“And Afterwards, He Was Famished.”

Lent 1

Matthew 4:1‑11

{1} Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.

{2} He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.

{3} The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” {4} But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

{5} Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, {6} saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” {7} Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

{8} Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; {9} and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” {10} Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” {11} Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

The Sermon

He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.

I know of two people who have gone out camping by themselves, overnight or over a week-end, for an experience of fasting. Each of them, independently (they don’t know each other), has told me the same thing: instead of thinking about God, they spent the whole time thinking, “Man, I’m hungry.”

Jesus fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards, he was famished.

I imagine that’s usually how it works. Temptation isn’t quite so tempting when you have plenty of alternatives.

It can show up in the strangest places. Or it can show up in the places that are everyday and mundane to us, but in certain circumstances, they seem to become almost irresistible.

Jesus knows all about that. He understands. He’s been there.

He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.

That’s when the proctor of the final exam arrived.

Aren’t you hungry, Jesus? How about some good, savory bread, the kind that feels warm to the touch; and when you put a little in your mouth, it’s like it melts, like butter, like cotton candy, like it becomes part of the air you breathe, it becomes part of you, the aroma fills your nostrils and the flavor envelopes your mouth, and when you bite into it, the warmth feels like security, like home, like a blanket.

Aren’t you hungry, Jesus? You must be famished. Come on! Try it—because, if you’re the Son of God, you could command these stones to become loaves of bread. Couldn’t you.

The first temptation was to sell out: to make the gift of the power of God a magic trick, and not only that, but a self-serving magic trick.

How often have we wanted to harness the power of God to our own ends, treating God like a genie in a bottle who’s just waiting for us to come and ask our three wishes—and once they’re granted…“Thank you, that’ll be all.”

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the Temple, and said, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

It’s been forty days and forty nights you’ve been on your spiritual fast, Jesus. Isn’t it time to stop groveling? To take what’s yours—namely, to accept your place as the darling of the angels?

We remember the night you were born, when an army of angels (that’s what a heavenly host is, an army of angels) filled the sky, and sang your birth; and the implied message to every creature on earth—every king, every government, every thug—was: “Don’t you touch this baby boy.”

And I would imagine that after forty days of having to crawl around out there in the wasteland, eating your prayers and sleeping in a bed of hunger, I would imagine you’re about ready for the royal treatment.

And if not that, then don’t you think you might as well just jump anyway? Because the disciples may not know this, John the Baptist may not know this, the people who knew you in Nazareth may not know this, but you know and I know that once you get to Jerusalem for real, and you’re not up here above the people, but down there among them, they’re going to take you down.

They’re going to nail you up, and they’re going to take you down.

Why not just accept your place for now, because God’s not gonna let anything happen to you.

Come on, give it a leap.

The second temptation was to take God’s protective love for granted.

We cut corners in faithfulness, knowing we can keep shortchanging God; knowing we can keep disappointing God; knowing we can keep expecting the royal treatment from God, even when we don’t give God the time of day; and we get away with it time after time after time.

And finally the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”

But you don’t need a devil for that. If what you live for is what you worship, honestly, you can get an awful lot.

Money—talk about being tempted when you’re famished. Money doesn’t matter until you don’t have it. Then it matters. Then we’re famished. Then we need a fix, to hold together our collapsing world, our fragile relationships, our overstrained lives.

But some have found that if you live for it, if it becomes the one thing you are all about, if it becomes for you the ultimate, singular goal of your life, you can get it.

You may lose everything that once was sacred to you, you may lose your family, you may lose your soul, but you’ll get your money.

Or power. Or attention. Or self-justification “I’m always right.” You can have it all, if you choose to bow down and worship it.

The third temptation is to live for something other than the source of all life, the One who created you.

He had been fasting forty days and forty nights, and he was famished.

How hungry are you? And for what? How do you need to be taken care of? Because you do, and I do—we all need to be taken care of. What do you need? For what are you famished?

I ask because, to varying degrees, these are all questions about who you are. And who you are is very important. Who you are matters to the universe and, particularly, to the God who made it and chose to include you in it.

And so my wish for you, in these forty Lenten days of spiritual fasting, is that you will face these temptations head-on, that you will find the courage to name them, and the strength to admit to them, and the faith to understand that they do not need to rule your life, and that you are free to choose to live for God.

And may the angels come and wait on you.

Keith Grogg

Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church

Carolina Beach, NC

February 10, 2008