Lent For The First Time Again | Lent | 22.02.2026 | Matthew 4:1–11 | David H. Brooks |

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. 3And the tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” 4But he answered, “It is written,

“‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

5Then the devil took him to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple 6and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written,

“‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and “‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’”

7Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. 9And he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10Then Jesus said to him, “Be gone, Satan! For it is written,

“‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.’”

11Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and were ministering to him.

Lent For The First Time Again

I remember being puzzled the first time my family as freshly minted Lutherans tried our hand at the spiritual habits and traditions the congregation encouraged us to adopt.

December came first, and my parents sat my sister and me at the dining table, a freshly made green wreath studded with four candles carefully centered under the chandelier.

“Is it Jesus’ birthday already?” my younger sister asked.

But we lit the first candle, read the lessons from the Advent devotional, and tried our hand at praying. I remember a peculiar combination of awkwardness and excitement, for we were doing something odd that, in my 11-year-old mind, God was pleased that we did. We stuck it out, and celebrated Jesus’ birthday in the proper way four weeks later.

Then came Lent, and again, there was a tradition, a habit to be learned. “You give up something for Lent,” as if that was all the explanation needed. I remember hearing the adults each Sunday at the Divine Service talking about chocolate, or sweets, or alcohol, but I was not sure what a kid should do during Lent, so I discussed it with my school friends. I remember that same awkwardness, but not so much a sense of God’s presence. None of us boys really understood the point, but we finally drilled down to

“You should do without something you really want,” and, “You should give up something that makes you happy.”

Unluckily for this sermon, no third piece of wisdom emerged that day from under the willows at the back of the schoolyard.

In this instance, my pastor was no help, for he, misunderstanding my concern, simply said that you don’t have to do anything—we are Lutherans! Okay…so why all the talk about chocolate?

Why indeed? Why all this talk about Lent?

In this story of wilderness temptation, St. Matthew wants us to see and hear in the life of Christ what St. Paul is trying to explain in the reading we heard from Romans: Christ has come as the new Adam. Jesus is in the world—yes, as the Son of God, but also as the Son of Man. Therefore, the trajectory of his ministry, of his life, is to walk the path that Israel was meant to walk, to walk the road every human being (including us) must walk, but rather than turn away from the Father, to embrace the works of the Father, come what may—and what is coming is victory.

Here, in this story, we see Jesus as he is confronted by the Evil One, that old serpent who overcame our first parents, and he is victorious.

Tempted to express pride, to claim his unique status, to not go without—Jesus embraces humbleness, affirms his shared, common status (everyone gets hungry), and accepts what he lacks because of what he does have—the mighty Word of God.

Tempted to put God to the test, to demand a sign, to show that he doubts God’s good intentions to him—Jesus demonstrates his confidence in God, his contentment with God and his commitment to God.

Tempted to embrace power, to have the devotion of the peoples of the earth through might, to, as one might say, “make a deal with the devil” for “the greater good,”—Jesus says no.

Jesus wins.

And from this victory, Jesus goes to those who need him—who need the salvation he brings, the healing he provides, the forgiveness and reconciliation he bears. The gifts he possesses are made available to you, to me, to us in his victory on the cross. It is as St. Paul declares: If, because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.

And now, this gift is yours.

So, maybe this Lent is a moment for all of us to be newbies, to try something unfamiliar, but certainly rooted in God the Father’s pleasure with us. Lent is our chance to reflect on our baptism, how we have been buried into Jesus’ death and have received the gift of his victory. Lent began as a time of preparation for men and women preparing for baptism, and I deeply doubt that the Church meant for baptismal candidates to simply try to “keep it together” for a few weeks, and then afterwards go back to whatever they were doing. Lent is a season bent on fostering and growing in each of us patterns of life that reflect our Lord’s claim on us and gift to us. Lent is the time for practice! We fast that we might remember that it is not about our success and status, but about the Word’s success and stature in us.  We are generous so that we can both show confidence in God’s generosity and experience that generosity in our lives. We serve others so that we can learn our limits and be able to say no—especially to ourselves.

So practice the disciplines of Lent—not for a few weeks, but for life, for living. Remember that Jesus has won. Remember that his victory is yours. Remember your baptism. Practice and remember, and may you always know God’s pleasure in you. Amen.

© Pr. David H. Brooks
Raleigh, NC USA
Pr.Dave.Brooks@zoho.com