Lent 1 B: Wilderness Faith
Dear Partner in Preaching,
Somewhere along the line – whether in a college English course or seminary preaching class I can’t quite remember – I was taught to craft a tight, clear theme sentence to guide the whole of the essay or sermon. I’ll confess that I don’t do that every week, but I will this time around. And keeping with the brevity of Mark’s Gospel – and, indeed, his somewhat truncated version of the temptation – I’m going to keep it short: the same Spirit that descends upon Jesus at his baptism now drives him into the wilderness.
Did you ever notice that, by the way? That immediately after his Baptism Jesus is driven – not just led, mind you, but driven – into the wilderness by the same Spirit that just earlier had descended upon him and conferred to him God’s profound blessing?
To be honest, I had only noticed half of that. That is, I noticed that Jesus’ baptism came immediately before his temptation and concluded that receiving his identity as God’s child was essential to weathering the temptations and struggles to come. Similarly, I would suggest in such sermons, the identity given us at Baptism is what guides us through the challenges and struggles that await us on our journey as well. And I still stand by that. (And it’ll preach, if you don’t like what I write below. J) But this year it struck me that it is Spirit that drives Jesus into the wilderness, that place of challenge and struggle and purification and testing and temptation.
Why? Did Jesus need to be in the wilderness for some reason? Did this wilderness period of struggle and temptation provide something essential to his ministry or accomplish some end that isn’t immediately apparent?
We don’t know for sure, of course, as Mark doesn’t say. But I have wondered if one fruitful approach to this text might be to assume that indeed the Spirit’s prompting wasn’t random, that the Spirit drove Jesus to the wilderness with some purpose. And if we can imagine that, then might we also look at some of the wilderness places we have chosen to go recently and wonder the same.
But there’s the rub, isn’t it. Truth be told, we rarely volunteer to go to wilderness places. We don’t often look for opportunities to struggle. Which is probably why Mark reports that the Spirit drove Jesus rather than simply make a suggestion. J And the same is true with our periods of trial, temptation, and struggle. We don’t choose these – they happen to us. Even when the challenges in front of us are of our own making – let alone those put upon us by others or the fortunes of life – we rarely want or actively seek such hardship. But can we possible imagine that the Spirit might make use of us during these challenges? That’s a whole other question.
At this point, I want to be absolutely clear: I am not suggesting that God causes us misery or suffering. Not to teach us something, and definitely not to punish us or put us in our place. Notice that the Spirit doesn’t tempt Jesus, but rather drives Jesus to the wilderness. Similarly, I don’t believe that God even wants us to suffer, let alone causes us to. But I do wonder if we can imagine that perhaps God is at work both for us and through us during our wilderness times.
These questions shouldn’t be asked lightly, especially when the struggles we face are major. I’m not advocating a spiritual panacea, let alone inviting people to stay in situations of danger or personal degradation. Far from it. God wants only good things for God’s children.
And yet struggle, trial, even misery – that is, wilderness times – abound. And I wonder if we can look at the struggles around us in light of this story and ask, “Even though I did not wish for this, how might God be at work through this difficult period. What can I get out of this? How might God use me to help someone else?” These kinds of questions aren’t meant so much to redeem struggle and suffering – as if that’s our job! – but rather to remind us of God’s presence during those wilderness times that leave us feeling stretched beyond our abilities. Because, you know what? The same Spirit of God that descended upon Jesus at Baptism and drove Jesus out into the wilderness also accompanied him during that time and brought him back again.
So also, God will not abandon us during our sojourns in the wilderness but might even, from time to time, drive us there for our benefit or that of someone around us. God is, after all, in the business of taking that which seems only to cause death and somehow wring from it resurrection life. And that’s not a bad thing to remember at the beginning of Lent. So I want our people to be able to look at their struggles, hear the promise of God’s presence with them, and then look for God at work in and through them for the sake of this world God loves so much.
This won’t be an easy sermon to preach, Dear Partner, as I know there are many pitfalls in preaching about challenge, trials, and suffering and lots and lots of bad theology out there. But if handled with equal measures of sensitivity and courage, this passage might just help us invite our people not just to survive the wilderness times of their lives but to emerge from them renewed in hope, faith, and confidence. Thanks so much for your efforts to do just that, and blessings on your proclamation.
Yours in Christ,
David
PS: My annual Lenten devotional series begins tomorrow, as we cover the Passion According to John. Feel free to let folks know. Thanks!
I have a question about this commentary. In one place you write this:
“But I have wondered if one fruitful approach to this text might be to assume that indeed the Spirit’s prompting wasn’t random, that the Spirit drove Jesus to the wilderness with some purpose.”
In another place, you say:
“And I wonder if we can look at the struggles around us in light of this story and ask, “Even though I did not wish for this, how might God be at work through this difficult period. What can I get out of this? How might God use me to help someone else?”
It sounds like you arguing that the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness for a reason. However, you clarify that point by saying that God doesn’t want us to suffer. God doesn’t make bad things happen in life. Rather, it sounds like bad things just happens and yet God is still at work in it. (But that doesn’t sound the same as saying “the Spirit drove Jesus out there for a reason.”) In short, it sounds like you’re looking for meaning in this time of wilderness – for Jesus and for us.
That’s fine, but how does that fit with your article on last’s weeks text about the Transfiguration where you say this:
“But maybe, just maybe, there is no plan. Maybe there’s only love. And perhaps our job as preachers and leaders isn’t to fit our experience – let alone everyone else’s – into some kind of “divine plan,” but rather to create space for people to experience the wonder and mystery of God.”
Can you clarify your thoughts on this temptation text a little bit more in light of the idea that “Maybe, just maybe, there is no plan. Maybe there’s only love”? I like the idea that God is all about love rather than planning out every little detail of our lives – especially planning the difficult times for us. Yet I’m confused how that fits with this commentary on the temptation where you say that the Spirit drove Jesus out there for a reason. Can you say a little more to help this disconnect make more sense to me? Thanks.
I don’t think the 2 have to necessarily be consistent. Systematic Theology is important, and yet reading the Bible blows up any system we attempt to put together. One thing I love about Martin Luther is paradox. How can Jesus be divine and human? How can communion be bread and wine and body and blood? How can we be both sinner and saint? To read the Bible is to make oneself at home with paradox. I love that Dr. Lose says “I wonder” and “maybe.” I wonder too…all of the time. Mystery, paradox, and questioning are all great homiletic moves into the text.
I too love how paradox is so much (if not all) a part of our faith. As I write my sermon I am beset by wondering….how do we preach that God changes God’s mind as evidenced in the telling that God promises never to beset people again with flooding – yet flooding remains one of the trials that life and nature bring upon us? And the reality that tsunamis and hurricans remain real threats? And God throughout the scriptures does get angry again and again – even if we do find mercy is also pressent. I am suffering momentary doubt at my ability to preach these passages without coming back at them with my own questioning, confused position. I suppose this is when faith will carry me to the other side of this conundrum.
It’s a great question, Kurt. One I asked myself. 🙂 In fact, in an earlier draft I had a paragraph raising that question and trying to answer it but felt it got over complicated. In short, here’s how I think about it: I prefer to think about God’s promise rather than plan, and some of the promises that are important are a) that God loves us and doesn’t intend us harm and b) that God can work through anything for good. Was the cross a part of some much larger and complicated plan? Or was it the supreme example of the ability of the God of love and life to wrest victory and redemption even from the darkest and most awful moments? How we answer that reveals a lot, I think, about our theology. Thanks for continuing the conversation.
I am wondering if it a part of the human condition that we find our way into the wilderness of life, whether by circumstances around us or through our own doing? Whether one is disciple of Jesus Christ or person with no faith at all, it seems that wilderness experience comes to all of us from time to time. Yet, we can come to the One who has been through the wilderness in life for strength, encouragement, and consolation.
Seems the Spirit hurls Jesus into an epic battle between good and evil, and no doubt tries to hurl us there are well. That’s part of what it means to be included in God’s mission to love and bless the world. Of course, this side of the cross we can be assured of God’s ultimate victory, but it doesn’t always feel so certain in the midst of the battle. The disciplines of Lent help create a space to feel the Spirit’s pushing, prodding, hurling – or take a read on just how firmly we have our feet planted where we are. If we do find ourselves hurled into the battle, angels are waiting to feed us, and we can emerge with greater clarity about our identity as God’s beloved. Movie/book “Wild” offers a great lead in.
thanks for these thoughts…i’m playing with the idea that the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness to remind him that his (and our) primary struggle is NOT with God, but with “satan”, or our doubts/fears that bubble up in the barren places. trying to tie in the Genesis passage…we so often prefer the god of the flood over the god of the rainbow. wondering what happens to our faith when we see our primary struggle as being with God, when God has long ago given up the fight.
When the language of ‘driving Jesus into the wilderness’ gets fleshed out I wonder, just a little, about the disunity of the Trinity. It’s confusing. (Someone suggested: The drive was in a Subaru Hatchback. “Get in, Jesus, we’re going for a little ride…got important work to do.”) Is there a way to retain the unity of the Trinity by imagining how often it was a unified divinity of Jesus–a union with Father, Son, Spirit/Creator, Savior, Sustainer–that oftentimes compelled Jesus into various desert places. Certainly an epic battle was won after his baptism, yet the wilderness didn’t go away. Still there today. Obviously, we don’t drag out a Trinitarian sermon here, right? But I wonder how we can share how ‘our own union with God’ leads us to these desert places in a way that we can notice God’s presence along-with, as opposed to a God who sometimes lovingly shoves us into the pit of struggle, learning, etc. I’m personally trying to understand the saying: Prayer is the furnace of transformation…And other categories like that. God’s Spirit among us/for us tends to lead us into ‘the heat’ for the sake of healing, refinement, etc. And we trust that it’s all good.
Great questions. I think of this part of the text as incarnational: to me it demonstrates that Jesus can no more escape the desert as the incarnate one than we can. In a sense, is this not exactly what happens to us following baptism: are we not then driven into the desert. In fact, the verb used here is not simply one of compelling, but rather of violent propulsion. This opens up to me the idea that Christ is with me in the desert wilderness, for just as life throws me into wilderness experiences, so too does it drive our Lord, and he is there with us and for us–having himself shared this in his humanity. Like you, I don’t quite know what to do with the Spirit being the one to drive him. Thanks for sharing.
This really is a powerful idea to explore more deeply. In looking at the word Mark uses here it has the sense of “cast out”: it is, in fact the same verb Jesus will use 11 times to cast out demons, the removal of the eye, the cleansing of the Temple, and the casting out of the heir from the vineyard. It has the sense of being propelled (Vincent Taylor, The Gospel According to Mark). In this sense, it does not necessarily imply a voluntary move on the part of Jesus. In fact, as Taylor indicates, it points to a kind of violent propulsion. What a challenging idea to explore, leaving the preacher to struggle with what Mark is saying. What does this kind of driving of Jesus into the wilderness say? This surely opens new dimensions for the preacher to tackle. Mark’s use of such a strong verb doesn’t leave much room to tame this text down. It’s amazing that, although Mark gives none of the details of the temptation, he inserts this powerful verb to describe Jesus’ time in the wilderness.
In a sense, does this not describe the reality that many times when we find ourselves in the desert wilderness facing temptation, life in some way has propelled us into the desert. I wonder if this might give us a glimpse that Jesus here can no more escape the wilderness than we can–that the incarnation implies that the humanity of Jesus shares this in common with all human beings. Might this not be a glimpse of how much Jesus, in his humanity, is with us in our humanity–that he, though divine and sinless, cannot, in his human dimension any more escape temptation and the wilderness experience than we can? Maybe the next time we find ourselves driven into the wilderness, propelled into situations of temptation Christ is with us–for he has been there precisely in the same way? I don’t know if this idea has traction or not–would appreciate other thoughts.
Something that stands out for me, and that I think is often overlooked, are the angels, who were there with Jesus, serving him. Why does Mark make a point of even mentioning them? It makes me wonder if God’s Spirit ever throws us out, into the wilderness, in order to serve Jesus – like the angels did – by being with those who are alone, and struggling in their own kind of wilderness? – To stand with those who are oppressed, harassed, or ignored by society, to walk with the lonely, scared, discouraged, grieving, or depressed, and to lift up the poor, hungry, or homeless. We are so tempted to stay put, to stay comfortable, and stay safe, and yet God’s Spirit continues to grab hold of us, and throw us out, into the wilderness parts of the world, not only to stand with, walk with, and lift up those who are hurting, but also to share the love and promise of God with them. Maybe that’s why the Spirit keeps throwing us out there – into the wilderness – because when we walk with each other, and lift each other up in our pain and struggles – even in the simplest way, God is right there with us, giving us hope, giving us peace, and transforming our wilderness into sacred space!
Deb: thanks for putting flesh on this text.
At the moment of our baptism we, too, are driven up out of the water and into the wilderness that is our world. We are not able to remain, immersed in the holy water of true life, but rather must emerge, free of sin, but forced to confront the wild beasts that exist all around us in our mortal life. Thank God we have the example of the One who has gone before us, along with all the other angels prepared to serve us and protect us if only we will open our hearts to love.
At the risk of repetition – peirazo is more ‘testing’ than tempting. Think Navy Seal training vs. facing chocolate cake. The same spirit that fills us with compassion inevitably brings us into the ‘suffering with’ whose only alternative is numbness and escape. ‘Jesus wept’ – and so do we. Our own being lost in the wilderness happens as a corollary to our being found in the fullness and comprehensiveness of God’s love for all being.
Thank you for your “wondering” that opens to new thoughts as we wrestle with our own wilderness experiences!