Journey Through the Wilderness: God’s Redeeming Grace

What does Lent mean to you? Is it simply a time to make a sacrifice that provides a minor inconvenience? Give up chocolate or some other treat? For some, Lent may be a time to take back up one of those New Year’s resolutions that has already fallen by the wayside. But to be honest, I would often spend too much time thinking about what I was giving up rather than focusing on why I was giving it up.

A couple of times in past years I gave up meat for Lent. Truth be told, that was more effective than giving up a treat like chocolate. Giving up meat required more of me. I did tend to be more reflective on my choice of deprivation. Now, that has been my experience. As it is often said: “Your mileage may vary.” During my Ash Wednesday sermon this week I suggested giving up certain types of behaviors. Harmful behavior. Behaviors that do not reflect the values of Christ.

This week we have looked at the texts for the First Sunday of Lent: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7, Psalm 32, Romans 5:12-19, and Matthew 4:1-11. These lessons provide the core of the sweeping narrative arc that stretches from the Bible’s first page to the last—a story of creation, fall, redemption, and restoration. This is particularly evident when we place specific passages side-by-side, especially during seasons like Lent, when believers are invited to reflect on the human condition and the divine response.

The story begins not in failure, but in perfection. In Genesis 2, we see a God of abundance. He plants a garden full of “trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food.” He places humanity in this paradise with a specific purpose. Genesis 2:15 tells us that God put the human in the garden “to serve it and to guard it.” This was a vocation of dignity; humanity was creation’s caretaker, a responsibility we often forget. We tend to exploit creation, not care for it.

The gift of the garden came one simple boundary. God commands, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die” (2:16-17). This was not meant to be a cruel, restrictive boundary, but a boundary of trust. It was the one place where Adam and Eve could exercise their free will to choose God. It was the space where obedience would become love in action.

Enter the serpent. Genesis 3 introduces us to a creature described as “crafty”. He doesn’t start with a blatant lie; he starts with a question designed to sow doubt: “Did God really say...?” He challenges the trust that Adam and Eve had for their Creator. Furthermore, he twists God’s word from a provision of freedom (“You are free to eat from any tree”) into a restriction of tyranny (“You must not eat from any tree”). When the woman saw that the fruit was “good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom,” she took it and ate, and gave some to her husband.

The result was immediate. Their “eyes were opened,” but instead of the enlightenment the serpent promised, they were flooded with shame. They hid from God and blamed each other. The harmony of the garden was shattered.

Let’s jump to the Gospel of Matthew. Immediately after Jesus is baptized and declared God’s beloved Son, the Spirit leads him into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1). Why is this significant? Because Matthew wants us to see Jesus as the embodiment of Israel, and as the Second Adam.

Notice the parallels to Genesis. The tempter returns. He attacks the same points: the lust of the flesh (“turn these stones to bread”), the pride of life (“throw yourself down”), and the lust for power (“I will give you all the kingdoms”). But where the first Adam said, “I want more,” and grasped at equality with God, the Second Adam trusted the Father’s word. Jesus wields the sword of the Spirit, quoting Deuteronomy: “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). He succeeds where Adam failed, and in doing so, he begins the work of reversing the curse.

The journey from Genesis to Matthew is the journey of humanity. It is our story. In Genesis, we see our reflection: we are the ones who doubt God’s goodness, cross the boundary, and then hide in shame. We try to cover ourselves, but our fig leaves are never enough. In Psalm 32, we learn the way back: we must stop hiding and start confessing, trusting that God’s covering is better than our own. And in the wilderness, we see our Champion. Where Adam was defeated, Jesus is victorious. He endured the temptations we face and emerged sinless, so that he could become the righteous representative Paul describes in Romans.

Because of the First Adam, we are born in sin, prone to wander, and subject to death. But because of the Second Adam, we are offered grace, invited to confess, and promised eternal life. The question posed to us this Lent is simple: Are you still hiding in the garden, or will you follow Jesus into the wilderness and trust him for the victory?

Let us pray...

Gracious and merciful God, we gather at the threshold of this holy season, mindful of our own frailty and your unfailing faithfulness. As you led your Son into the wilderness to be tested, lead us now into a season of honest examination. Strip from us the pretense that conceals our need. Open our eyes, as you opened the eyes of our first parents, not to shame us, but to show us that we are in need of your redeeming love. We are grateful that in Christ you have not left us to ourselves. As we worship together, grant us hearts that are willing to hear, voices that are eager to praise, and spirits that are open to transformation. Through Christ, our Lord and Savior, we pray. Amen.