Tag: temptation

Refusing to Bow Down

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year A1 Comment

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Matthew 4:1-11

For the past few weeks, we’ve been listening to Jesus preach his first sermon on a hillside. But on this First Sunday in Lent, the lectionary takes us back to the beginning of his ministry.

After his baptism in the Jordan, Matthew tells us that Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. Not by accident. Not by happenstance. Not by taking a wrong turn. But by the Spirit.

The word Matthew uses suggests Jesus was “launched” into the wilderness, like a ship pushed out into deep water. Because before Jesus could teach God’s reign of love and justice, he had to first confront the seduction of power.

And here’s something we overlook when we read or hear this text. This story is not just about Jesus confronting the seduction of power long ago. But it is about the church, the Body of Christ, confronting that same seduction today.

Every time we come to this table, consuming the Body of Christ, we affirm that we are the Body of Christ. This means the temptations Jesus faces in the wilderness are not his alone. They are ours.

This text in Matthew is about the soul of the church. And it is about the soul of our nation.

Now, before we move too quickly into the temptations, we need to pause and ask: Who is this “devil” in the story? The Greek word is, diabolos, meaning “the accuser,” “the divider,” “the one who slanders and distorts.” In Jewish imagination, this figure is not a rival god equal to God, or the ruler of the underworld, but a voice in the world that tests, twists, and tempts. It’s a force that magnifies fear and manipulates truth. The “devil” is not some scary red creature with horns and pitchfork. It’s the embodiment of every lie seducing humanity to grasp for power and supremacy.

It’s the ancient whisper from Genesis that Eve heard in the garden: “Did God reallysay…?” It’s the voice that promises security through exclusion, glory through domination, and comfort through control. Jesus is not arguing with some cartoon villain in the desert. He’s confronting the deepest distortions of power and faith that still haunt the world.

The tempter doesn’t come when Jesus is strong. The tempter comes when he is depleted, having fasted in the wilderness for forty days, saying “Turn these stones into bread.”

On the surface, it makes perfect sense. It sounds rational, justifiable. You’re starving, physically and spiritually. You need to be fed. So, feed yourself.

But as we are reminded every Sunday when we share Holy Communion together, Jesus understands that bread is much more than calories. Bread is covenant. Bread is relationship. Bread is community around a shared table.

Bread is a holy gift. It’s a process that takes time. There are no shortcuts to baking bread. Bread is not made from stones, but from seed in the ground. From rain and sun. From soil and sweat. From farmers and millers and bakers. From kneading hands and patient waiting.

Plant. Wait. Harvest. Grind. Knead. Bake. Serve. Eat together. Save the seed. Repeat. Shortcutting hunger may satisfy the body in a moment, but it will not nourish the soul, build a community, or strengthen a faith. This is why Jesus answers, “We do not live by bread alone.”

The temptation to turn stones into bread is the temptation to control. But as Master Baker and Christian Educator extraordinaire Maria Niechwiadowicz writes: “The true beauty of bread baking is learning to let go of control, to become attentive to the process instead.” This is why she leads Bake and Pray workshops. She writes: “When we approach baking as liturgy, as a rhythm of prayer, our focus shifts. We begin to notice how the dough has a life of its own, and how God is tending to our own spirits in the same quiet, steady way. Baking bread becomes a practice of noticing. It calls us to slow down, pay attention, and rest.”

And this where this temptation becomes political today.

Religious nationalism promises quick fixes and easy solutions to our fears. It says we can solve our complex problems with control, force, and exclusion. It offers the stone-bread of hatred—hard, fast, satisfying in the mouth for a moment, but incapable of sustaining life.

Because cannot build a peaceful and just world with stone-bread. A nation’s soul cannot nourished with anger. The problem of human hunger, physical or spiritual, cannot be solved by shortcutting the slow, relational, justice-centered work that real, holy, God-bread requires.

Our broken nation cannot heal by consuming stone-bread of fear. But we can heal with the God-bread of empathy, repair and reconciliation.

The beloved community cannot be created with the stone-bread of alienation, separation, or domination. But it can and it will with the God-bread of acceptance, equity, and inclusion.

Lent is not a season for quick fixes. It’s a season for planting. It’s a holy time to ask: How are we satisfying our hunger? How are we healing the world? How are we making our bread? Are we grasping at stones because they are quick and easy to throw? Or are we willing to do the slow, sometimes exhausting, long work that nurtures body and soul: the work of planting justice, kneading mercy, baking reconciliation, and setting a table wide enough for all of God’s children?[i]

It is then the tempter takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple, to the architecture of faith, the center of religious life. And there, you could say, “in church,” the devil quotes scripture. That’s right, the devil is in the church and the devil has memorized some Bible verses! “Throw yourself down. God will catch you. The angels will bear you up.”

On the surface, it sounds faithful. It even sounds biblical. But this temptation is about performing faith instead of living it. It’s hanging the ten commandments on a wall of classrooms, or mandating Bible teaching in the classrooms, while refusing to fund the classrooms, to feed the children, and to pay the teachers a living wage. It’s a mouth full of scripture and a heart full of hate. It’s about manufacturing a religious spectacle to prove to others that you are on the side of God.

And Jesus refuses: “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

In other words: Authentic faith does not need a stunt. Later, Jesus will say, if you want people to know you are on the side of God, that you are my disciples, love one another as you have seen me love you.

Jesus understands that faith, like bread, takes time, patience, and love—in quiet obedience, in daily prayer, in healing the sick one body at a time, in touching the untouchable, in eating with sinners, in welcoming children, in doing the difficult work of liberation and reconciliation, in walking dusty, lonesome roads to meet people wherever they are.

You don’t build faith in God by jumping off buildings. You build it by walking steadily in love, loving your neighbors as you love yourselves, standing up for and with, the least of these.

Religious nationalism thrives on religious stunts and theatrics. It believes that if we can just show strength (visible, loud, triumphant) then that must mean God is with us.

But Jesus understands when faith becomes performance, it stops being faith. And when the church becomes obsessed with visibility and influence, it forgets the slow, steady work of justice.

The kin-dom of God grows more like yeast than fireworks. It’s quiet, persistent, transformative from the inside out. The season of Lent invites us to step down from the pinnacle to practice the long obedience of mercy, truth-telling, and solidarity. No stunts. No spectacles. Just faithfulness.

Finally, the tempter says the quiet part out loud. No more talking about hunger. No more scripture games. Just a mountain. A wide view. And a deal.

“All the kingdoms of the world and all their splendor I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” There it is. The devil just comes out and says it with breathtaking honesty. Worship power, and you can have power. Bow down, bend the knee, and you can rule.

No shortcuts disguised as feeding oneself. No spectacle disguised as faith. Just the ancient bargain from the Garden of Eden spoken out loud: “You can be like God.” You can take control, secure dominance, and make it all yours.

And here’s what makes this temptation so dangerous: it would have worked.

Jesus could have enforced God’s reign of love and justice from the top down. He could have imposed righteousness. He could have seized the machinery of empire and steered it toward good. But that’s not the kingdom of God. Because the moment you bow to power to get power, power becomes your god.

Thus, Jesus refuses to negotiate. “Away with you, Satan, you tempter and deceiver! For it is written: Worship the Lord your God, and serve God only.” Jesus refuses to confuse the reign of God with the rule of empire.

Religious nationalism makes this exact offer to the church. It says: “Align yourself with political control.” “Trade your prophetic voice for proximity to the throne.” “Overlook hate and greed, even sexual assault and pedophilia, if you can getyour way.” “Secure cultural dominance, and then you can shape the future.”

But we cannot build beloved community by bowing to power or create justice by surrendering to supremacy.

We cannot proclaim good news to the poor and liberation to the oppressed while kneeling before systems that require the poor to remain poor and the oppressed to remain bound.

The kingdom of God does not arrive through coercion but grows the way bread grows: through seed in soil; through slow, tedious, patient work; through trust; through shared tables and a cross-shaped love.

This path looks weak from the mountaintop. It doesn’t glitter. It doesn’t dominate. It doesn’t trend or immediately go viral. And it leads, eventually, to another hill, not a throne, but a cross.

And that is the decisive rejection of this temptation.

Jesus ultimately chooses suffering love over controlling power. He chooses grace over domination. He chooses faithfulness over force, nonviolence over violence. And because he does, angels come to him in the wilderness and minister to him.

Not because he won. But because he refused to bow.

Lent asks the church the same question the wilderness asked Jesus:

Whom will you worship?

Will we bow to the splendor of control?
Will we trade love of neighbor for political power?
Will we accept injustice if it keeps “our side” in charge?

Or will we worship the Lord our God, and serve God only?

This Lent, may we refuse to bow and resist the bargain. And choose the slow, holy work of love, mercy, and justice.

May we plant gardens instead of building empires.

May we always choose to worship God alone.

Amen.

Resisting the Devil

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year CLeave a comment

Luke 4:1-13 NRSV

If you are like me, you can probably resonate with the Ash Wednesday prayer that was shared this week by Week of Compassion, our denomination’s relief, refugee, and mission agency:

Dear God, we are so weary. Honestly. Just flat worn out. Everything is so much…too much…right now, and there seems to be no end in sight. No end to the worry. No end to the tragedy. No end to the questions. No end to the confusion...

 

Can you relate? I know I can. The good news of our faith is that Jesus also can.

The season of Lent seems to have arrived at the perfect time. In the words sent in an email to encourage pastors this week by Rev. Jim Wallis, the executive director of the Center of Faith and Justice, I believe it is “not accidental, nor coincidental, that this Lenten season comes to us at this moment of history. It is providential.”

Because on this First Sunday of Advent, our gospel lesson reminds us that Jesus understood what it felt like to be “flat worn out” or “depleted.” The word Luke uses is “famished,” as Jesus has been fasting in the wilderness and tempted by the devil.

I know, I know. We don’t talk that much about “the devil” today. And maybe that is part of our problem.

Now, back in the day, my mom had something to say about the devil nearly every day! I probably heard it most often when I was being scolded for some kind of mischievous behavior. I can still hear her say: “Jarrett, the devil’s really gotten into you today!”

As some of you know, I came down with some type of 24-hour bug this past Wednesday night which forced me to miss the Ash Wednesday service. Thankfully, the elders didn’t hesitate to step up and lead what I was told was a beautiful and encouraging service to begin this year’s Lenten. You know what mama might call a fever that prevented me from going to church? “It was the devil.”

And today, if you are invited to mama’s house for dinner don’t expect to be ever serve “deviled eggs.” Not in her house. Oh, she still makes ‘em, but she calls ‘em “angel eggs.” And if I ever slip up and make the observation: “Why mama, these eggs look and taste just like deviled eggs to me!” You know what I’ll hear: “The devil’s gotten into you today, Jarrett!”

And like many teenagers in the 70’s, at least those who grew up Baptist, I got my fill of sermons calling Rock ‘n Roll, “the devil’s music.”

But that’s not the devil that we need to talk about today. That’s not the devil that we need to summon the energy to resist today in our famished, weary, worn-out state.

We need to talk about the devil that is working against us like the force of gravity as we climb together to reach Dr. King’s mountaintop where all people are finally free at last.

We need to talk about how to resist the devil in our nation today that is trying to send us backwards, even knock us off our feet!

We need to talk about how to resist the devil that has pulled many Christians today off and away from the narrow road following Jesus.

We need to talk about the devil that Jesus somehow found the strength to resist even when he felt depleted and powerless.

Let’s look closer at our gospel lesson this morning which comes to us at a most providential time.

First, Jesus resists the devil by refusing to make some bread from the stones that are around him to feed himself. It’s a temptation to follow a way using one’s privilege and power to look after one’s self, to feed one’s self, to put one’s self first, instead of following a way that uses the power and privilege we’ve been given to care for others, to tend to the needs of others, to feed others, even putting the needs of others ahead of our own needs. Jesus resists any movement that suggests that one should put one’s self, or even one’s nation first and any power that believes “empathy is a fundamental weakness of civilization.”[i]

Secondly, Jesus resists the devil by refusing to sell his soul in order to gain political power. Jesus refuses to worship the devil, to join others today who fool-heartedly believe that the end somehow justifies the means, even if those means are the most vile and ugliest of means like: celebrating mass deportations and the separation of families; pardoning men who violently attacked police officers; allowing women to die without access to healthcare and children in other countries to die without food, all the while passionately defending a obvious lies, flagrant greed, unethical behavior, violence against women, and gross immorality coming from the highest seats of public service, sacrificing everything that Jesus taught and stood for on the idolatrous and insidious altar of White Christian Nationalism.

Thirdly, Jesus resists the devil by resisting the enticing promises of protection, comfort, and safety. As is obvious in Luke’s next scene as Jesus is nearly thrown off a cliff for inferring that God loves, and may even favor, those considered to be foreigners, and when later in Luke’s gospel Jesus scolds Peter for drawing his sword to protect Jesus, Jesus refused to succumb to the temptation to follow any path that promised to protect him. Even in a wearied, famished state, Jesus would not fall for any promise of protection by the devil, even from exaggerated or made-up threats like: liberals coming for our guns; refugees coming for our pets; immigrants coming for our jobs; or boys are coming for our daughter’s place on her swim team.

See why the season of Lent has come at a perfect time?

For today, we find ourselves in a wilderness, and like Jesus, we are famished. We wonder how we will ever resist the anti-Christ spirit that so many people today find so attractive. How do we resist the devil when we feel so depleted, defeated, and powerless?

Now, please hear me this morning when I say that the need for resistance today is not a partisan, political issue. It is not a Democrat or Republican issue. It is a gospel issue. Because we’re not talking about a political attack on a political party, we are talking about an anti-Christ attack on the “least of these” whom Jesus has called us to care for, warning us that how we care for them is “the final judgment of the nations.”

So, when we’re talking about resisting the devil, we are not talking about defending a political or partisan agenda. We are taking about defending and caring for the stranger, the sojourner in our midst, the hungry, the homeless, the imprisoned, and the sick, because we believe this is how God judges a nation, and how we can determine if we are on the path of Jesus. We are talking about resisting the devil who is actively tempting us to get off that path. For example— to look the other way as Congress prepares a budget bill that cuts Medicaid, SNAP and other food programs for the almost 50 million hungry people, mostly children and seniors.[i]

But how do we resist the devil when we are so tired? So weary? How do we resist the devil when we feel overwhelmed and distracted by all the lies, chaos, and cruelty that the devil throws our way? How do we resist the devil when are famished?

This is why Rev. Wallis says the season of Lent has arrived at the perfect time.

For today we remember that Jesus was able to resist the devil – how? Look at the very first verse of our gospel lesson. Because he was “full of the Holy Spirit.” And do you remember what had just happened before Jesus was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness”?

In the previous chapter we read: “…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.’”

So, what does that mean for us?

I believe Jesus was able to resist the devil, even when he was flat worn out, because of his identity as a beloved son of God. Jesus was able to keep climbing the mountain because he was full of the Holy Spirit. And the good news is because we identify with Jesus and with his baptism, because the Holy Spirit has descended upon us, because we also God’s beloved children, because we are also full of the Holy Spirit, we too, even when we are famished, have all the power we need in the world to resist the devil!

And look again at verse one. Luke tells us that Jesus was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” You and I did not just stumble into this wilderness in which we find ourselves today. The Holy Mountain we need to climb today did not just suddenly appear in front of us. The devil standing before us didn’t just arbitrarily show up to stand in our way, tempting us to go another way.

The Holy Spirit has led us to this place of resistance. We are called by God to be here, and we are empowered by the Spirit to resist the devil in our way, to climb the mountain before us, remaining true to the path we are being led by Christ himself to take.

This is our place, our purpose, and our moment to come together as followers of Jesus to embrace this providential Holy Season of Lent praying for the courage show up to advocate for the way of love Jesus taught and embodied.

This is our time to gather in public places to speak out against the idolatry of Christian Nationalism and for liberty and justice for all.

This is our time to resist the power of fascism, the allure of greed, and the appeal of hate, and the charismatic attraction pulling us down a path of self-service, self-indulgence, and self-preservation.

This moment is ours to align our purchases with our purposes by boycotting goods and services from mega corporations today who are bending their knee to the devil.

This is our time to join with people of other faiths, and with people who may not claim a faith but believe in loving our neighbors, especially those Jesus called the least of these, to resist any power which threatens such neighbors.

This is our time to love out loud, to take the church into the streets, so that others might have hope and say of us, “The Holy Spirit has really gotten into them!”

In the words of Rev. Wallis from that email encouraging pastors today: “It’s time to bring our liturgical season of Lent into our historical crisis, right now, and bear the cost of doing so. Lord, have mercy. Amen.”

[i] https://www.cnn.com/2025/03/05/politics/elon-musk-rogan-interview-empathy-doge/index.html

[ii] Sermon inspired from email received from God’s Politics with Jim Wallis, March 6, 2025.

When Monday Morning Comes

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, Sermons Year B2 Comments

Mark 1:9-15 NRSV

One moment, Jesus is overcome with joy in the presence of God as the heavens were “torn apart” and the Spirit of God descends upon him “like a dove.” A voice comes from heaven: “This is my Son the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

And then, without warning, “immediately,” says Mark, Jesus is driven into the wilderness for forty days, hurled into a place of trials and temptations, into a place where God seemed to be absent.

At one time, when I was much younger and more naïve, much less experienced in this world, this passage of scripture used to bother me. For what kind of God would fill Jesus with the light of holy love and joy one moment only to drive him into the dark wilderness in the next moment?

Well, as I have grown older, I no longer struggle with this question. Because the reality is that the Spirit of God does not have to drive us into a wilderness. We are already there. We are there because we are human, and life itself is a rollercoaster of joyous moments and wilderness moments. We encounter suffering and trials in life, not because God drives us into it, but because we are earthly creatures living in a fragmented world.

Like happens with you and me, one moment, Jesus is standing in presence of God. The next moment, he’s standing in a seemingly God-forsaken wilderness.

Last Sunday, we were invited to go the mountaintop with Jesus. It was a magnificent scene as we were standing in the very majestic presence of the Holy One, the creator of all that is. There, we were enveloped by Love, Love’s self.

But then, Monday morning came. It came for me personally when I woke to the news that my Uncle Ernie had died.

The unexpected and harsh news from my brother was especially tragic considering the recent death of Ernie’s beloved wife, my Aunt Ann, who died right after Thanksgiving. Uncle Ernie had been overwhelmed with grief and was having a difficult moving forward.

Like Jesus, one day we experience the holy presence of God, but then, Monday morning comes, and we are hurled into the wilderness.

Did you hear the good news in that sentence? “Like Jesus…” The good news of the Christian faith is that God understands. The good news is that God empathizes. The good news of the gospel is that God has experienced this world as we often experience it through the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

But there’s even better news as we read Mark’s gospel. It’s just one short sentence, but it is a beautiful sentence. Mark says: “And the angels waited on him.”

Angels, representing God’s providence and presence waited on Jesus. Suffering, struggle, and trial are present in the wilderness, but so is God! Throughout Jesus’ forty days, God was not far away, and God was not absent! God was with Jesus, ministering to him, serving him, waiting on him.

And the good news is that as angels were there for Jesus in his wilderness, we can find angels sent by God to be there for us.

Last Saturday, Uncle Ernie’s only child, my cousin Trey, had the joy of coaching the basketball team of his five-year old son, Cooper. Cooper was named after our beloved grandmother Sarah Jane Cooper. If you are a parent you may remember, it was one of those basketball games where the final score is something like 8 to 4. It was the second to last game of the season. During that game, Cooper scored his very first basket. In the moment the ball went through that hoop, knowing my cousin Trey and his love for basketball, I am sure he felt like the heavens had opened up, and the Spirit of God had descended upon him.

The very next day, Trey went to visit his Dad, who he had checked on every weekend since his mother died a couple months ago. Trey opened the front door and called, “Dad! It’s me Trey.” Hearing no answer, he walked into his father’s bedroom and found him lying face down in the bed unresponsive. Observing that he was barely breathing, he immediately called 911.

One day, Trey is experiencing heaven on earth coaching his son’s basketball game. The next day, he’s hurled into a wilderness.

Later that night, after being told by a doctor that his father’s death was imminent, Trey and his wife Kaylee got on the elevator and headed to the ICU floor. As soon as they stepped off the elevator, they immediately heard a kind, inqusitive voice from a nurse who was sitting at a desk: “Trey, is that you?”

The nurse then introduced herself to Trey and Kaylee as the granddaughter of Ms. Ava who lived next door to our grandmother when Trey was growing up. She said: “Trey, when I would visit my grandmother, I remember watching you and your father playing in your grandmother’s backyard.” She then talked about how much she loved our grandmother, so much so, that she named her daughter Sarah Jane after her. Trey said, “we named our son Cooper after her!

Trey said that Ms. Ava’s granddaughter then empathetically walked them to the room where his father was. She then went and found two recliners which she pushed into the room so Trey and Kaylee could sit Uncle Ernie’s bedside his father during his final hours.

The good news is that when we find ourselves in the wilderness, there are angels are among us, reminding us like a nurse with a daughter named Sarah Jane reminded Trey, that God never leaves us nor forsakes us. Even in the darkest experiences in this wilderness called life, God is always present.

The Rev. Fred Rogers put it this way: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”

This is especially good news this Sunday, because whether or not we are ready for it, Monday morning is coming.

On Monday morning, anxiety is usually your alarm. You are awakened with a list of countless worries. If tomorrow morning is anything like the last few mornings, added to our fretful list are the children who were injured in yet another horrific mass shooting. You worry about your own children, your grandchildren, great-grandchildren. You worry knowing that they are unsafe wherever they are, at a ballgame, at school, at a party, even at church. You grieve over the state of our country. You anguish that so many of your friends have acquiesced to the notion that nothing can be done to prevent this from happening again.

The good news, there are angels among us.

Angels like Kansas City Chiefs offensive guard Trey Smith who saw a frightened boy with his father during the shooting and used his WWE title belt to comfort the boy saying: “Hey buddy, you’re the champion. No one’s going to hurt you, man. We’ve got your back.” Then, after they were loaded onto a bus, he talked to the boy about wrestling to keep his mind off the frightening and chaotic scene.

There are angels among us like Chiefs running back Clyde Edwards-Helaire who also sheltered a boy during the shooting. The boy’s mother posted on social media: “Huge thank you to Clyde Edwards #25 for sheltering and getting [my son Zach] to safety… Clyde even went back to check on Zach to make sure he was still doing ok. What a great human being!”

And there are other angels among us living with a renewed determination to continue fighting for sensible gun laws, committed do doing more than sending thoughts and prayers.

This wilderness experience of Jesus is often called “the temptation of Jesus.” I believe we are sometimes tempted to believe that we can make it through our wilderness alone, on our own power. We are tempted to believe that our own physical power or even our own spiritual power can see us through our wilderness experiences.

However, we must be able to humbly recognize that we need another power. For if the Son of God needed angels to wait on him in his wilderness, how much more do we need angels to get through ours? How much more do we need God’s abiding presence? How much more do we need one another? How much more do we need those who have been called to be God’s transforming agents in this world, those who call themselves disciples fighting every day to make this world a more just and peaceful place to live, who are, even now, sitting all around us?

Which leads to this question: Come Monday, who might need us? Who might need us to wait on them, shelter them, calm and comfort them, fight for and vote for their safety.

It’s Sunday morning.  Gathered here in the presence of God, we are loved, and we are affirmed. The heavens are open. God’s Spirit fills this room, and God is speaking to our hearts.

In a few moments, we will receive the bread and the cup, and we will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are loved with a grace that is greater than our sins. We will pray. We will sing a hymn. And we will make commitments and our re-commitments. During the Benediction you will hear the wonderful words: “You are God’s beloved children, with whom God is well pleased.”

Yes, it is Sunday morning, and we are here in the very presence of God. But we can be certain of this:  Monday morning is coming. For some of us Monday morning may come this Sunday afternoon. As sure as we are here, the wilderness coming. The good news is: we will get through it. Something good will come out of it. Our fears will be relieved. Mercy will be given. Justice will prevail. Peace will come.  Love will win.

How can I be so confident?  Because when I look around this room, you know what I see?  I see angels.