THE COURAGE TO BEGIN

Matthew 4:1-11

March 1, 2009 (Lent 1) - Rev. Janet Robertson Duggins

In an effort - maybe futile – to try and keep up with changing technology, I recently joined Facebook. This internet social networking stuff is not just for college students anymore, I understand; lots of people my age and older are joining, setting up a page for themselves, and staying in touch with friends, family and business associates. Techonology-averse though I am, I finally decided to give it a try – as a way to keep up with what my kids are doing, stay in touch with friends, and see if it might be useful for us in the church – for communicating with the youth, for example. After a couple of weeks, I can see the benefits. I’ve managed to reconnect with several friends I hadn’t heard from in years. I can look at my friends’ Facebook profiles to see pictures of their kids and read updates about what they are doing this year… or this afternoon.

But what I didn’t anticipate was that some tricky questions would be involved: For example: do I want to be ‘Facebook friends’ with the relatives? … but can I say no? If I support certain causes, will someone be offended? If I say I like a certain TV show, will somebody think I’m dumb? When we talked about how we might use Facebook to stay in better touch with our youth members, one of the adults on our team wondered out loud, “Will I need to be a little bit more cautious about what I post, to make sure it’s all appropriate to share with the kids?” It’s a good question. There is a kind of “my-life-is-an-open-book” aspect of Facebook that is disconcerting at first. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this.

But I eventually came to the conclusion that what I want for my life is that open book quality. I don’t mean that I want to erase any distinction between private and public, and I certainly don’t want to be one of those narcissistic people who seem to think that everyone they know must be interested in every little thing they do. But is there any reason why I couldn’t share with any of my friends – young, old, related or not – what I do with my time most days, the things that I care passionately about, or what I think about life? There shouldn’t be, I think. I guess I do want to be the kind of person who doesn’t have to make any pretense about my life, or do any compartmentalizing. I don’t want a divided life, or one that’s anything less than honest. I suppose it’s good, now and then, to have a reason to ask yourself if your life is anything like what it ought to be.

I guess Facebook is good for something if it can make you think about stuff like that… what people used to call “character.”

I forget exactly how we settled on our theme for Lent, which is “Cultivating Christ-like Character,” but after we did, I started to think about how odd and quaint it sounds to talk about “character” today. It seems an old-fashioned notion, almost Victorian, perhaps belonging to an era when we were more adamantly certain of what was right and what was wrong than we feel today.

We know there can be more than one way to see a situation. We know that people face tremendous pressures in life that make choices difficult and complex. We do not want to live by or promote guilt. We do not want to parade our own goodness. We do not want to be judgmental or rigid or legalistic. We know that even people who usually act with integrity sometimes mess up, and that even someone who frequently is dishonest and selfish may do something kind.

Maybe we have less high-minded reasons, too: we want to believe we’re ok the way we are, we aren’t any worse than other people (and better than some!). We don’t want the effort or discipline involved in adhering to firm standards, and we don’t like to think of the ways we fall short.

Then, too, Presbyterians have particular reason to hesitate about focusing on “character” because to do so hints at a perspective at odds with our theology. We hold firmly to the conviction that the Christian faith is all about trusting in God’s grace; that it is most emphatically NOT about being good, or becoming better people. It is not about “instilling solid moral values” in our kids. We don’t object to being good or to solid moral values, mind, but we have always understood the temptation of making religion about our own goodness, and we have resisted it.

So let me be clear: our theme this Lent, and this sermon series, is NOT about “character building” in the sense your dad meant when he told you that the hard physical labor of shoveling snow or mowing the lawn would teach you a work ethic and make you a better person. It’s not just about being a better person; it’s about becoming more like Jesus… and that doesn’t happen through our efforts but only as we live more and more closely connected with him.

We might protest that we couldn’t possibly be like Jesus… but remember that Jesus said, “Follow me.” “Do as I have done to you.” “Love one another just as I have loved you.”

And the apostle Paul wrote: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ.”

The idea isn’t that by doing a certain number of things that are like what Jesus did we will eventually become such good human beings that people will start mistaking us for Jesus. Picture instead how small children do what their parent does – they imitate even gestures, the walk, the way the parent carries out daily tasks. This is how they learn what it is to be human. When we follow and observe and listen to Jesus closely enough so that we start acting like him, we too learn what it really means to be human. And in the process, in turn, we gradually understand Jesus and his words more deeply.

This does change us. Not all at once, maybe, but having as our goal to be like Jesus refocuses our hopes and our priorities and our life’s direction. What better time to begin than Lent? And what better place to begin than at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry?

Does this story about Jesus spending 40 days in the desert with no food, and then having this argument with Satan seem … well, a little strange? I confess it does to me.

I’ve often wondered why Jesus went off into the desert just when it looked like everything was a “go” for starting up his new venture in ministry. It seems like he has just publically launched it – what came right before this was Jesus’ baptism with the voice from heaven declaring “This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased” … and here he is disappearing from view for over a month at what we might think was a critical opportunity for him to be spreading his message. The immediate reason, as Matthew gives it, is that the Spirit led him there for the particular purpose of confrontation with the devil.

A close look suggests that we ought to understand it as not so much a story about the temptations Satan offers Jesus, as a story about who Jesus is. The phrase “if you are the Son of God” is probably better translated here as “SINCE you are the Son of God.” It harks back to the previous story, to the declaration that Jesus is God’s Son, and it establishes for the reader exactly who Jesus is and where he stands with respect to evil. Strange and surreal as the story seems, it’s actually intended, I think, to put the ministry Jesus is about to embark on in its real-world context.

Somehow it seems that it was necessary that Jesus begin by facing the truth that this was going to be difficult, painful, isolating – not an easy path to walk or stay with. Not just because of the cross and the persecution that brought it about, but also the sharing in and being daily witness to the struggle of being human. Forces of evil and destruction, sometimes masquerading as good things, are part of life in the world. It is important for us to know that Jesus faced that reality head on, right from the start - no denial, no minimizing, no rationalizations, no compromises. We see him claim the COURAGE that the journey will require, the courage be faithful to himself and his purpose.

We need to know, when we hear Jesus say “Follow me,” that some things about following him won’t be easy. I don’t like that, because I’m not a very brave person. But at the same time, I know that the path of faith doesn’t involve being blind to suffering, to the needs of others, to the power of evil, to the cost of discipleship, to my own weaknesses, to the difficulties of staying faithful… but rather it means facing all of that with honesty and courage. I’d rather run away, or better yet pretend that that there is an easy way to follow Jesus. But Jesus didn’t run away or pretend the path was easy. Following Jesus means studying his reactions, his way of being, his character… and, here,his courage.

I see Jesus here having the courage to face the siren call of evil (which of course always makes it seem like it might not be so bad after all!) … and to see it for what it was, and turn away.

I see him with the courage to trust in God even when that looks, on the surface, to be irrational and risky.

He is our example of the courage to choose the right over the easy, to suffer, and to persist, to speak the truth however difficult. Jesus didn’t falter in love even though it caused him to suffer. He embodies the courage to be who you are, as God has made you and called you.

It is always easier to do nothing, to stay the same, to acquiesce instead of asking “is this really what God wants?” Jesus’ way takes courage. Thank God he doesn’t just send us down that path, but he leads the way and walks with us and shares with us his courage, so that we can begin the journey.

Resources:

Matthew (Interpretation Commentary) by Douglas R. A. Hare

The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas a Kempis