First Sunday of Lent
At this, Jesus said to him,
“Get away, Satan!
It is written:
The Lord, your God, shall you worship
and him alone shall you serve.”
Then the devil left him and, behold,
angels came and ministered to him. – Matthew 4:10-11
As my children have gotten older, there are more and more instances where I feel powerless to shield them from life‘s unfairness and inevitable pain: a teacher who doesn’t understand them, a former friend treating them unkindly or disappointment when a beloved extracurricular no longer feels life-giving. I can offer words of encouragement and support, but I cannot fight their battles for them, or shield them from discomfort.
The continuum of grace as a response to our sinfulness plays out in today’s readings. God cares for Adam and Eve in the aftermath of their expulsion from the garden of Eden. I resist the urge to assume the sins of Eve and resign myself to the inevitability of failure. By my own shortcomings, have I doomed my children to repeat the same patterns of self-doubt? Today’s scriptures reveal God’s faithfulness and mercy to each one of us when we inevitably fall short on our journey with him. I am imperfect, but even in the face of my imperfections God has not abandoned me, just as he has not abandoned Adam and Eve after their expulsion from the Garden of Eden.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus sits under the attacks of the false spirit: tempting him to power, greatness, and self-preservation. As Jesus resists, Satan grows bolder and more insistent. I imagine myself sitting with Jesus receiving the attacks of the false spirit. The words Satan hurls are attacks on the people I love most, while challenging my own ability and shortcomings.
Who are you to fight against these demons?
You make so many mistakes, you fall into the same cycles as self-doubt. Who are you to help them overcome it?
Together, Jesus and I accept all my fears and reject the demons that drag me down as well. Jesus does not just reject the temptation that Satan throws at Him; He also encourages me and gives me the strength to do the same. I am tempted not by greatness, but by security. Rather than riches, I long for peace in my own heart and in the world around me.
I allow myself to relish the image of Jesus sitting alongside me, weathering the attacks, and storms that life places in my path. The pain and sadness do not disappear, but I rest in the confidence that I do not face them alone. I pray that my children also sense and feel that I am with them, even when I cannot solve or fix their problems for them.
Photo by Yosi Prihantoro on Unsplash