Lent is not comfortable

Gen. 3:1–21; 2 Cor. 6:1–10; Matt. 4:1–11

Lent is not comfortable. I believe you will hear this phrase often from now on. The Church, in her wisdom, gives us today’s readings not to inspire us, but to test us. We do not begin with self-improvement, but with truth. And the truth is this: when temptation comes, do we cling to the Word of God?

If we answer honestly—not piously, not theoretically, but honestly—the answer is no. When temptation comes, do we cling to the Word? Or do we strategize? Do we calculate? Do we manage the situation ourselves? Do we try to overcome sin on our own? Do we look for clever solutions rather than simple trust? As we heard in the Gospel, Satan did not even spare Christ—who do we think we are? Do we think we can outwit him with our wisdom rather than with the Word of Christ? Wake up and look at reality.

In Genesis 3, we see exactly how it happens. The serpent does not begin with an obvious lie. He begins with a question: “Did God really say…?” The attack is against the Word. And Eve does not immediately reject it. She begins a discussion. She adds something to the Word. She modifies it. And then she looks. The fruit is pleasing. Desirable. Good for gaining wisdom.

And Adam stands there in silence. When temptation comes, do we cling to the Word? Or do we stand there silently? We know what God says about gossip, yet we participate. We know what God says about purity, yet we compromise. We know what God says about forgiveness, yet we hold grudges. We know what God says about trusting Him, yet we panic. God says, “I will provide.” We say, “I must secure myself.” God says, “Vengeance is mine.” We say, “I will handle it.” God says, “Seek first the kingdom.” We say, “Let me take care of my plans first.”

This is not merely weakness. This is distrust. At the center of every sin is the suspicion that God is not enough. That is the Law speaking to us today. And it must speak clearly. We do not fall into sin because we lack information. We fall because we do not trust the Word. We prefer visible solutions to invisible promises. We prefer strategy to surrender. We prefer control to faith. And what happens after Adam and Eve eat? They hide.

This is the second great sign of sin. We do not cling to the Word, and then we run from the One who spoke it. We hide behind excuses. “The woman you gave me…” “The serpent deceived me…” Even today we say, “It was stress.” “It was how I was raised.” “It was the circumstances.” Rarely do we simply say, “I have sinned.”

Lent strips all of this away. It removes our fig leaves. And the consequence of sin is not small. Genesis does not describe a minor inconvenience. It describes curse, pain, thorns, sweat, and death. Creation itself fractures. Relationships fracture. Our own hearts fracture. This is not just ancient history. Look at our world. Look at our churches. Look at our homes. Look inside your own heart.

The wilderness of Matthew 4 is not far from us. Now, see what Christ does.

In Matthew 4, Jesus enters the wilderness not by accident, but led by the Spirit. And there the tempter returns. Notice how similar the strategy is. “Did God really say?” becomes, “If you are the Son of God…” Again, the attack is on identity and trust. Again, the suggestion is to protect oneself from the Father’s will. “Turn these stones into bread.” In other words: solve your hunger yourself. You have the power. Why suffer? Why wait?

How often do we hear the same voice? “Fix it now.” “Take control.” “You deserve relief.” “You deserve recognition.” “You deserve security.” When temptation assaults us, do we cling to the Word? Jesus does. “Man shall not live by bread alone.” “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” “You shall worship the Lord your God and serve Him only.” He does not strategize. He does not creatively debate. He does not improve the devil’s logic. He clings to what is written. And here is the crucial difference: where Adam failed in a garden full of abundance, Christ stands firm in a desert of deprivation.

Why? Because He is not simply showing us how to resist temptation. He is resisting for you, for me. If Matthew 4 were only an example, we would be crushed. Because we cannot replicate forty days of perfect trust. We cannot consistently answer every temptation with unwavering obedience. Brothers, we have already failed this morning before breakfast. But Matthew 4 is more than an example. It is substitution. Christ is the faithful Adam. Where Adam distrusted, Christ trusted. Where Israel grumbled in the wilderness, Christ obeys in the wilderness. Where we cling to strategies, Christ clings perfectly to the Word. And He does so as our representative.

Yet even now, as baptized believers, the struggle continues. St. Paul in 2 Corinthians 6 does not paint the Christian life as easy. He speaks of afflictions, hardships, beatings, imprisonments, sleepless nights, and hunger. The Christian life is not an escape from the wilderness. Often, it is life within it.

But Paul also says, “Now is the favorable time; now is the day of salvation.” Notice: not when you finally master temptation. Not when your Lenten discipline has been perfectly successful. But now. Do you know why? Because salvation does not depend on your consistency. It depends on Christ’s.

Let me repeat what we have done: we have not clung to the Word as we should. We have trusted ourselves more than we have trusted God. We have sought control more than obedience. We have hidden instead of confessing. And if our hope rests in our spiritual performance this Lent, we will either become proud or despairing.

But now, let me tell you what Christ has done for you, your Savior. The same Christ who resisted Satan in the wilderness faced another battlefield: the cross. In Genesis, humanity stretched out its hand to take forbidden fruit from a tree. At Calvary, Christ stretched out His hands on a tree to bear our sins. The thorns of Genesis pierce His brow. The sweat of toil becomes His agony. The death promised in Eden falls upon Him. He bears all the consequences of our failure to believe.

And then He rises. That changes everything. Because through the Sacraments, this victory is not distant—it has already been delivered. In Holy Baptism, you were united to this obedient Christ. His righteousness covers your disobedience. His trust answers your distrust. His victory over temptation replaces your collapse. When you fall—and you do—you do not return to fig leaves. You return to the fountain.

In Holy Absolution, when you confess, “I have not clung to Your Word,” Christ does not say, “Try harder.” He says, “I forgive you.” That Word is stronger than the serpent’s question. And in the Holy Supper, the One who refused to turn stones into bread now gives you the true bread—His Body—and the true drink—His Blood—not as a reward for victory, but as strength for the weak. Notice the reversal: in Eden, humanity took and ate in rebellion. At the altar, we receive and eat in faith.

So what is Lent? It is not a season for spiritual self-improvement projects. It is a season for honest confession and deeper reliance. When temptation comes this week—and it will—the question will again stand before you: do you cling to the Word? Sometimes, by God’s grace, you will. Often, you will not. But your salvation does not depend on the percentage of your success. It depends on the perfection of Christ. And because He has won, you are not abandoned in your weakness.

In Adam we hid. In Christ we have been sought. In Adam we grasped. In Christ we receive. In Adam we fell. In Christ we stand. Dear brothers and sisters, Lent lowers us so that Christ may be our height. The Law reveals how often we trust ourselves. The Gospel proclaims the One who trusted perfectly in our place.

Cling to Him. Even when your grip feels weak, His grip on you is not. Amen.