Image: Stanley Spencer, ‘Consider the lilies’, Christ in the wilderness, 1939.
‘Self-deprecating dignity’
Andrew Collis
Lent 1, Year C
Psalm 91; Romans 10:8b-13; Luke 4:1-13
Environmental activist Julia Butterfly-Hill argues that virtuous political action is meaningless unless those who love the world and its creatures live in truly sustainable and peaceable ways – cooperating rather than competing, sharing resources and ideas, and caring for one another in community.
She speaks of an inner strength, a personal power that grows when shared. This power, she says, is both self-deprecating and dignified.
“People will laugh at you,” Butterfly-Hill warns. “I tell student activists to expect it. Challenging the mainstream – economic exploitation and environmental degradation – will invite ridicule. The best defence is knowing yourself and learning to laugh at yourself before others do. I’ve spent weeks living in a tree,” she chuckles. “Fine. Now, let’s talk about the issues!”
Jesus did not live in a tree, but before his public ministry began, he spent 40 days in the wilderness. He had to confront choices, grapple with opposing forces and prepare for inevitable opposition. His time of testing was a soul-searching struggle.
Similarly, Israel, God’s Child, spent 40 years in the wilderness preparing for nationhood – tested, strengthened but often found wanting. Jesus relived this history, facing the same trials but proving victorious.
Luke’s account of Jesus’ temptation does not depict an easy or automatic victory. The struggle is real, the choices complex. Even scripture itself must be interpreted – applied with wisdom in the right time and place. God’s Word is an event … And the revelation of divine love, the event that truly heals, takes place in a fully human life, one that faces the same subtle temptations to compromise that we all do.
As Lent begins, we are invited to draw near to this story, to learn from it.
Jesus faces three temptations, all revolving around a single question: What kind of Messiah will he be?
Will he be a self-satisfied sovereign? An adored overlord? A sensational wonderworker? How will his mission of healing and helping be carried out?
The first temptation is practical. Jesus is hungry after fasting. Why not use his divine power to turn stones into bread? What’s wrong with a little self-interest? What’s wrong with helping yourself before helping others?
Jesus’ response – “We don’t live on bread alone” (Deuteronomy 8:3) – is enigmatic but clear in intent. His power will be used in service of others.
I recall a church conference speaker in India who put it simply: “I prosper when we all prosper.”
The second temptation is about authority. The devil offers him power over all the kingdoms of the world. The issue is one of discernment. Lording it over others or conflict with entrenched forces? Domination or sacrificial love?
To say “Jesus is Lord” is a subversive confession. It means Caesar is not. It means might is not right. Jesus is Lord because he serves – because God is lordship shared. Godly authority is revealed in self-deprecating dignity – the power of one who serves joyfully, with humility open to love and grace.
The final temptation takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the Temple. If he throws himself down, the angels will surely save him – proving his divine identity in a spectacular fashion. This would be the perfect way to launch his messianic mission. But Jesus refuses.
True faith does not test God. Instead, he chooses the harder path – one that will lead to rejection, not to instant glory.
Emerging from the wilderness, Jesus has set the true direction of his mission. As God’s Child, he will not take shortcuts. He will not avoid the struggles of ordinary human life. His salvation will not be a miracle performed from above, but a transformation worked from within – entering into the world’s pain and brokenness to heal it from the inside.
This inner transformation is visible wherever self-deprecating dignity is found. Or, as another measure of true success, in the courage to become children of God.
May our Lenten disciplines shape in us that humility, dignity and courage. Amen.