good? Am I really worth loving? Actually, loveable?

Will I succeed, or will I fail?

What is it that feels missing?

How will I find out the answers?

Will I always be afraid?

Will life be as rich as I hope it will be?

Can I stay in control, or should I let go?

How can I make peace in the conflicts that surround me?

In what wilderness do you find yourselves?

How might Jesus seek to resurrect you by walking through it with you? How can you look to him? How can you follow him as your guide? Let him lead and form you in the wilderness so that you might go forth as one resurrected, choosing to love so deeply that you willingly enter the world’s wilderness, loving fully, healing boundlessly, forgiving endlessly, living in joy abundantly, and associating yourself indiscriminately.

How will that happen? Let’s travel these forty days together. Amen.

-Renee Roederer, Campus Minister, and the Austin Agape Community