Friends, I’d like to introduce you to an old friend. Her name is Lent.

Lent is a season in the church’s liturgical calendar where, for forty days, we reflect on the journey to the cross. It mirrors the forty days Jesus spent in the desert following his baptism. During that time, he was visited by three temptations and chose to give them up.

In today’s scripture, we read how Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where he fasted for forty days and nights. As a Catholic, I remember the Friday fish fries and half-hearted attempts to give something up—for about four days… or hours, whichever came first. Our Orthodox siblings go fully vegan for Lent. Fasting, in some form, is present in every major religion. Judaism observes fasting before Yom Kippur. Islam observes the holy month of Ramadan. These are just two examples—I won’t bore you with more.

Fasting is good for the soul. There are things we’ve grown too accustomed to—things we think we need but really don’t. It’s good to fast from certain actions or behaviors. It’s good to take stock of where we are.

Jesus had a vision at his baptism. He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and heard a voice from heaven say, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” When something like that happens, it’s good to take some time to process it.

Now, we can get hung up on the whole “he was tempted by the devil” part. Temptation is real for all of us. But Jesus and the devil—or temptation, or his ego, or whatever you want to call it—have a Bible fight in the desert.

With the knowledge of his belovedness, Jesus is tempted by wealth, signified by the bread temptation. He is tempted by the promise of divine protection at the temple. And finally, he is tempted by power, offered all the kingdoms of the world.

It is good to take stock of how we are handling our own belovedness. Lent is a wonderful time to do this.

A.J. Levine reminds us that Jesus announced his journey to the cross clearly three times, and his followers didn’t believe him. We don’t want to believe him either. So we have Lent as a reminder.

We don’t tell the stories of the happy glory days in Galilee—where Jesus fed the five thousand or raised the dead. Lent calls us to be reflective. We’re facing death, so we ask: What should we have done that we didn’t do?

A.J. asks a lot of questions. She writes, “…the story of Jesus’ last days brings with it several challenges: What do we stand for? What do we believe in? When do we stand up for those beliefs?”

She continues, “We can also watch the disciples and ask ourselves: When have we denied or betrayed? How can we make it right? Jesus talks about taking up the cross. The Passion narrative shows him doing that. Can those who claim to be his followers do the same?”[1]

Jesus was always walking toward the margins, never the mansions.

He walked away from wealth when he rejected the bread.

Many Christians have forgotten this. This is the heresy of the prosperity gospel—the idea that following Jesus means you’ll be rewarded with money and possessions. But Jesus said in Matthew 19:24, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven.”

That’s a hard one. Especially for preachers in churches that used to be basketball arenas. When disaster struck, the church doors remained closed to the cold and hungry. It seems like priorities were confused. It seems like temptations weren’t overcome.

For one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.

Jesus was brought up to the pinnacle of the temple and tempted with protection—much like how many seek religion for fire insurance.

As long as they feel they’re going to heaven, that’s where it stops.

I see a popular pastor often talk about “getting closer to God.” There’s a lot of talk about how, if you have strong faith, good things will happen.

That sounds nice. But that’s not my problem.

Me and God? We’re fine.

Spend time in the Bible. Pray. Walk in the woods. Listen to music. Look at art that takes your breath away. There—you will find God.

What I need help with is connecting to my neighbor.

The Golden Rule is two parts: Love God. Love neighbor.

What cross are we bearing? What have we taken up? Or are we only here for our own protection and assurance? If we stop at loving God and don’t move to loving neighbor, we’re not doing the work.

We are called to be the hands and feet of Christ—and those have holes in them.

We must bear pain in building the kingdom of God—to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, and visit the sick and the prisoner. That’s Matthew 25. The sheep and the goats. It’s about doing for the least of these—that is the mark of faith.

Finally: power.

Jesus was tempted by political power.

Listen—Todd Bauer once said that everyone gets one conspiracy theory. Like aliens are real. Or there was a second gunman on the grassy knoll. That way, you don’t tumble into flat Earth or worse. One theory. That’s it.

My one conspiracy theory?

The Moral Majority is the worst thing to happen to the church and politics ever.

Starting in the 1970s, some conservative Christians wanted more political power. They gave into the temptation Jesus rejected. If we can get our people to think that belief is all that matters, we can get them to vote how we want.

This is all documented in the film Bad Faith: Christian Nationalism’s Unholy War on Democracy (2024). The film investigates the rise of Christian nationalism in the U.S. and its impact on democracy. It traces the movement’s origins—from Paul Weyrich and Jerry Falwell to events like January 6 and Project 2025.

What I fear is what I wrote in my doctorate:

One possible future of the church is to become a chaplaincy department of an American political party—serving to theologically justify and bless one platform over another.

Churches have always been political. They should continue to be.

Politics is about how we live together.

But partisanship? That’s different.

Partisanship means supporting one political party over another. We are watching the rise of Christian nationalism—a wholesale sellout of many churches to a political ideology.[2]

The temptations of wealth, protection, and power are alive and well.

This is why we have Lent.

Lent can be a season of renewal. It doesn’t have to be melancholy. It can be a joyful exploration of your spirit. Lent shows us the joy of minimalism.

As Mr. Rogers said, “Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.”

This isn’t just about giving something up. Lent is about pruning. It’s about clearing your soul of what blocks your connection to God and neighbor. Less excess, less distraction.

Don’t be afraid to go deep. Don’t be afraid to give things up. You don’t need them anyway. You can’t take them with you.

And maybe—just maybe—pruning back might help you see heaven within your midst. That way, when you eventually turn back to dust—as every living thing must—you’ll recognize heaven when you arrive.

So let’s give it up for Lent! What will you give up? What cross will you take up?

Do you struggle with confidence? Maybe give up negative self-talk or self-deprecating jokes.  Or you can take on going to therapy to help gain confidence and new neural pathways.

You might feel helpless and overwhelmed. Maybe you can give that up. Work on a committee. Find a cause. Call your representatives. Take time to be where your feet are.

If you haven’t done Lent in a while, this might be a good time to try it again. There are a lot of gifts in this season.

AJ tells this wonderful story. “Many years ago, when my children were quite young, Vanderbilt divinity students would sometimes babysit them when my husband and I had an evening meeting (or, when we just needed to go out to dinner by ourselves). At times, the children’s two favorite babysitters were unable to come because of their field education placements. They may have been on a mission trip, or they were working at Nashville’s ‘Room In The Inn’ program. My children said, ‘They can’t come because they are being Christian.’ My husband and I thought that was a splendid definition of the term ‘Christian.’”[3]

I do, too. Let us take this season and be Christian as Christ would have us be. Simply. Deeply. Loving God and neighbor. Walking away from the temptations of wealth, protection, and power. Amen.

Works Cited

[1] Amy-Jill Levine, Entering the Passion of Jesus: A Beginner’s Guide to Holy Week (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2018). Page 14.

[2] Luke Lindon, Belonging at the End of the Aberrant Time: Adaptive Leadership as Discernment for the Church (MTSO, May 16, 2022). Page 132.

[3] Levine, Entering the Passion of Jesus. Page 16.