Testing in the Wilderness

As we enter the season of Lent, our liturgical journey takes us from the mountaintop of last Sunday’s Transfiguration directly into the stark wilderness where Jesus faces testing. In Luke’s account, which serves as the Gospel reading appointed for this Sunday [Luke 4:1-13, RCL, Year C], we read that Jesus, “full of the Holy Spirit,” is led by that same Spirit into the wilderness for forty days. What unfolds there is often framed as a battle between good and evil—Jesus versus the devil, each wielding scripture. Jesus answers with words from Deuteronomy [8:3]; the tempter counters with a passage from Psalm 91.

To me, what’s interesting isn’t just that both figures quote Scripture, but that their interpretations—and the purposes behind them—are radically different. The story reveals something more nuanced than a simple clash between opposing forces. What if these wilderness tests aren’t merely obstacles to overcome but divinely orchestrated moments of revelation? What if the sovereignty of God extends even to the testing itself?

As we journey through our own Lenten wilderness, perhaps there’s wisdom to be found in reconsidering who these characters are and what this encounter might reveal about God’s ways in the world.

Rethinking the Characters

Before we can fully appreciate this wilderness encounter, we must look more carefully at its key figures. Who exactly is this “Son of God” being tested, and who is doing the testing?

When Jesus is identified as the “Son of God” at his baptism by John, the title marks him as Messiah, the Anointed One. Yet in Luke’s genealogy [Luke 3:23-38], another figure—Adam—is also called “son of God” [3:38]. Adam is not a transcendent, quasi-divine figure but the first human, into whom God breathed life. And so, perhaps Jesus’ identity is more complex than tradition generally acknowledges: he stands both as Messiah and as the true human who properly embodies what Adam was meant to be.

And what about the tester? In Greek, he is the diabolos, which we translate as “devil.” Traditional theology positions him as God’s opponent, the embodiment of evil. Yet there is an older, more nuanced tradition to consider. If behind the diabolos stands the Hebrew concept of satan, we might see him not as God’s enemy but as suggested by a colleague, Dr. Richard W. Swanson (Augustana University), something like the Cosmic Building Inspector we encounter in the book of Job—a figure who tests the durability of God’s creation, operating within divine parameters rather than against them.

Most telling is how Luke’s passage begins. Jesus is led by the Spirit “in the wilderness" to be tested. The initiative belongs to God’s Spirit, not to the tester. The wilderness experience unfolds not as Satan’s interruption of God’s plan but rather, as part of that very plan. God’s sovereignty frames the entire encounter.

The Nature of the Tests

The three tests Jesus faces reveal not just isolated challenges but fundamental questions about what it means to be both truly human and truly Messiah.

In the first test, famished after forty days of fasting, Jesus is urged: “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread” [4:3]. The issue isn’t simply about food—it’s about how power is to be used. Will Jesus use divine capability for personal comfort and immediate need? His response, “One does not live by bread alone” [4:4] affirms that true humanity involves self-limitation and dependence on God rather than self-reliance.

The second test offers Jesus authority over all the kingdoms of the world in exchange for worshiping the tester. This strikes at the heart of messianic expectation. Many hoped for a political Messiah who would overthrow Rome through power and might. Jesus’ refusal—“Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him” [4:8]—rejects the very notion that God’s reign comes through domination and control. The true Messiah embodies a different kind of authority altogether.

The final test invites Jesus to throw himself from the temple heights, citing Psalm 91’s promise of divine protection. This is an invitation to invulnerability, to be above natural law and human limitation. In refusing, Jesus embraces the vulnerable path that will eventually lead to the cross. A Messiah who cannot suffer cannot save.

In each response, Jesus isn’t merely quoting Scripture against an enemy. He’s articulating a particular understanding of God’s character and purposes—one that centers on faithful obedience rather than self-determination, mercy rather than power, vulnerability rather than invulnerability.

The Sovereignty of God

What emerges from this wilderness encounter is a penetrating revelation of God’s sovereignty. The tester, so often portrayed as God’s opponent, appears here as an unwitting participant in God’s larger purposes. Like the satan in Job, he operates within boundaries established by divine wisdom.

This doesn’t diminish the reality of the testing—Jesus genuinely struggles with these alternatives to his mission. But it reframes our understanding of wilderness experiences. Even moments of profound testing unfold within God’s sovereign care, not outside it.

When both Jesus and the devil quote Scripture, we’re reminded that knowing sacred texts isn’t enough. What matters is reading them rightly, within the proper framework of God’s character and purposes. Jesus’ responses reveal not just his knowledge of Deuteronomy but his alignment with the divine narrative of deliverance and faithful obedience.

The Spirit that led Jesus into the wilderness also empowers him through it. The same voice that declared him “beloved Son” at the Jordan sustains him when that identity is questioned with each “If you are the Son of God.” What appears as abandonment to testing is revealed as divine preparation for ministry.

Our Lenten Wilderness

As we journey through Lent, this wilderness story speaks directly to our own experience. We too enter wilderness spaces—times of testing, questioning, and struggle. The conventional wisdom often frames these moments as battles between our better angels and inner demons, tests we must pass using our own spiritual fortitude.

What if, instead, we recognized the sovereignty of God even in our testing? What if our wilderness experiences, painful though they may be, unfold within divine purposes rather than against them?

This doesn’t, of course, mean that God causes suffering or temptation. But it does suggest that even our darkest moments may serve as revelatory spaces where true identity is clarified and divine purposes advanced. Just as Jesus emerged from the wilderness “filled with the power of the Spirit” [4:14], our own testing grounds may become unexpected places of formation.

The transfiguration command to “listen to him” [Luke 9:35b] takes on added significance in light of Jesus’ wilderness responses. Jesus teaches us how to navigate our invariable testings while remaining faithful to our true identity and calling—not through displays of power, but through vulnerable trust in God’s sovereignty.

Like Jesus, we face the temptation to grasp at self-sufficiency, power, and invulnerability. And like Jesus, we’re invited to choose a different path—one that trusts God’s story over our own, God’s timing over immediate gratification, God’s strength made perfect in weakness.

Where is God’s Spirit leading you in this Lenten season? What are the false securities you are tempted to grasp? And what if even the wilderness—where everything feels uncertain—is part of God’s faithful work in your life?

As we continue our Lenten journey, may we enter our own wilderness spaces with this awareness: even here, God’s sovereignty remains. Even here, we are not abandoned but led by the Spirit. Even here, the voice that names us “beloved” continues to speak.