Lent 1
Sermon preached by Revd Sophie Young
A few weeks’ ago, on a Friday afternoon I had the privilege of walking with someone who was on day 17 of their withdrawal from heroin. It was the Friday that Storm Eunice hit the UK, and as we got battered about on Midsummer Common, it was plain to see that Eunice had nothing on the internal storm of my walking companion. Each step a victory, another minute of freedom in the bag from the drug that had already stolen so many years of his life.
As we walked, he pulled back his sleeve and revealed the flesh on his arms covered in goosebumps: the so-called, Cold Turkey effect. He alluded to the pain, the physical and mental battle as his body fought to cope without that which it had become accustomed to: the heightened sensitivity of the skin to any movement, any temperature changes.
Walking with us was a friend of his who I know well. He turned to me as we walked, anguish etched on his face on behalf of what his friend was going through…a knowing look from someone who had been in this place…and he said to me – ‘he’s going through hell, you know’, both of us feeling fairly helpless in what we could offer by way of support. We discussed how the opportunity to get out of this hell was there though, just 20 minutes away. That’s all it would be until he could have heroin delivered to his doorstep, quicker than a take-away, it could be there and this present pain and anguish, this present hell, would be over.
Temptation, we can often think of as a sign of weakness. A sign that we are failing. However, if we take nothing else away from Jesus’ experience of temptation in today’s gospel reading, surely, we take away that if Jesus, the Son of God can struggle with temptation, there is no-one among us who is exempt. To wrestle with temptation is part of the human lot. A harsh truth, but comforting perhaps, that we are all in it together. Jesus too.
And that is what lent is about. Recognising the hard parts of our lives and of this world, the things that make our hearts ache and our eyes sting. The battles, the pain, the grief, the sadness and recognising firstly that they’re there, and secondly that we are not alone in them. We are in this, life, together…with Christ. None of us is exempt from the darkness of this world, but most reassuringly, Christ is not either. And the church, in observing lent says this is all part of church, and discipleship and what it is to be a follower of Christ. Life is messy, and hard, but church can take that, name it and be a place of truth.
In last Sunday’s readings we heard about the transfiguration, where Jesus shone gloriously up on a mountain top, and his identity as God’s son was revealed, where his disciples were dazzled by his kingship. This week, a stark contrast: we have the image of a lonely and hungry Jesus, in the wilderness, being tempted by the devil. It may seem like a fall from grace or power, if we see temptation as weakness, but this is the same Jesus, and it is precisely BECAUSE he IS the Son of God that the devil is tempting him. The devil here is not denying Jesus’ identity as the Son of God, but he is seeking to exploit it! He is testing Jesus’ allegiance to God, to see if Jesus will remain faithful to God’s plans, or whether he can be tempted to come onboard with an alternative.
So, what does temptation look like for Jesus? Well, it looks quite like how temptation looks for the rest of us. It approaches in conversation and without announcement. It doesn’t come with a big board saying ‘I am temptation, and I am inviting you to personal, domestic and social ruin’. Temptation for Jesus, as it can often be for us, is deceptively attractive. It calls us to do that about which much good can often be said.
The devil tempts Jesus firstly by asking him to turn stones into bread: well certainly the hungry of this world hope Jesus can do that. He tempts him to take political control: certainly, the oppressed of this world hope Jesus can do that. He tempts him to leap from the temple on the basis God will save him: certainly, those longing for God’s power among us, hope that would be true.
Temptation is attractive, it promises rise not fall. It promises control and pleasure and power…otherwise it would not be tempting! The real deal of temptation though, is in the small print, the bit we only find out about when it goes wrong, when we feel lacking and empty, hurt, or ashamed. When we realise that what we were tempted by has put distance between us and God’s good plans for us: a life of hope and joy and light and peace. It is then that we realise temptation has small print.
And it is in lent that many of us take time therefore to recognise the areas of our life where temptation has gotten the better of us. To reflect, and fast, and confess. It is a season. But for some, it is a life-long season.
One of the things I do in my role as Chaplain to the homeless community is I run a weekly addiction group. It takes place in a Church, and it is a place where people come for whom reflecting and fasting and confessing is a daily, as well as a life-long, battle. We say that if you come, all you will find is a cup of tea and kindness in the room. It is a space of no shame and no judgement.
And every time I run this group it lifts my heart, because what I see are a group of people with a variety of addictions coming and choosing life. Coming, and in just showing up, saying I choose goodness and truth, and light over darkness, and community over isolation. I see people turning away from the lies of addiction and temptation, its seductive power, and I see people surrendering themselves to truth. I see the power of shame broken as truth is spoken and met with kindness and love. I see so much of Christ in that room in those present: his courage, his grace, his non-judgemental attitude, and his compassion. So, there in the darkness, the mess, what society would judge as the most shameful parts of our human nature…there is Christ. Offering hope and freedom and love. He is not apart, but he is right there in the midst.
And he is right there in the midst with each of us. Knowing our struggles and pain this lent as we look at the state of the world and cry out in our despair. He is there in the scriptures this morning, struggling himself with hunger as many in our world do today, resisting the temptation to take things into his own hands and do things his way, and not God’s. And all of this temptation is whilst he is full of the spirit. It is not like he is spiritually depleted at this time in his life, he has just been filled with the Holy Spirit at his baptism, and yet even then, the devil takes his chance to try and steer him away from God’s plans.
But Jesus remains faithfully obedient to God. Desiring what God desires and so the devil gives up for a bit and departs it says, until an opportune time. This ending is not relief, but a warning instead, that he will return.
And so, just as Jesus’ ministry was characterised by pretty constant opposition to God’s purpose and plans, so might our lives be too in this broken world. But Jesus demonstrates a single-minded commitment to God, to be his agent, to choose his way, and there lies the answer for us too. That doesn’t mean we won’t fall off the wagon or get things wrong or give into temptation from time-to-time. Of course, we will fail because we are human, but it does mean practicing habits that help us to keep choosing God’s way. Last week I was chatting with a guy who is part of a 12-Step addiction recovery group and he is clean now, but says he still works the steps of the recovery programme every 6 months. Always staying vigilant, always checking in on whether he’s following God’s way or his own. Addiction: whether to alcohol or drugs, or to self, or status, or social media, is not the best that God has for us. And we find out the best he has planned for us when we stay close to him and remain vigilant to that which tempts us away.
A few days after our walk on midsummer common, I met with the friend of the guy withdrawing from heroin. We met in here, and I asked how he was doing. We stood over there and lit a candle for him on the Pricket Stand, and he said to me: you know what, I can see him coming back to life, he’s going through hell, but I can see life being restored, I can see him going for it, wanting it.
I didn’t, but I could have, punched the air with joy! Like, yes God! Come on. Despite the temptation to relieve the immediate pain with a phone call – as Jesus could have alleviated his own hunger by turning the stones into bread - the guy was hanging in there, choosing life, reflecting the graces of God, daring to dream, looking to Easter on the horizon. Perpetual lent would be over: Easter would come.
And then last week the three of us met again, now 31 days clean and I asked him what was keeping him going: he pointed to his friend: him. He doesn’t take enough credit but his encouragement, his visits, his cheering me on is keeping me going.
It was his friend that was holding the hope. None of us are meant to do this life, or this lent, alone. Reach out, hold the hope for someone this lent and let someone hold the hope for you.
Amen.