We know what it’s like to be in the wilderness and experience the temptation to question our baptismal identity. We know what that’s like…and it’s not fun. It leaves us famished and exhausted.
Matthew 4:1-11 (Lent 1A. Diaconal Sunday, Gloria Dei Lutheran Church)
I have to admit that when I first read this text in light of Diaconal Sunday I was a little bit discouraged. I wasn’t sure how the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness might be a way to talk about diaconal ministry or the ministry of deacons in the church. But it turns out that, actually, I think there are a couple of connections.
So let’s just make sure we have the story straight in our heads. Shortly after Jesus’ baptism, Jesus is led into the wilderness to be tempted. He fasts for 40 days, identifying immediately with the 40 years the Israelites spent in the wilderness between Egypt and the Promised Land and the 40 days of the flood. The text tells us that at the end of this time he’s hungry. Let me just say that when I think about this text, I often think that Jesus was tempted for 40 days. But as I read it this week, I wonder if the temptation comes at or near the end of his fast. I can see how the text can be read either that the temptations happened over 40 days, or they happened after 40 days. For today’s purposes, I’m going to assume that the temptations happen—or at least intensify—after the hunger of fasting has set in.
So we have Jesus in the wilderness feeling hungry, and the devil coming to Jesus with a solution. Right away what’s being tested is Jesus’ core sense of identity—“IF you are the Son of God…” Remember, just before this, Jesus is baptized and the heavens open and a voice says “this is my son.” But when we are hungry and desperate, even the basic truths about who we are can be hard to remember, and we are tempted to equate our identity with our ability to alleviate our discomfort—turn these rocks into bread and alleviate your hunger as proof that you are indeed the son of God. I think we know something about this temptation to establish our identity by alleviating our immediate sense of hunger.
The second temptation also begins with Jesus’ identity—IF you are the son of God, throw yourself off this high pinnacle and prove to yourself and others that God won’t let bad things happen to good people. That’s Deacon Michelle’s version of it, anyway. And we know this temptation too, don’t we? Do we ever catch ourselves drawing lines between people based on their levels of suffering, and equating God’s favour with a lack of suffering? Maybe we do it another way, by wondering why God doesn’t swoop in and save good people from bad situations.
But Jesus’ response in both of these situations is not to solve the problem or prove himself. He is hungry. He is the son of God. He could probably turn the stones into bread. He probably could command God’s angels to save him if he jumped off a tall pinnacle. But he doesn’t solve the problem to prove himself. He stays hungry. He stays in the wilderness. He reaffirms a trust in God and God’s word that isn’t based on his comfort or success.
This pattern of staying present in the wilderness, resisting the urge to prove ourselves, and trusting God’s word is a powerful lens for understanding what deacons do in the world today.
If you ask the 30 deacons in the ELCIC to define or describe what being a deacon means, you’ll probably get 30 answers. But within those thirty answers there will probably be a theme of feeling compelled to enter the pain of the world to bring hope and comfort. There will probably be a theme of wanting others—especially the marginalized, oppressed, and suffering—to know that God’s word is trustworthy and that God is deeply committed to wholeness and restoration. There will probably be a theme of being willing to put the needs and pain of others before the pressure for selfish success or achievement. At the core of what it means to be a deacon is something about following the Spirit into the wilderness and facing the temptations and hungers of the world with a confidence in God’s love and trustworthiness.
Like Jesus, in our baptism we receive the promise of being beloved children of God. Almost immediately, the world tries to make us question that identity. If you are really a beloved child of God, why don’t you deserve your friend’s toy truck? If you are really a beloved child of God, why can’t you get straight As in school and win in every sport you try? If you are really a beloved child of God, why doesn’t life work out the way you think it should in the time frame that you’d like? If God really loved you, why do your friends and family suffer, or why does your body break down, or why does the world seem so out of control?
Friends, we know what it’s like to be in the wilderness and experience the temptation to question our baptismal identity. We know what that’s like…and it’s not fun. It leaves us famished and exhausted.
And it is this calling—this reminder of our baptismal identity—that we carry into the wider world, into the messy, challenging spaces where God’s people serve.
This summer I joined deacons from around the world for the World Diakonia Assembly in Moshi, Tanzania—the first time it was held in Africa. Diakonia is a global network of diaconal organizations, and DOTAC (Diakonia of the Americas and Caribbean) is the regional body that includes ELCIC deacons alongside deacons from the US, the Caribbean, and South America from multiple denominations. The theme of the assembly was “dancing the faith, drumming up hope,” and it was inspiring to spend a week with deacons from so many traditions and cultures, united in our calling to serve others, work for justice, and witness God’s transformative love.
At the assembly, I was struck by a powerful conviction as a North American: it was humbling to hear scholars from Africa address the realities of climate change, gender-based violence, and the ongoing impacts of colonialism and global inequality. Listening to their insights challenged me to recognize the ways Western perspectives have shaped these issues, and to learn from the creative, transformative, and restorative work being done by churches and deacons in African communities. We also visited sites to see firsthand the effects of poverty, disease, and lack of education, and to witness how faith communities are responding with hope and innovation. These experiences reminded me that sitting with the world’s discomfort—and listening deeply—is an essential part of faithful diaconal ministry.
It’s definitely uncomfortable to sit in the wilderness with the hunger of the world and others around you. It’s uncomfortable to sit in the wilderness and face the reality of our own hunger. But what diaconal ministry reminds us of is that it is exactly in our experiences of wilderness and hunger that God meets us. Jesus, who went through his own wilderness temptation, meets us in ours, and reminds us of a truth that the world would often like us to forget: we are beloved children of God, and God’s word is trustworthy. We don’t have to rush to fix, solve, or prove ourselves. We can be vulnerable and honest with ourselves and each other about the reality of pain and suffering, and we can follow Jesus into the wilderness to the transformational gift of resurrection life.
Friends, Lent invites us to step into our own deserts, trusting God’s love in the midst of uncertainty and limitation. We journey into the wilderness with the mark of ashes on our forehead reminding us that we are dust. We are finite. But we also enter into Lent with the reminder of our baptism: we are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. We are dust, and it is into the dirt and clay that God breathes life. We are finite, and it is the limits of death that God removes in the resurrection.
So today we stand in the desert with Jesus as we reflect on diaconal ministry. Deacons in our church are folks who are quirky enough to stay in the messy space between fullness and hunger. They seek to bring hope into the wilderness areas of health care, social work, and indigenous reconciliation. Some even try to bring hope into the wilderness of the church. But it’s not just deacons who follow Jesus into the wilderness areas of our world. Diaconal Sunday reminds us that in our baptism we are each called to partner with God and the church around the world in the work of healing, wholeness, and restoration. We don’t have to give in to the temptation to prove our worth and value through quick fixes or great displays of power. We can sit with the discomfort of the variety of hungers in our lives and the world around us and walk with others through the wilderness towards the hope and promise of the resurrection as we are held, nourished and sent by the One who meets us in our own wilderness and reminds us…again and again…of who and whose we are.