Temptation in the Desert

The air is clear in the desert. They say the stars are spectacular when seen from the desert, with not even humidity to cloud the vision.

When I hear of Jesus being tempted in the desert, I wonder. The temptations in the desert seem unusually clear. We're tempted all the time, but we can't always tell that it's the voice of evil. The disguise of evil is too good for us to recognize it, or there's some confusion, some ambiguity in the offer. We can't always see the choice so clearly: taken to its logical conclusion, stripped of all pretense and decoration.

As others have noted, the first temptation is nearly a reversal of Eden. In Eden: in an overflowing paradise, take one more thing for yourself: a promise of being like God. In the desert: in a wasteland and very hungry, take some simple bread, even one thing for yourself -- by using miraculous powers for your own benefit, not suffering as simply man. And so in Eden a temptation to claim God's power for personal benefit was accepted by people. And in the desert, a temptation to assert divine power for personal benefit was rejected by the Lord. And does the tempter have a sense of irony? The temptation to be like God seems intended to dethrone God, and to take away the value of being "like God" for both God and for us wannabes. (I don't see any signs that there was real interest learning to discern good from evil.)

The other temptations in the desert involved status, pride, power, riches, recognition, safety, and escape from cruel and undeserved hardship. Those temptations have taken down many of us. They are often the focus of our prayers. We're eager to think that any path toward them comes from God. And Jesus did receive those same blessings from God. From God, not from the tempter. In God's way, in God's time. If he had gotten any of that in the tempter's way, they would have been worthless. Would we really have honored Jesus if the story ended there: "And Jesus bowed down, and received all honor and dominion." And everything Jesus received would have remained under the tempter's ultimate control since Jesus bowed to him. The tempter promises gifts to his subjects; nothing would actually leave his domain.

If the tempter does eavesdrop on our prayers, it is no reason to stop praying for God's honest blessings. But it may be time to ask for what we once tried to claim: real knowledge to discern good and evil. May God grant us clarity to see, and compassion on each other as we struggle to see.

Why God created

For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:31-32)

I've written before about why God created, hoping to move the conversation beyond the usual defenses that God is not needy. (Of course not. Agreed. The conversation doesn't have to end there.)

Imagine there's no universe, and nothing exists but God alone. What good is it to be omnipotent if there's nothing to do? What good is it to be omniscient when the only thing to know is yourself, or omnipresent if there's nowhere to go? It's also not possible to appreciate the vastness of ocean, or the night sky, unless you're small in comparison.

And I have trouble imagining that there could be any variety without limits. That is: if there's one kind of flower, it isn't another kind; if it's growing here, it's not growing there. So variety comes from being specific, and in that sense limited.


A being of pure spirit cannot taste or feel or touch. So much of the glory of this world is sensual, it helps to be physical to fully know and love it. And then there is companionship, and fellowship, which is enriched by the company of others. At times I think it's possible that God created the world so that he could become human.

This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:32)

And if God did create the world so that he could become human, then I've vastly underestimated how blessed it is to be human.

Once we qualify the scope of "omnipotence", is it meaningful?

I've often heard advice not to engage in all-or-none thinking. But some words seem to exist for the sole purpose of saying, "this is about all." One such word is "omnipotence," used to speak of God being all-powerful, or able to do anything. I think most people would accept "able to do anything that isn't inherently impossible" as a reasonable understanding, rather than a backdoor or escape route.

Is it possible to give billions of people the "image of God" -- including ability to shape our own surroundings and paths -- and have God remain in control of everything? In a discussion on omnipotence, either our mastery over our environment is an illusion -- we are simply God's proxies -- or God has granted us our own domain where we are agents in some real sense.

There are many kinds of evil in this world caused by people: caused by hatred, malice, greed, lust, unfaithfulness, indifference, arrogance, and a whole series of problems that need no introduction to those who have lived enough years. If God is good and can do all things, why not prevent people from harming each other by a use of his power? Typically, Christians view this as God choosing to limit the extent of his control -- a choice that was inherent in the act of creating sentient beings -- in which he gives us an area where we are in charge, for good or ill.

But once we think of God as holding himself back, once we think of billions of agents who are not God's proxies -- is the word "omnipotent" still applicable? A crude understanding of "omnipotent" is no longer accurate; for accuracy, it has to be qualified. And if it is qualified, it is no longer simply "all". Without 'all', whatever is left may not be 'none' but it also isn't 'all'.

Theologians can discuss the intricacies of God's power and speak of the subtleties of "omnipotence". But once there are subtleties involved, is the popular meaning void?

The art of apologizing

Normally I try to share anything I may have learned or discovered. Today I do not think I should do any more than say: if you want to learn the art of apologizing, this is the best article I have found:

The delicate art of apologizing without making it worse

There's religion, then there's religion

Some people use religion like a pot-head uses incense: it's about covering up the smell.

I recently had a relative of mine -- one who is still struggling with addiction -- suddenly become religious (apparently ... for a couple of weeks). That is to say, he developed some of the outward trappings of religion: he read the Bible a lot, and prayed a lot, and talked a lot about how much he was reading the Bible and praying. This is a person who had not shown much interest in religion over the years. And I still didn't see him showing much interest in religion, I just saw him spending a lot of time talking about how much he was reading the Bible and praying.

It's like the crowd we used to run with as teenagers: the stronger the smell of incense, the more I could be sure there wasn't anything wholesome going on. I think a lot of religion-haters have developed the same reaction to "religion" that I have to incense: in my experience it has been used as a cover-up, and so my first thought is that it's only there to hide the smell.

Reading the Bible and praying -- it's something that the religious people do, too. But thinking that's the whole of it ... It's like someone whose first experience with art was as a kindergartener with an 8-pack of jumbo crayons and a book of color-by-number line drawings. If that person, as an adult, still only had the 8-pack of crayons, we'd wonder about how much he was actually into art. Or if someone claimed hatred of art because it was all color-by-number, we might encourage her to get out more and see some of the more mature work of people who had kept with the discipline past elementary school. And yet even the mature artists' work might still use some of the same colors and shapes, and may have begun in the same kindergarten.

Sure, religion can in fact help hide the smell -- but mature religion doesn't stop there. Mature religion also goes to the cause of the stink. Mature religion does pray -- and seek the will of God -- and seek to become an instrument of his peace in this world. Mature religion does read the Bible -- and the words sink in, and begin to create in us a clean heart. The words take on flesh in us -- not as we talk about having read them, but as we begin to be the one who stops for the stranger, and knows the sorrows of our friends. True religion becomes less like my experience of incense, and more like a breath of fresh air.

On being like God: Knowing each others' sorrows

And the LORD said, "I have surely seen the affliction of my people in Egypt, and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows" (Exodus 3:7)

 A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3)

Jesus wept. (John 11:35)

Those who walk in the footsteps of God are oddly vulnerable. I don't mean "vulnerable to the usual attacks from enemies of God" in a way that calls us to put on our armor. I mean that in moments of trust we take off the armor. There is a fellowship in shared wounds. Martha may have said "I know my brother will rise at the last day", and we may say it too. Jesus did not dispute it; yet Jesus wept. When we hide our sorrows, we lose the fellowship of others who share them -- and they lose the blessing of fellowship too.

We are vulnerable to the wounds of others, wounds of compassion or empathy. We listen. We know each others' troubles. We are all acquainted with grief.

When Jesus proved himself to Thomas, he showed his scars -- which was what Thomas had asked, and had needed. There is a credibility in old wounds. Would Thomas have accepted the Risen Lord without the scars?

Blessing and Rest

There was a man all alone, with neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil ... (Ecclesiastes 4:8)

I am deeply in need of a Sabbath rest. I need more than a day. There is wisdom -- and blessing -- in the cycle of rest in the Old Testament: rest on the seventh day, rest in the seventh month, more rest in the seventh year, and after the seventh set of seven years, a jubilee. The land rests, the people rest, debts are forgiven, and there is an end to toil. There were special prescribed celebrations each year where the people did not work, much like our national holidays, or something like our vacations with the annual pilgrimage feasts and celebrations.

A pause from work is not much of a blessing if it is done for the sake of preparing to work again. The best rest is not taken for the sake of refreshing our work; instead, the work is done for the sake of securing our rest. A pause from work is only restful if it is satisfying: if it is savored, if there is some beauty admired or fellowship shared or celebration, if we have enjoyed a moment of blessing. Without that, our toil seems meaningless to us.