Us folks have a propensity to always want things to be different than they are. We always have something to be dissatisfied about. I notice in myself that I tend to be perpetually dissatisfied with the weather, always ready for it to be warmer than it is or colder than it is, except for maybe five days a year when this particular Goldilocks of weather is content that it’s “just right.” It’s ridiculous, I know. I laugh at myself for it, but it doesn’t stop me from being a Goldilocks!

We want to be richer, feel more in control than we are, be healthier, be happier, be more thin or less thin, or have better hair…who knows! The list of potential things to be disgruntled about is essentially infinite! Some of these things are somewhat silly, but some of them are very legitimate wants. We want our relationships to be functional. We want our politics to be respectful and sane. We want our communities to be safe and people taken care of. We want peace and well-being for our ecosystems.

We want so many things to be different than they are and we want control over how all that change is going to happen.

In our gospel today, the devil is testing Jesus to see if he’s like us. Does Jesus also want it all to be different with lots of control about how it’s all going to happen? Is Jesus going short circuit God’s plan by making the stones become bread? Is he going to decide that he should amass political and economic power as the obvious and most direct way to hurry the Kingdom of God along? Is he going to decide to take his place at the peak of the temple, towering over the massive structure as a dominating religious force? Or one who is invulnerable to the pitfalls of life?

Is he going to use his authority and capacity to leave behind the path of human vulnerability and ambiguity or stay true to his path of walking with us in our weakness?

We know the answer to these questions, of course. Jesus would not be Jesus if he said yes to any of these options.

Instead of yes, he responds with a consistent no. He didn’t jump at the opportunity for reality to be different than what it was. It’s not that he didn’t see injustice, of course. Nor did he avoid action to address it. What he didn’t do was reach for power and control to force that change to happen.

In a similar vein, we hear Moses teaching the Israelites a gratitude practice in our text from Deuteronomy. The Israelites were to remember where they came from and how that happened. The generations to come were to remember that their identity also includes being immigrants and liberated slaves themselves. They were to remember that they were given the gifts of life, freedom, and a place to be. In response to this remembrance, they were to give their first fruits to God and then share what they had with those who had no land themselves, the Levites and the aliens in the land.

In these texts, we are being offered here different ways to approach life and time, in particular. We can be oriented towards the future (always thinking ahead), the past (always remembering and dwelling in the past), or the present (just attending to what is happening now without much concern for the past or future). I would say, as a culture, we tend to be very future oriented folks. I wonder if this is part of our restlessness of always wanting things to be different than they are, even if they are just fine … like the weather.

It strikes me, though, that this future-oriented focus is a recipe for anxiety. It is inherently true that we cannot tell the future. We don’t know what’s going to happen and we have limited control. So, if we live our lives staring into the future like we stare through a windshield on a road trip, not thinking about where we’ve been and blazing through where actually are as fast as we can, where is our source of wisdom? Where do we find gratitude? Where is peace? How can we feel the Spirit nudging us if our focus is always out there in front of us? Where is hope in that? Where is love?

Jesus and Moses both seem to be grounded in both the present and past, while Satan (our testing prosecutor) seems to be future-oriented. Satan is selling a variety of illusory ways to exert control over future outcomes. He’s selling false security, power, and invulnerability. These are highly tempting things, particularly for those of us who are future-oriented and have our faces staring out the windshield, down the road as far as we can see.

Jesus tells us that physical comfort, security, and power are not everything. We are to only serve God. This is a big statement for someone who is a citizen of a subjugated people. The situation of today’s Gaza and West Bank, where Jesus was born, is not wildly different than what the Jewish people of that time experienced under Roman occupation and eventual siege. For Jesus to decline assurances of physical security and the physical power to stop subjugation of his people, these were very big No’s!

He is trusting in God to deliver not just him from the desert (which the Spirit does in the next verse btw), but also that God will deliver all people. There will be no bombs in this liberation. There will be no use of domination and control. The kingdom of God will emerge organically, like yeast, like the growth of a mustard seed. Jesus is grounded in scripture, in his identity of one liberated from Egypt along with all his fellow Jews, and he is grounded in his active relationship with God who will guide him and meet his needs now. This was his source of hope for the future. Jesus trusts in God’s goodness and provision.  

In the Deuteronomy text, Moses was worried that once the people crossed into the promise land, they would forget where they came from and who saved them once they were comfortable, well fed, and relatively safe. For Moses, gratitude and hope were grounded in remembering God’s past liberation and provision. He was worried the people would believe more in their own power and control than in God’s care, grace, and love. He was worried that the people would fall for Satan’s false promises of human control over our future.

So, what does that mean for us today? I wonder if we are also called to shift our focus from anxiety about the future, in whatever form that comes for you, to be deeply grounded in the present and the past. To be grounded in the past and present, doesn’t mean that we ignore the future, but perhaps we may not feel the need to grasp at the illusion of control over the future. We may find more reliable sources of hope and wisdom.

So, we are called to shift our focus, which is what it actually means to repent. And it is indeed Lent, the time of repentance! This is the time of changing and shifting our hearts and minds.

Our focus this week in Lent is on our world’s inanimate matter – stones, water, air, stars, and all the like. God is everywhere, infusing our world, every moment, including the very stones surrounding us. You may have noticed, God does not seem to infuse our anxieties and maelstroms that live in our heads. When we settle into this world of great provision, we become aware of God’s presence. Our heart beats settle down, our breaths deepen, our faces soften, our shoulders relax, and then we may find that we experience beauty, hope, and even joy.

We may also find hope and assurance when we remember our stories of God’s grace and liberation in our lives and in our shared histories. We can see that people have been brought through horrific times. We have been brought through moments that we thought might ruin us forever, individually and collectively.

Staring only down the road with our futures hurtling at us will likely not fill us with hope. It may not help us be skillful in our action. If you need a word of hope, what are those stories that you can hold on to? I always find myself reaching for the Civil Rights struggle or stories from South Africa. I also love to see stories of people continuing to practice their faith, sing songs, or teach children amid Gaza’s rubble. I also love to watch the children where Nate and I live, which I believe is one of East Wenatchee’s poorest neighborhoods. If you look to see lack, you’ll see it. But you’ll also see kids happily getting on and off the bus for school running for home or for the one who is waiting to greet them.

In the arc of our days, lives, and generations, God is at work. But we may not see it as well if we are laser focused on the future, staring down the road. So, this week we lift up the rocks and mountains, water, air, and stars to remind us of the stability of God’s good creation.

I’ll end today with this portion of the Prayer of St. Patrick, a man and saint who also faced a world of uncertainty and anxiety, but met it with faith in Christ.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today through the mighty strength of the Lord of creation.

AMEN