First Sunday in Lent: The Paradox of Lent

As we begin this First Sunday of Lent, I want to draw your attention to something that might surprise you. Listen carefully to what the Gospel has to say in Matthew chapter 4, verse 1.

 

 

Did you catch that? Jesus wasn't accidentally lost in the wilderness. He wasn't wandering aimlessly when temptation found Him. No—the Holy Spirit led Him there. The same Spirit that descended upon Him at His baptism, the same Spirit that affirmed Him as God's beloved Son, deliberately led Him into a place of testing and trial.

This is the paradox we must wrestle with as we enter this Lenten season. We often believe—perhaps without even realizing it—that God's grace should shield us from hardship. We think that if we're truly walking in the Spirit, we'll avoid the wilderness altogether. And when trials do come, we're tempted to believe they signal God's absence, His displeasure, or His abandonment.

 

But here at the very beginning of Jesus's ministry, Scripture teaches us something radically different. The wilderness was not a detour from God's plan—it was part of it. The trial was not evidence of the Spirit's absence—it was evidence of the Spirit's leading.

 

Let's look more closely at what happened in that wilderness. Matthew tells us that Jesus fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward He was hungry. The devil came to Him with three specific temptations, each one designed to make Jesus doubt His identity and His Father's provision.

 

"If thou be the Son of God," the tempter began, "command that these stones be made bread." Here was Jesus, genuinely hungry, genuinely suffering. The temptation was real. The physical need was real. And notice—God didn't remove the hunger. He didn't spare His Son from the discomfort.

 

But here's what we must see: grace wasn't absent in that moment. Grace was sustaining Jesus through it. Each time the devil tempted Him, Jesus responded with Scripture. "It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." Grace gave Him the strength to stand. Grace gave Him the Word to fight with. Grace was there—not removing the trial, but empowering Him through it.

 

The second temptation took Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple. "If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down," the devil said, even quoting Scripture himself. Again, Jesus was sustained by grace to respond: "It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God."

 

Finally, the devil showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, offering them all if Jesus would just bow down and worship him. And Jesus, filled with the Spirit's power, declared: "Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve."

 

Then Matthew tells us something beautiful: "Then the devil leaveth him, and, behold, angels came and ministered unto him." The trial ended, yes—but notice when the angels came. Not before the temptation. Not to prevent the wilderness experience. They came after, to minister to Jesus in His need.

 

This is how grace works in our trials. It doesn't always remove them immediately. But it sustains us through them, gives us what we need to stand, and ministers to us in the aftermath.

 

Now in 2 Corinthians chapter 6., we find the apostle Paul writing to a church that questioned his ministry. They wondered if his many sufferings meant God had abandoned him. So Paul gives them—and us—a remarkable catalog of his experiences.

 

Starting in verse 4, he writes: "But in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings."

 

That's quite a list, isn't it? Afflictions. Necessities. Distresses. Beatings. Imprisonments. Riots. Hard work. Sleepless nights. Hunger. If we measured God's grace by the absence of trials, we'd have to conclude that Paul had very little of it.

 

But listen to what comes next. In verses 8 through 10, Paul describes the paradoxes of grace-filled suffering: "By honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report: as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things."

 

Do you see it? Paul wasn't denying the reality of his suffering. He was sorrowful—truly sorrowful. He was poor—genuinely poor. He was dying—actually facing death. But in the midst of each trial, grace was powerfully present. Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. Poor, yet making many rich. Having nothing, yet possessing all things.

This is the mystery of God's grace in our wilderness seasons. It doesn't eliminate the sorrow, but it gives us joy alongside it. It doesn't remove the poverty, but it makes us rich in ways the world cannot measure. It doesn't spare us from dying, but it gives us life that death cannot touch.

 

Grace was present in every single one of Paul's hardships—not in their absence, but in their midst.

 

This brings us to Paul's urgent appeal at the beginning of chapter 6. In verse 1, he writes: "We then, as workers together with him, beseech you also that ye receive not the grace of God in vain."

 

What does it mean to receive God's grace in vain? In the context of what Paul has been teaching, it means to misunderstand what grace is for. It means to expect grace to remove all our trials rather than sustain us through them. It means to interpret hardship as God's absence rather than an opportunity to experience His presence in deeper ways.

 

When we demand that God's grace manifest itself by removing our wilderness experiences, we're receiving His grace in vain. We're missing the very purpose for which He gives it. Grace isn't primarily given to make our lives comfortable. It's given to make us like Christ—and Christ was led into the wilderness.

 

Paul continues in verse 2: "For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." God hears us in our trials. He helps us in our day of need. But His help doesn't always look like rescue from the trial. Sometimes His help is the strength to endure it, the joy that coexists with sorrow, the riches that accompany poverty.

 

To receive grace rightly, we must trust that God is present in our wilderness, not absent from it. We must believe that the Spirit who led Jesus into temptation is the same Spirit who sustained Him through it. We must accept that grace is most powerfully demonstrated not in the absence of trials, but in our ability to stand firm through them.

 

So what is the truth we must hold onto as we journey through this Lenten season and face our own wilderness experiences?

 

Here it is: God's grace is most powerfully present in our wilderness moments, not in their absence.

 

When you're in the wilderness—when you're facing temptation, when you're experiencing sorrow, when you're walking through affliction—that's not evidence that God has left you. That's not proof that His grace has failed. In fact, it may be the very place where you experience His grace most profoundly.

 

Jesus was never more filled with the Spirit than when He was led into the wilderness. Paul never knew God's sustaining power more deeply than when he was experiencing afflictions, necessities, and distresses. The grace wasn't in avoiding these things. The grace was in the strength to face them, the Word to fight with, the joy that persisted through sorrow, the riches that accompanied poverty.

 

This Lent, as we remember Christ's journey to the cross, let's remember that the path to resurrection always leads through suffering. The grace that raised Jesus from the dead was the same grace that sustained Him through the wilderness, through Gethsemane, through Calvary. And it's the same grace available to us in our trials.

Don't measure God's grace by the absence of hardship in your life. Measure it by His presence with you in the midst of hardship. That's where grace shines brightest.

 

Now, remembering this truth is essential, but we also need a practical way to live it out. So I want to give you a simple Lenten discipline—something concrete you can do when trials come.

 

When you face a trial this Lenten season—and you will face trials—I want you to pause. Stop whatever you're doing. Take a breath. And instead of immediately asking, "Why hasn't God removed this?" I want you to ask a different question: "How is God's grace sustaining me right now?"

 

This is a radical shift in perspective. It assumes that grace is present, and it trains you to look for it. It moves you from demanding deliverance to recognizing sustenance.

 

How is God's grace sustaining you right now? Maybe it's in the Scripture that comes to mind, just as it did for Jesus in the wilderness. Maybe it's in the strength to face one more day, even when you're weary. Maybe it's in the joy that somehow coexists with your sorrow, just as Paul described. Maybe it's in the friend who calls at just the right moment, the angels who minister after the trial.

 

Start looking for grace in the wilderness, not just in deliverance from it. Keep a journal if that helps. Each day this Lent, write down one way you saw God's grace sustaining you—not removing your trials, but empowering you through them.

 

This practice will transform how you experience hardship. You'll begin to see that the wilderness isn't a place of God's absence. It's often the place where His presence becomes most real, most tangible, most powerful.-F.D.