Why struggle?
A message for the first Sunday in Lent
Deuteronomy 26.1-11 ; Luke 4.1-13
View a pre-recorded version of this message on YouTube.
Why did Jesus go into the desert? What was he seeking? And why do we observe Lent, forty days of prayer and fasting, where we read a book together? What is the point of this season, Lent, in a time where it seems we do not need to deny ourselves much of anything? Whatever we want is a click—and a credit card statement—away. If we can imagine it, it is likely we can do some version of it. Why deny ourselves anything?
Jesus fasted in the wilderness for forty days to focus: to let go of all of the things that were holding him back and distracting him from his calling into ministry. Those three temptations were always with him—the ability to shape the world as he wanted, whether through military might, be the one whose magnanimity provided all with bread, or to chose a life that avoided all pain and suffering. But Jesus knew that to be free, truly free, humanity has to struggle through life. Without struggle, we do not appreciate what we have. Jesus would have to struggle with those three temptations all through his life. The fast clarified what they were.
And guess what? So do we!
We have to wrestle, as our ancient forebear Jacob wrestled with God by the banks of the River Jordan (Genesis 32.22-32), with those shortcuts that we think might make life easier. Jesus emphasised what God has taught us all along: there is no shortcut to this life. We have to live it, struggle with it, and find the freedom God has promised us through the struggle. Military might will cause death. Giving away bread, rather than creating equitable and just societies where the bread is shared justly, will mean we do not appreciate one another’s labour nor the possibilities of the earth. Avoiding pain and risk means that we will become inward-focused and selfish. If we are wrestle with life, God will remain faithful to us throughout, even when we lose faith and hope in God; but we will have to wrestle to find freedom and hope. But as we do so, we will find space to live and celebrate as God so much wishes us to do.
So the first part is to recognise that we will struggle. The second is, for how long?
The number forty exists in many places throughout Scripture, noticeably here but also in the forty years of pilgrimage during which the Israelites journeyed in the desert. They moved from enslavement to founding a new home in a land promised them by God. ‘Forty’ represents a totality. For the ancient Israelites, 40 years meant a new generation would inhabit the promised land, but not the one that led people out of enslavement. Not even Moses got to step foot in the land of milk and honey. Without him and his generation, the younger one would not have been able to inherit a new future: they would have been locked into the hopelessness of enslavement, the same bitter life tasted by their parents. An entire generation sacrificed their wellbeing to make it possible for a new generation, and a new covenant with God, to live thriving lives.
In their case, the forty years was a total generational shift, a death of one generation who trusted in God, that made possible life for another. The sacrifice of that generation, and the faithfulness of God to see the next into the land promised to them, is memorialised in the ceremony we read today in Deuteronomy. They and their struggle are never forgotten.
So for the Israelites, ‘forty’ represents the time needed for a new way of living in the world to take root. For Jesus forty days was the totality of time needed to die to one way of living, trusting in God, so that he could be fully alive, shifting to a ministry that would show humanity another way of living in the world.
So what does forty days mean for us, in Lent, in 2025?
We live in a ‘noisy’ world. There are things that distract us from focussing on what we think we need to do, or even remembering what it is we know we ought to remember. We are distracted. This uncentres us. We make bad decisions, wrong judgments, or mill about without ever truly appreciating or understanding the life we have been given. It never ceases to amaze me at how many people are ‘busy.’ When I ask people how they are, the word ‘busy’ seems to occupy the largest proportion of answers. They tell me I must be so busy, too. For me, it is one of my shames that people see me as ‘busy.’ It is something I must work on, for why should I be ‘busy’? I should be praying. I should be being with people. I should be present in communities. I should be studying the Scripture. But busy? I need to fast from being busy.
Just as a time of fasting and prayer focused Jesus, so too might it focus us. The ‘fast’ can be any practice which heightens our awareness of God, by denying us something that we routinely think we deserve. Traditionally that has been food. But it could also be fasting ‘to’ something: taking on a practice which re-allocates your time: setting a daily period of prayer, adopting a prayer book or a smartphone app which helps you guide yourself on a period of fasting from busyness or distraction. If you think giving up chocolate for Lent is sufficient to do that, then perhaps it is.
But whatever it is, it should be a ‘discipline.’ We need discipline, because it is these disciplines that help us focus on God, and live this gift of life the best we can. These disciplines help us not to forget the sacred stories.
Which brings us to the second point: we need to remember our stories. The stories remind us of the gratitude we can have at God’s faithfulness. In Deuteronomy, we are given an instruction for a ceremony that is to be celebrated after the Israelites come into the promised land after forty years of wandering, freed at last from enslavement. They repeat the story, ‘a wandering Aramean was my ancestor,’ and tell the story of how they became harshly treated, how God ‘heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, our oppression.’ And the first fruits of the labour of that land ‘flowing with milk and honey’ are offered to God, after which a celebration is held. Our remembrances need not be dour times of recalling, but opportunities for gratitude and joy.
So why should we also fast in the forty days of Lent? So that we might die to that which detracts from our life, in order to live to that which gives fullness of life. Jesus modelled it (but I none of the disciples were asked to do it as a condition of their faithfulness to God. It is, rather, a practice we have adopted to sharpen our appreciation for life).
So what should we do?
“I did not know that I could only get the most out of life by giving myself up to it,” the British psychoanalyst Marion Milner wrote under a pseudonym in her superb century-old field guide to the art of knowing what you really want.[1] We have so much that holds us back from living. Yet God did not lead the Israelites to freedom for anything but life. Jesus did not go into the wilderness except to burn off that dross, that temptation, that would hold him back from living. We are invited to fast and pray so that we can live this life to its fullness.
That ‘noise’ is only going to increase. It has been doing so throughout your lifetimes, and it promises to do so as we keep going. The global situation is shifting. And if we are all too busy, what time will we make to listen? What time will we make to be with one another? What time will we make to pay? We are in threatening times, and we need to pay attention. If war is not coming, climate change certainly is: we are emerging from winter and facing an increasingly unpredictable summer. The solutions that we rely upon government and think tanks to deliver might never come without our participation.
A few years ago, in this church, we prepared ourselves for that, to some extent. We asked ourselves what values we wanted to see outlast unpredictable global situations, outlast even this church. What we said was:
1. Community. We know that connection to one another is the heart of Christian life. ‘Reconciliation is the heart of the Gospel,’ as Sam Wells says. Our fasting, praying, and storytelling, can help us better live our lives in Community.
2. Contemplation. We know we need space to quiet our minds and create space for personal spiritual growth. I wonder if our monthly Taizé services are part of this offering not just to ourselves, but our wider community?
3. Creativity. The 13th Century Christian philosopher Thomas Aquinas said that the closest thing to contemplation was play. When we are playful and creative, we awaken our connectedness to one another, improving our compassion for one another and our community.
4. Care. We care for one another. But we also care for this place. In their manual for avoiding burnout, Carroll Juliano and Loughlan Sofield link being filled with life with radiating compassion. Compassion ‘brings life both to the giver and to the receiver.’[2] To them, the only legitimate criteria for judging the quality of our service at work or in ministry is compassion.[3] This is linked to listening—the psychiatrist Karl Menninger claims that what makes people unwell is not being listened to, and what makes them well is being listened to. In our call to go out a listen to our community, what we could be offering is truly a ministry of compassion.[4]
5. Celebration. We need to celebrate this life and this world. We need to celebrate the faithfulness of God that makes the struggle worthwhile, as the ancient Israelites did; as Jesus did with his disciples around tables.
There is so much that will try and hold us back, distract us, make us so over-busy that we have not got time for living this gift of life with one another. We must wrestle with that, and in the struggle find the time for community, contemplation, creativity, care, and celebration. The forty days of Lent are an opportunity to pick up a practice that helps you do it, not just alone, but together. I pray, friends, that you will individually, and that we will, together.
May God bless you and keep you.
May God’s face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you.
May God’s face turn upon you, and give you peace.
Amen.
[1] In Popova, ‘Against Self-Improvement’.
[2] Juliano, Sofield, and Struben, How to Avoid Burnout, 20.
[3] Juliano, Sofield, and Struben, 26.
[4] Menninger, in Juliano, Sofield, and Struben, 28.