From Garden to Wilderness
Genesis 2:15–17; 3:1–7
Romans 5:12–19
Matthew 4:1–11
The First Sunday of Lent always takes us to two places: a garden and a wilderness.
Lent begins by reminding us where the story started — in a garden. In Genesis, humanity is placed in Eden not as prisoners, but as stewards. “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.” The first human calling was care, communion, and trust. There was abundance. Beauty. Provision.
There was only one boundary. And into that simplicity comes a subtle question:
“Did God really say…?”
Temptation does not begin with obvious rebellion. It begins with distortion. The serpent does not attack the command first — he questions the character of God. He suggests that God is withholding something. That obedience limits us. That freedom means taking control for ourselves.
“You will be like God.”
The tragedy of Eden is not merely that fruit is eaten. It is that trust is broken. Adam and Eve grasp for what they think will secure them, not realizing they are already made in God’s image.
Sin is often nothing more than grasping for what was already given as gift.
And immediately shame enters. Hiding begins. Fear replaces communion. The garden becomes a place of concealment rather than relationship.
From Abundance to Barrenness
Now the Gospel takes us from garden to wilderness.
Jesus stands in a very different landscape. No abundance. No trees heavy with fruit. Only hunger. Isolation. Silence.
Where Adam had every tree but one, Jesus has no bread at all.
And yet the deeper test is the same: Will the Son trust the Father? The tempter begins again with distortion:
“If you are the Son of God…”
At His baptism, Jesus had just heard the Father say, “This is my beloved Son.” Now that identity is subtly questioned. Temptation often begins by unsettling our identity.
The First Temptation: Bread
“Turn these stones into bread.”
Jesus is hungry. The suggestion sounds reasonable. Use your power. Secure yourself. Feed yourself. But this temptation is not about bread. It is about independence.
Will Jesus rely on the Father — or secure Himself apart from Him? Our culture runs on this temptation.
We are constantly told:
Secure your future.
Control your destiny.
Depend on no one.
Your value lies in what you produce and possess.
We live in an economy of anxiety. More savings, more insurance, more control — as if life consists in bread alone. But Jesus responds,
“Man shall not live by bread alone.”
Bread matters. But it is not ultimate. Lent gently exposes where we are trying to survive on bread alone — where we reduce life to material security and forget that our deepest hunger is for God.
The Second Temptation: Spectacle
“Throw yourself down.”
The tempter even quotes Scripture. Distortion can sound religious.
“God will protect you,” he says. “Prove it.”
This is the temptation to manipulate God — to turn trust into a test.
In our world, we crave visible proof. Quick answers. Dramatic outcomes. Even faith can become performance — numbers, success, influence.
We may not stand on temple rooftops, but we often pray like this:
If I am faithful, protect me.
If I pray, fix this immediately.
If God is real, prove it.
Jesus refuses. “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” Faith is not spectacle. It is quiet obedience. It is trust without guarantees.
The Third Temptation: Power
“All these kingdoms I will give you.”
The devil offers Jesus authority — something He will ultimately receive — but without the cross. Take the shortcut. Avoid the suffering. Rule without sacrifice. We live in an age obsessed with power. Political power. Cultural dominance. Influence and control. Even the Church can be tempted to grasp for influence in order to feel secure — to win rather than to love, to dominate rather than to serve.
But Jesus chooses another way.
“Worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.”
He refuses coercion. He embraces surrender. He chooses the cross.
The New Adam
Paul tells us in Romans that Jesus is the new Adam.
Where Adam grasped, Christ trusted. Where Adam doubted, Christ obeyed.
Where Adam hid, Christ stood firm. The first act of disobedience opened the door to shame and death.
The obedient faithfulness of Christ opens the door to grace and life.
Lent is not about spiritual self-improvement. It is not about proving ourselves worthy. It is about learning to trust again.
The Wilderness Within
The wilderness is not only a place on a map. It is interior.
It is where our attachments surface. Where our anxieties are exposed. Where we see what we truly rely on.
When we fast, we confront our hunger for control.
When we pray, we release the need to test God.
When we give, we loosen our grip on security.
The world runs on anxiety, spectacle, and power.
Christ walks another way — trust, hiddenness, surrender.
And here is the good news:
We do not enter the wilderness alone.
The One who overcame temptation walks ahead of us. And when we fail — and we will — we do not sew fig leaves and hide. We return to Christ.
The story does not end in Genesis 3. It moves toward another garden —Gethsemane — where the Son will again choose trust: “Not my will, but yours be done.” The grasping of Eden is undone by the surrender of Christ.
A Lenten Question
So this Lent, perhaps the deeper question is not simply what we will give up.
It is this:
Where am I grasping instead of trusting?
Where am I demanding proof instead of walking in faith?
Where am I seeking power instead of surrender?
The wilderness is not abandonment. It is encounter. The Father who declared over Jesus, “You are my beloved Son,” speaks that same word over us in Christ. And because of the Second Adam, we do not journey back into shame.
We journey forward — into restored trust.
