The story of Jesus's temptation has much more to offer than merely giving us a "how-to" guide on kicking Satan to the curb.
The account of Jesus being tempted by the devil in the desert is one of the most famous passages of Scripture ever recorded, so much so that it has permeated into other forms of media, religious or otherwise. Portrayals of Christ's wasteland trial have been featured in a variety of paintings, plays, poetry, and films. More often than not, though, the story is conveyed through a predominantly "psychological" lens; that is, the focus is on Jesus's inner turmoil as Satan puts the Son of God through the wringer. This has led to no small amount of confusion regarding this scene. What exactly is happening here? What is this for? What's the point? As is the case with many other places in Scripture, the story is missed or mistaken when it is made about us.
A common interpretation understands Jesus's resistance to temptation as the blueprint for how we should, likewise, resist temptation. Just as he withstood the wiles of the devil by reciting Scripture, we are called to do the same thing. We repel schemes of the evil one with the Word of God on our lips and in our hearts. Accordingly, if you're not able to withstand temptation — if you're constantly losing that battle — it's because you aren't memorizing enough Scripture. The point of the story, then, gets reoriented to be all about you. You can resist; you can fight back, and if you aren't, that's on you! There is, of course, some merit to this since we are told "to stand against" the devil's "schemes" with "the sword of the Spirit" (Eph. 6:11, 17). The words of God are, indeed, our armor when tempted. However, the story of Jesus's temptation has much more to offer than merely giving us a "how-to" guide on kicking Satan to the curb.
This account conveys more than just a model or example for fighting sin and temptation. "The temptation story in Matthew," Balmer H. Kelly asserts, "is emphatically not designed to serve as a model of exemplary Christian fortitude and determination under the stress of personal temptation" (57). In fact, in many ways, the Synoptic accounts of Jesus's temptation serve as an encapsulation of the entire story of redemption God aims to tell through the person of his Son. What this story does is equip us with a sword that is far stronger, sharper, and more reliable than our own ability to memorize the Word — namely, it gives us the Word himself.
To understand the scene of Jesus's temptation, it is crucial to keep the scene of his baptism just before it in view (Matt. 3:13–17), which, in many ways, serves as his ordination into the public arena. The voice of the Father booms to John the Baptizer, along with everyone else in earshot, signifying that the Man in the water was none other than his "beloved Son." Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ of God, the one in whom and through whom all of the Father's plans and promises would be realized. It is not by accident that in every instance where this story is recorded, it is always followed by the story of Jesus's temptation (cf. Mark 1:9–13; Luke 3:21–22; 4:1–13) since the devil's endgame was to call into question Jesus's divine identity. Although other messiahs had risen to prominence and fallen by the wayside before, Jesus posed a new threat to Satan's enterprise. After all, he wasn't just another religious figure with a "messiah complex." He was and is God in the flesh.
It is biblically evident and Christologically imperative that the Christ of God endures a bona fide conflict with the evil one to accomplish the divine promise of the serpent's bruising.
While some have attempted to reimagine Jesus's temptation as a cerebral conflict, the result is an enfeebled Savior whose complex emotions leave him thoroughly tormented by the weight of his divine identity. This wasteland excursion wasn't merely accompanied by a series of hellish nightmares through which Jesus was ushered as a way to interrogate his congruity as God's beloved Son. Reducing his turmoil and temptation to nothing more than an inner crisis undermines why this pericope is recorded in the first place. It is biblically evident and Christologically imperative that the Christ of God endures a bona fide conflict with the evil one to accomplish the divine promise of the serpent's bruising (Gen. 3:15). Consequently, as the tempter advances upon a wearied and famished Lord (Matt. 4:1–3), he does so not only psychologically but personally.
Satan's objective, of course, was to undercut God's program of salvation before it even got off the ground. To that end, he deploys his old bag of tricks, which, as it turns out, exposes that ancient serpent to be little more than a "one-trick pony." Case in point, the first two temptations heaved at Jesus are nothing more than remixes of the original temptation hurled at humanity's parents in the Garden (Gen. 3:1). The malevolent congruity of "Did God actually say . . .?" and "If you are the Son of God . . ." discloses the devil's intent to lure Jesus into demonstrating his identity as the Son of God through ungodly means. "One can see in the three approaches of Satan one basic temptation," argues Lamar Williamson, "to fulfill the mission to which God has called him by means which God has not appointed" (52). "The Devil," Carl Umhau Wolf agrees, "had temptations for Jesus to prove who he was by what he could do" (295).
The first temptation was well-timed. After a grueling "forty days and forty nights" without any food, Satan entices Jesus by appealing to his hunger (Matt. 4:3). Practically speaking, turning some rocks into bread would've been a breeze, especially for the one through whom the worlds were formed (Heb. 1:2). The problem with Satan's offer has less to do with the miracle of transforming stones into food and more to do with the subversion of Jesus's purpose. He was attempting to persuade the Lord to employ his divine prerogative to sidestep his humanity and, therein, undercut the purpose of his incarnation. As both God and Man "without confusion," Jesus of Nazareth was tempted to supplant his Father's will with his own. Satan, the most narcissistic and self-oriented being ever, wanted Jesus to follow his lead and use his power to serve himself.
Jesus, of course, flat-out refuses this suggestion, speaking the words of God back to his tempter. As the true and righteous Man, Jesus had come to "fulfill all righteousness" on behalf of those who never could (Matt. 3:15). He came to live perfectly as humanity's commensurate representative, which is why his answer accords with the divine ideal for mankind. "Man," the Lord retorts, "shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God" (Matt. 4:4; cf. Deut. 8:3). Jesus's unambiguous denial likewise affirms his disinterest in serving himself or looking out for his own needs since he trusts in the Father to do that for him. "The implied distrust," R. C. H. Lenski comments, "the devil wants Jesus to show toward his Father is at once met by the most perfect trust and reliance on the Father" (144). Satan's proposition proves unsuccessful.
The Christ of God only demonstrated his divine power and authority in the service of others.
Although the Lord Jesus would eventually utilize his divine power and authority on other pragmatic occasions — like when he walked on the water or fed the five thousand — he never did so for selfish reasons. The Christ of God only demonstrated his divine power and authority in the service of others. Therefore, if he were to cooperate with the devil's request, Jesus would demonstrate that he isn't the self-sacrificing Messiah he claims to be. In so doing, he would jettison his errand as the epitomization of grace and service (Matt. 20:28). "Jesus was tempted," Wolf remarks, "to use all the shortcuts possible to attain his purpose" (299). In many ways, all three of the devil's taunts cohere with this same impulse to lure the Lord into taking the fast track to fulfill his destiny.
During the second temptation, Satan escorts Jesus to the highest point of the Temple complex, where he attempts to convince the Lord to throw himself down to the ground in a grand display of spiritual showmanship. With who knows how many Jewish worshipers congregating below him, the devil urges Jesus to jump, to show off, and to make a public spectacle of his identity (Matt. 4:5–6). He wants him to flaunt his authority by drawing attention to himself, and he even uses Scripture to make his case (cf. Ps. 91:11–12). But once again, Jesus emphatically denies his tempter's suggestion, reminding him that the Son of God is not an exhibitionist. Whereas Satan wants him to showcase his power, authority, and identity through an extravaganza of heavenly competency, Jesus insists that his identity as the Son of God is epitomized by humility.
There is no need, therefore, for any performance of daring zeal. The Son of God did not come to Earth to "prove" the trustworthiness of the Word; he came to embody the Word for us by speaking and personifying the Father's words of forgiveness, love, and self-sacrifice. This is when the devil ushers Jesus up to the top of a "very high mountain," where he proceeds to parade "all the kingdoms of the world" in front of him (Matt. 4:8–9). A parallel passage tells us that this happened "in a moment of time" (Luke 4:5). It is best, though, to withhold speculation on how this transpired or what it looked like. Nevertheless, as the devil brandishes the keys to every earthly empire, he trafficks cosmic supremacy for one act of fealty. By bowing and paying homage to his tempter, he could put the crown on his own head and promote himself as the Lord of all things. Satan wants Jesus to chase after his own glory, notably by forgoing all the ensuing suffering, pain, ridicule, and agony of the cross.
As we face a barrage of daily temptations, the gospel gives us relief and imbues us with confidence, not by giving an example to follow but by actually giving us Christ's victory.
But rather than consent to a shortcut to self-aggrandizement, Jesus conclusively demurs any pursuit of his self-glorification (John 8:50; 12:27–28; 17:4). His purpose was specifically and especially contoured to bringing glory to his Father by living righteously and faithfully, even at the expense of his own life. Even under the pressure of bypassing his ignominious fate, Jesus withstood the allure of egocentric pomp and circumstance by reaffirming his ultimate objective to carry out the will of his Father "to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Phil. 2:5–11). "Be gone, Satan!" Jesus decisively and succinctly replies (Matt. 4:10), signaling his immediate and eventual victory over his adversary's devices. "Satan is ordered to begone," Lenski declares, "because he has been utterly vanquished" (157). The devil's attempt at sabotaging God's plan of salvation is foiled by Jesus's unspoiled endurance of temptation.
All of Satan's cunning and craftiness is rendered impotent by the Christ of God. In so doing, he convincingly fulfills all righteousness for those who are ensnared by sin and death. Thus begins, writes Jaroslav Pelikan, God's "repair of the damage" inflicted upon the cosmos by humanity's parents "by countering the temptation to live by bread with the assertion that not bread, but the speaking of God, is what makes a man alive" (253). In this, we are shown the incongruity of grace, realized on the cross but previewed in the desert, which sees the Lord exalted even as he endures the disgrace of the tempter's overtures. "Jesus," writes Lamar Williamson, "was never more the exalted Son of God than when, in response to all the enticements of hell to make him exalt himself, he remained obedient and submissive to the will of God. It is this paradoxically exalted abasement that makes it possible for Jesus to be the second Adam, in whom the primordial yielding to temptation is reversed and the pattern of true humanity restored" (53).
Jesus's temptation and triumph in the wilderness is, therefore, meant to atone for the failure of Adam in the Garden. Whereas the first Adam collapsed under the strain of the serpent's taunts, the "last Adam" (1 Cor. 15:45) turns them all away, succeeding in the desert where the first failed in paradise. In every point where Adam was defeated, Jesus prevails (Rom. 5:18–19).
Consequently, by refusing to entertain the tempter's terms, Jesus demonstrates that he is the one by whom and through whom sinners are made alive (1 Cor. 15:21–22), evincing the divine fact of his identity as the Son of God. Rather than giving us a "how-to" guide on how to resist temptation, Jesus was in the wilderness to make a way for us to be "made righteous" (Rom. 5:19; Matt. 3:15). He was led into the wilderness to win the war we had already lost. He endured the devil's taunts and temptations so that God could be glorified and sinners could be delivered.
As we face a barrage of daily temptations, the gospel gives us relief and imbues us with confidence, not by giving an example to follow but by actually giving us Christ's victory. His success is imputed to us. Our triumph in temptation is not just about knowing some words or having some verses memorized. It is about the Spirit of God instilling in us the faith to trust in the triumph of the Christ of God on our behalf. The good news, therefore, announces that every encounter with the tempter has already been fought and won by the true and better Adam, who gives his victory to sinners by grace alone.
