Temptation and Purpose

The sun rose over the dishevelled bearded man sat among the boulders. Its early rays, began to warm the cold night chill from his body, and he gently released the tight grip with which he was holding his cloak around himself.

His alert eyes, scanned the horizon for any signs of movement, and there was a slight relaxing of his shoulders as he concluded that he was still very much alone. This had been his 39th night alone, following his 39th day without food. 40 days now, wandering these hillsides and escarpments, with only his doubts for company. Frankly it was company he could do without. He came to spend time in quiet contemplation, but his doubts were anything but quiet - they intruded on any, and every, waking moment. The doubts, ... and the hunger.

Prayer had seemed easier at the start. He had made real progress in the peace and tranquility of those first couple of weeks, and he had discovered much about himself and his mission. But as the easier decisions fell into place, it seemed that the more difficult ones moved further away, eluding his grasp, seemingly taunting him at a distance, ... becoming 'his doubts'.

And yet it was them that he was out there to address, to battle, to resolve, and he knew in his heart that if he returned or ate before that resolution was complete, he would have failed. And he knew that he couldn't, mustn't fail. Too much, too unbelievably much, depended on it.

But on this chill morning, he wondered, not for the first time in the last few days, what would give in first - the doubts, or his increasingly weakened and unsustained frame. He did not know how long a man could go without food, but he doubted that it could be that much longer. Perhaps a few more days? A week at most? And what then? What if he were to die out here? Would he be replaced? Would somebody else complete his mission? Surely that is not possible! Unless of course he had got it all wrong.

Of course, if he had got it all wrong, it wouldn't matter anyway. He would starve to death for nothing. Almost 6 weeks since his last meal, if only he could stop thinking about food, and concentrate. Even the boulders around him seemed to acquire the shape, texture and colour of small leavened loaves. In his mind's eye he could imagine himself tearing a crusty hunk from one.

One of the small boulders appeared in his hands without him really thinking about it, and he turned it over and brushed one thumb over it's dusty, floury, surface. It was warm to the touch?and he wondered whether that was from the rays of the newly arisen sun, or the oven. If he really was the person he had come out here to find in himself, it could be either. It was simply a matter of his choosing.

But there was that word again: "If ..."

Was it his imagination, or had the boulder become a shade lighter in his hands? He adjusted the position of his fingers, poised them gently in position to break the boulder loaf open and reveal it's yeasty smell and wonderful taste. He tested the pressure on his fingertips slightly, did the surface give a little.?He hesitated, unwilling to apply enough force to confirm, to define - once and for all, whether he held a loaf or a stone. Why did he pause? Just a bit more pressure and he would know.

He could sense his hunger pervading his thoughts. If there was a chance that this could be bread, the hunger wanted him to take it - it wanted to ravenously tear into the boulder loaf, and feast on the wonderful yeasty insides. In one movement he could both sate his hunger and resolve the question that most plagued him.

That question, THE question, persisted. It stepped up its demand to be heard. He could sense it's insidious presence in that all important "If...", and the man's recognition of this seemed to strengthen and encourage its relentless intrusion into his thinking.?The man , his fingers, still in place, hardly moving, closed his eyes. "Am I hesitating because I have not yet finished this fast or because I'm scared that this loaf/boulder won't break, and all of this will be for nothing?" The hunger and the doubt combined forces, attacking his act of will to keep his fingers from breaking below the surface. He lowered his head.

Something was wrong. This was not the way and he knew it. In his spirit he knew that what he sought lay in himself, and that whatever the outcome of his fingers on the surface of what he held - it was not the answer. This was far too momentous to decide simply to serve his physical needs.

"Man shall not live on bread alone" he mumbled. Then, lifting his head and opening his eyes, he spoke more clearly and determinedly.?Spoke out into the wilderness and to the vast witnessing emptyness around him, and to the physical emptiness within himself: "Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God".

The sentence finished audibly, but in his spirit it continued as a command from his spirit to all he had dominion over - every, sinew, every fibre, every thought, and every discomfort. As he concentrated and determined himself with the scripture, he felt his will as a physical presence within him, reclaiming control, and seemingly pushing the unwanted thoughts outward, outside himself.?

In the respite, he hefted the loaf stone in his hand and determined that it had always been and would always remain rock. But it would remain a rock, not because he lacked the power to make it into bread, but because he chose not to make it into bread. Looking at the boulder one last time, he let it fall onto the small cairn by his side. It made a satisfying clack as it landed among its brothers.

Rearranging his cloak, he rose and prayed his thanks, and then he took a pace forward and started walking.

He walked slowly, deep in thought, reflecting back on the days leading up to his arrival to the banks of the Jordan. He had felt so out of step with his fellow man for so long that this solitude had been a blessing at the start. He had always been a humble man, and had been brought up to honour the views of others, and not to think himself better than them. So he felt keenly the tension between the truth that he knew in his heart and respect for the contrary beliefs of those around him.

For some reason he knew God in a way that was unthinkable, even shocking, to everyone around him. And he loved God with a passion that others would struggle to understand, he loved God in the same way he had loved his father Joseph, only more so, with an intimacy that would seem scandalous to others. And he knew that God wanted that same relationship with everyone, and he knew, somehow, that he was part of making that happen. But HOW? "I mean REALLY ... HOW???"

For miles, each stride acted to punctuate and articulate a raging argument within him: "There must be a way"; "But there isn't"; "I must be missing something"; "Okay, WHAT?"

It would make it so much simpler if God laid out his path in mile high letters.

Yes, he was (almost) totally sure he had heard God's voice at his baptism, but what did that mean? If he was God's plan for this thing, then would doubts mess it up? And if he wasn't God's plan would his delusions damage God's plan in some way?

His confusion drained him, and his spirit seemed to fall with the downward slope of the path his feet were now blindly following.

If only he could be sure.

He loved God with every fibre of his being, and he was so scared of letting Him down. Not in the same way as everyone else would be scared, he didn't see 'his father' in that way, but even the thought of disappointing him - either way - was an overwhelming grief that brought him to tears.

And that was some trick after 40 days in the desert.

Thinking back, he was not actually sure how he got there, but somehow his steps had led him to the outer courtyard of the temple, which seemed rather appropriate under the circumstances. What better place to resolve this dilemma? He stood and lifted his hands sky wards and listened. But the noise of all that was going on around him seemed to distract him. He needed to get above the hubbub, to a place where he could be sure his thoughts were his own, and his will was his Father's.

He glanced to his left and saw that the entrance to the steps, which was usually closed off, was open. It seemed to him to be a sign, and encouragement that he was supposed to be here and his needs had been thought of in advance. He felt again that 'connection' and his heart swelled with gratitude. He ascended, and soon found himself up on the top of the wall in the South East corner of the Court, high above Gehenna. No-one around him, the bustle left far below, and above him a ceiling of blue. He stood looking out across the valley to the olive groves on the hill beyond.

As he looked at the olive grove he felt a sense of foreboding, a sense of heaviness, perhaps destiny, in his spirit. But how could he be sure it was HIS destiny?

He thought back to the stone loaf. His questions seemed somehow unworthy of God. They seemed to lack faith. He prayed for more faith, but as with so much of his time in this wilderness, the closeness he usually felt to his Father seemed to elude him. Was God somehow disappointed in him? 40 days after his Father had been 'well pleased' had this been lost by the man's seemingly endless questioning of who and what he was? "I need a really big act of faith" he thought, "something to resolve this once and for all." He pondered the scriptures concerning the prophesies about himself, ... or was it someone else? Stop it! STOP IT!

He shook his head, disappointed with himself again. Surely the Messiah would not be so easily swayed. Surely the Messiah would not be sat among boulders, in fact scripture decreed that He would float above them.

The man looked over the parapet, and as he looked at the boulders in the valley far below, the full scripture swam in his mind: ‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’, and a true test of his faith occurred to him. He stood a little closer to the edge of the parapet, and he sensed a degree of fear grow within him - he pushed it down. That Is Not Faith. If I truly am the Son of God, I will not fear.?My fear is unworthy of my faith, my fear is unworthy of my Father.

As the battle of wills grew, the edge of the parapet assumed the mantle of a threshold of faith in his mind. Yes he was scared, but that fear needed to be overcome, it needed to be deliberately subdued. He edged closer, the tension grew, the battle raged. And into this maelstrom quietly floated the words 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test'. He knew where the words came from, they came from Deuteronomy, and they came from FEAR.

He pushed the fear down, and he pushed the words away. But these words seemed somehow different to his previous 'rationalisations'. They were words about faith, not about a lack of faith. They spoke of a deeper level of faith - one that did not need to be tested by grand gestures. One that simply knew without proof.

'Cowardice' spoke another voice within him. Here is an action that will prove once and for all who I really am, that will reveal the truth or the lie in the past 30 years, and I can't handle it!?

Two pieces of scripture hung in the balance of his mind. To respond to one represented faith, certainty, courage, clarity. To respond to the other left questions, doubt, the continuing need for faith. So which really was the more courageous? Or was that question simply another rationalisation.

But the words 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test' felt different somehow. They felt 'true'. His spirit was different when he thought about them. He voiced them quietly, almost tentatively, as though doing so would precipitate something he was not ready for; would turn him away from a key point; would bring disappointment to his Father?

But somehow, speaking them seemed 'right'. He spoke them more determinedly, and as he did so, he was more sure of them. Finally, determinedly, defiantly against the part of him that had stood against these words, he planted his feet right at the edge of the parapet, and shouted them across the valley.

Strange, but there was no echo. No sound returned to him. He wasn't sure if he had expected it to, but it felt a bit of an anti-climax. He really felt alone. His shoulders sagged a little at the thought, but then a small smile played across is lips. If he was alone, did that mean his doubts were no longer keeping him company - now wouldn't that be a thing!

Then he straightened himself, smiled fully across the valley, turned, and retreated back to the steps where He sat down.

He knew who He was. Of course he had always known, but now he really knew - he felt a different sort of knowing, a deeper knowing, he felt truth and it felt different, fundamental, anchored in space and time, a full and total assurance that He has the power to move mountains by simply speaking them into being, ... just ... like ... He ... did ... at ... the ... beginning.

He felt only faith! Real faith. Faith in a way and at a depth he had never felt before. Faith that is indifferentiable from Truth. I am the son of God. I can effect miracles. Proof is superfluous.

So, now, something to drink and eat? But for some reason it didn't feel quite right. Something was missing.

He knew who He was, but He was still not any closer on what He was to do.

Renew the covenant, of course. But how?

His mind reflected back to his thoughts from earlier that morning - about the tension between the truth that He knew in His heart and respect for the contrary beliefs of those around Him. About conversations He had with His parents and His brothers - they knew He was special, they had grown up with the idea that He was the Messiah - but even they tried to impose their own views of what that meant. And as for friends, ... only Lazarus and his sisters had stood by him, against the taunts of the popular kids. They truly trusted in Him, and He loved them for it.

But that left Him with a huge dilemma. If only three people believe Him, how on earth is He supposed to save the World?

The very priesthood that His Father had given responsibility for leading His flock had drawn it astray. In their self-serving care: the elemental had become prosaic; the sacred concealed by the mundane. Laws intended to lift people to engage with the creator of the Universe, had been used to elevate those who held the minds of God's people in a bewildering maze of fear and compliance. The spiritual had become transactional, measured out in precise conformance - each detail distracting people from the relationship it was intended to bless. His mind raced on through the problems that confronted Him.

Stepping over sharp and uneven stones that paved his way, occasionally flicking small rock and sticks to one side, with His feet - if only the obstacles on His spiritual path could be dealt with so easily. Momentarily distracted by that thought, he arrested the sideways swipe of His left foot an instant before it contacted the side of the large snake sunning itself on the path, with a deft flick of His right he skipped Himself forward and out of danger. That had been close!?No Moses Rescue Remedy out here any more, if He had been bitten that could have been His mission ended before it even started.

He thought back to the story of Moses' bronze snake lifted high on a pole, and how anybody who had been bitten merely had to look at the bronze snake to live. He felt a strange sense of connection with that bronze snake - saving God's people from their own shortcomings, high atop its pole so that it could see all of God's people, and they could see it.

So high! What a view, what must they all have looked like from up there? Their cares, and toils, their tents and camp fires, their relationships, their belongings.

'Is that how you see them Father?', He pondered, and as He did so, He felt a great grief fall upon Him, for all the people and their situation. An overwhelming sense of brokenness and loss. A savage yearning to gather them together and bring them back into relationship, and a deep regret that it can never be that easy.

The intensity of the feeling took the man's breath away, and at the edge of His mind's eye He sees yet more people stretching out into further kingdoms, bowed down by great riches and wealth. It is as though He is being lifted higher, seeing everything, and realising for the first time the true magnitude of His task.

It was surely impossible! How many prophets had there been before Him? And who had listened?

But those prophets didn't have a fraction of His power!

Surely, all this power, the ability to move mountains, ... they had to listen now?

If He revealed the true might and majesty and power of who He is, they would rush to His feet, and listen and obey. They would yield up their power and wealth and arrogance to Him, and seek to do what He said, and He could save them all!!! How could they possibly turn to other Gods after that? How could they possibly do anything but the will of Him and His Father? He could rule as His Father meant Him to, loving His people, rescuing them from poor decisions, rebalancing wealth and power. A new beginning for a World who revered Him and His father with endless gratitude.

He could feel their love and gratitude, even worship, for restoring their relationship with God.

He could gather them into a massive tower, adorned with gold and precious gems, that reached up to the Heavens, and protected and nurtured them, and they would love Him for it. They would really love Him. No more 'Lazarus's weird friend'! No more 'the Roman bastard'! No more 'rejected and despised'!

And though in His heart of hearts, He knew that this was not the way that His Father wanted it done, He felt sure that once it was done His Father would see the sense in it all, and love Him too for His brilliant insight.

But He had seen that very same tower before, in His imagination, when His teachers had told Him about the descendants of Noah in the plain of Shinar, and the tower they built to rival the Glory of God.

And He realised where His thoughts had taken Him. He thought of the snake that had initiated this whole train of thought, that had lifted His mind high above the earth, high above His earthly responsibilities, high above His own cares and concerns to the realm of His Father's. And He knew the snake had a name! And even though He could no longer see it, He knew that it was still with Him. He looked back up the path on the hillside, along the way that He had come, back past the thoughts of His tower, back past the thoughts of His people (for that is what they had become in His imagination), back past the thoughts of His world, back past the journey of his mind and His feet that He had just taken, and He dismissed them all with a deliberate act of will, shouting as loud as He could the words 'Away from me, Satan! For it is written: “Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only"'

As he shouted, he felt everything inside him shift. He felt His Father's presence anew, as he remembered it, vanquishing the spirits of doubt and fear that had dwelt in the undertow of the last 40 days. He would say that he felt the ministration of Angels, reassuring him.

As He turned to move along his track, He felt that each step he took was as one with the heavenly host. And all his thoughts were clarity. But not his thoughts. Yes he was thinking them, but the insights they held were fresh, profound, like giftings. Like prophecy. Like thinking alongside His Father. The very scenery and sights around him became metaphor. It echoed phrases in scripture. Phrases that he could see with new clarity related to him and his future. He knew God's plan. And He trusted. Every new thread was an indulgence, a love gift from the Father. Making connections He had never seen. Making His heart soar. The simplest things, a milestone, a rock, a fork in the road, a dwelling, the shape of the landscape took on new meanings.

And He knew, at that very point, He would do the will of His Father, and Worship Him alone, and leave the rest entirely in His hands. But first food.

Raising his eyes, he immediately recognised the willows that surround the pools near Emmaus, and He knew He was able to get fresh water from there, and food from the settlement. Then He would continue his journey out to the Via Mare, and on up to Galilee. He had work to do.