Sermon – Psalm 32 / Matthew 4:1–11
In the 1970s two scientists at Stanford University did an experiment called the Marshmallow Test. They asked a child to sit in a chair with a marshmallow on the table in front of them. The children were told that they could eat the marshmallow straight away, or they could wait 15 minutes and they would get a second marshmallow if they didn’t eat the first one during that time. The researchers later studied the life outcomes of the children and found that those who were able to wait and earn the second marshmallow also went on to have better scores in a number of measures later in life.
If you have time, go home and Google it – there are some wonderful videos of repeats of the experiment where you can see the children being seriously tempted: sniffing the marshmallow, trying to take the smallest unnoticeable nibble, or simply being unable to avoid tucking in. It is fascinating to watch the children wrestling with temptation.
I wonder how many of us think of Lent a bit like that?
Those of us who have given things up for Lent might feel a bit like the child sitting on the chair – particularly if all we can focus on is the thing we have decided we are not allowed to have. We wonder whether we will live up to the test or whether we will fall short.
We could also look at our reading from Matthew’s Gospel and imagine that God is like the scientist – sending Jesus into the desert knowing that at the end of 40 days of fasting his defences would be down and he would be easily tempted, wanting to check out whether Jesus was really up to the mission he needed to fulfil to save the world. And sure enough, when he is at his lowest ebb, Satan appears and presents Jesus with his best temptations.
But I want to suggest that if we look at our readings closely, perhaps we might find that Lent is not intended as an endurance test which will predict our success at following the Christian life. Rather, it has a message of grace and hope which is an encouragement to us all.
The church year works against us here. We heard the part of the story which precedes this passage way back on 11th January. Jesus is driven straight out into the desert from his baptism, when we first hear God tell Jesus exactly who he is: “You are my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” On that day, when Absa and Amir were baptised, we reflected on the fact that when we follow Jesus in baptism we too can hear those words spoken over us.
Jesus hears them before he has done any ministry at all. He doesn’t earn them, and neither do we. They are the free gift of our heavenly Father which we simply have to accept.
We usually think that there are three temptations that Jesus faces in the desert: to turn stones into bread, to leap from the temple, and to seize power by worshipping Satan. But there is a subtle temptation which sits behind all of them. Twice Satan says to Jesus, “If you are the Son of God…” – if.
The first temptation is for Jesus to forget his God-given identity as a beloved Son. I think that’s very relatable. How often do we doubt God’s promises? How often do we doubt our home in heaven? How often do we doubt that we are beloved children of God?
I actually think that the other temptations are also relatable. I doubt any of us have been tempted to transform stones into bread, or to leap from a high building to test whether God’s angels will catch us, or to want the whole world to bow down and worship us. But are we ever tempted to treasure our comfort above everything else – to rely on ourselves to meet our needs rather than trust God? To say, “I can sort myself out. I am self-sufficient.” That is what Jesus would have done had he used his power to feed himself with bread created from rocks.
Are we ever tempted to seek approval from the world, to make ourselves the centre of attention? When we talk to others and share only the edited highlights that make us look that little bit better – to say, “Look at me”? That is what Jesus would have done had he thrown himself from the temple, the busy centre of Jewish life, only to be rescued by angels. Everyone would have known he was special then.
Are we ever tempted to seize power and control in situations where we feel defenceless? To ensure that we are the successful ones, that nobody sees any vulnerability? To feel entitled to things that others do not have and to forget how fortunate we are to have everything that has been given to us, overestimating our own role in achieving it? That is what Jesus would have done had he accepted Satan’s authority in order to have power over the world.
You would be perfectly justified in saying, “Hang on Emma – you said something about grace and hope. These deeply human failings which we all experience don’t feel very hopeful.”
Well, that is where the first week’s theme from our Life-Giving Habits for Lent comes in. This week we are reading about sharing in prayer. Prayer is the gift which helps us in that walk. Prayer is the antidote to our temptations – prayer allows us to sit with the marshmallow and not be consumed by thinking about it.
This week we will look at different kinds of prayer (it’s not too late to collect a booklet), all of which we can see in our reading from Psalm 32 today.
The prayer of adoration – we recognise who God is and it brings us joy. The psalmist says: “Rejoice in the Lord; shout for joy.”
The prayer of confession – we get things wrong but can always turn to God for a fresh start: “I said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord, and you forgave the guilt of my sin.”
The prayer of thanksgiving reminds us that we are not self-sufficient but dependent on a generous God: “You are a place for me to hide in; you preserve me from trouble.”
The prayer of lament – we realise we are not in control but we cry out with those who suffer: “For I held my tongue; my bones wasted away, through my groaning all the day long.”
And the prayers of intercession and supplication – we know that it is only God who can meet so many needs, and all we need is the humility to ask: “Therefore let all the faithful make their prayers to you in time of trouble.”
When we pray we know that God sees everything. Whatever we might want to say about our self-sufficiency, he meets us as a loving Father who knows everything we need. However much we may seek to be successful or the centre of attention, we can come into his presence and be fully seen and known, with all our good bits and our failings. Whenever we feel out of control, in prayer we can be held safe amidst the storm.
So may our Lenten journey start with prayer, and may we know that as beloved children of God he is always more ready to listen to us than we are to pray.