Reflections on the temptations of Jesus

When we read about the temptations of Jesus, we usually focus on what the devil sought to induce Him to do. But there is another question worth considering. What was the enemy seeking to teach about the character of God? And what would Christ have said about His Father, had He yielded to any of these temptations?

Consider the first temptation.

After forty days in the wilderness, Jesus was hungry. It was then that the tempter approached Him with the suggestion, “If thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread.”

On the face of it, what could have been more reasonable? Here was a man who had gone without food for forty days, and who possessed the power to provide for Himself. Why should He continue to suffer hunger?

But there was something more in the suggestion. What kind of God would leave His own Son in such a precarious situation? Why would God lead Him into such a hard place, and then apparently make no provision for Him? If God really loved Him, why had He not supplied His needs, or at the least provided some means by which He might extract Himself from His difficulty?

Think of what this reasoning would mean to God’s other children. Think of those who have languished in prisons, who have wandered through deserts, mountains, dens and caves of the earth, persecuted and hated for His sake. Is this what devotion to God results in? That He brings His children into hard places and then leaves them there, helpless and unprovided for? Does their suffering mean that God is neither kind nor merciful?

Such was the picture of God implied in the temptation. The absence of bread was to be taken as evidence of the absence of God’s care.

But Jesus answered, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).

It is interesting that the passage He quoted came from Moses’ account of Israel’s own experience in the wilderness. God had allowed them to hunger, and afterward fed them with manna, that they might learn that their lives depended upon something more than the bread they could see and handle (Deuteronomy 8:3).

Christ Himself had been led into the wilderness by the Spirit, and He had gone willingly. He was there in obedience to His Father, not because His Father had ceased to care for Him.

It is as if He said, “I have esteemed the word of God above even my daily food. I was led here by the Spirit, and I came willingly. Hunger has come, but it has not altered the purpose for which I came, nor the goodness of the One who sent me.”

He would later speak of having “meat to eat which ye know not of”—that is, to do the will of Him who sent Him, and to finish His work (John 4:32–34). And He esteemed the performance of that will above even the immediate supply of His necessities.

His answer was not that bread was unnecessary, or that hunger was not a real hardship. Rather, He would not make the immediate supply of bread the measure of His Father’s love. The circumstances in which He found Himself had not changed the character of God, nor given Him any reason to distrust Him.

The second temptation seems, at first, to suggest the very opposite. Satan no longer insinuates that God has failed to provide. Instead, he appeals to God’s own promise of protection.

He brings Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple. And why the temple? It was the most important building in the religious life of a devout Jew, the place where sacrifices and gifts were offered that pointed forward to the coming of the Son of God. Surely there could be no more appropriate place for a demonstration of divine favour.

“See,” the devil says in effect, “God has promised in the Psalms that He will give His angels charge over you. They will bear you up in their hands so that you will not so much as strike your foot against a stone. If you really are the Son of God, and have come to do His will, why not throw yourself down? Has He not promised to protect you?”

But consider what kind of God is being represented here.

Suppose I were to throw myself from a great height, and then require God to prevent my fall because He has promised to care for me. If God is able to suspend the ordinary consequences of my actions, and if He really loves me, why should He not do so whenever I ask?

And if He can always be required to set aside the order which He Himself has established, what good sense is there in that order? Are His laws necessary for the preservation of life, or are they things which may be disregarded at pleasure, provided only that we can prevail upon their Maker to rescue us from the consequences?

Does a wise lawmaker establish laws which must continually be set aside in order to preserve those who disregard them?

Of course, this is not to deny that God can intervene in the natural world. He has done so, and Scripture records many such occasions. But there is a great difference between God coming to the aid of His children in their distress, and His children deliberately placing themselves in danger in order to demand a demonstration of His power.

The one may be an expression of mercy. The other would make God’s promises an excuse for presumption, and His power a substitute for good sense and obedience.

And what would that teach us about God? That His laws are arbitrary arrangements which need not be taken seriously, and that He Himself may be imposed upon at will. In effect, both the laws and their Maker are made to appear capricious.

Jesus answered, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God” (Matthew 4:7).

These words recalled the occasion when Israel tested God at Massah, asking, “Is the Lord among us, or not?” (Exodus 17:7; Deuteronomy 6:16). After all that God had done for them, they would still make His presence and faithfulness depend upon whether He would meet their immediate demands.

Christ would do no such thing. He had no need to create a needless emergency in order to discover whether His Father could be trusted.

God’s laws make good sense. The physical order He has established is not an inconvenience to be disregarded whenever we please, nor are His moral commands arbitrary restrictions upon our freedom. They are wise and good. To act with due regard for them is wisdom, and to trust God is not to insist that He set them aside at our command.

What is particularly interesting is that Satan had now tried two apparently contrary arguments. In the first, the absence of provision was to be taken as evidence that God did not care. In the second, the promise of provision was to be made a reason for demanding that God prove His care.

In either case, the creature was to prescribe the conditions under which the Creator must demonstrate His goodness.

There remained one further temptation.

From a high mountain the devil showed Jesus the kingdoms of the world and all their glory. He then made his extraordinary offer.

“You know who I am,” he said in effect. “I am the ruler of this world. Everything you see is mine, and I determine to whom its kingdoms are given. Now, if you will fall down and worship me, I will give them all to you.”

But what if Jesus had actually fallen down and worshipped the usurper? What would such an act have meant, and what message would it have conveyed to the universe?

Consider the principle upon which the proposal rested. The devil claimed to possess the kingdoms of the world and the power to dispose of them as he pleased. On that ground he demanded worship.

Is it not implied that whoever possesses such power has a rightful claim upon our allegiance? That the one who can exalt or abase, who can bestow prosperity and determine our fortunes, is therefore entitled to our worship?

And is this not remarkably close to the picture of God which the enemy has so often sought to impress upon our minds?

That God demands our worship simply because He is sovereign. That He owns everything, including us, and can dispose of His creatures as He pleases. We have been appointed a Sovereign whom we had no choice in accepting, and must worship Him because He has the power to require it of us.

There is no other claim He need make upon our lives.

But is this really the character of God? That He is our Creator and rightful Sovereign is certainly true. Yet is this all that can be said of Him? Is there nothing in His character, nothing in His dealings with His children, that should commend Him to our understanding and win our confidence and love?

What a poor conception of worship it would be if the only reason for it were that we had no choice.

Jesus answered, “Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve” (Matthew 4:10).

The Scripture He invoked was given to Israel shortly before they crossed over into Canaan. Moses had been reminding them that they were about to enter a land filled with good things which they had not obtained by their own efforts—houses they had not built, wells they had not dug, and vineyards they had not planted.

When they had eaten and were full, they were to beware lest they forgot the Lord who had brought them out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage (Deuteronomy 6:10–13).

Now consider the ground upon which God appealed to Israel for their loyalty.

He was not presenting Himself merely as a sovereign who possessed the power to command their worship. He was reminding them of what He had done for them, of the long history through which He had shown Himself interested and invested in their good and happiness.

He had delivered them from slavery, provided for them in the wilderness, borne with their repeated failures, and brought them to the borders of a land which He had promised them. They knew, or at least had every opportunity to know, what manner of God He was.

They were not to attribute their success and prosperity to themselves, nor give the honour due to their Benefactor to gods of their own making. Nor was their worship to be regarded as the price they paid for the blessings they received. Rather, those blessings were to remind them of the character of the One who had bestowed them.

God desired their freedom and love. He wanted their worship to be given intelligently and willingly, as the response of those who had come to know and trust Him.

His claim upon them was not merely that He possessed power, but that He had consistently used His power for their good.

It is worth observing that all three of Christ’s answers came from the same book of Scripture, and from passages in which Moses was teaching Israel how to understand the dealings of God with them. The people had known hunger, had tested God’s faithfulness, and had been warned against turning to other gods when prosperity came.

In the wilderness, where Israel had so often failed to trust God, Christ refused every suggestion that would misrepresent His Father. He would not interpret hunger as abandonment, make God’s promises an excuse for presumption, or accept the possession of power as the sufficient ground of worship.

In every instance, He maintained the truth about the character of God.

God is not the kind of Person His enemies have made Him out to be—arbitrary, unforgiving and severe. God is just as loving and trustworthy as His Son, just as willing to forgive and heal.

Though infinite in majesty and power, our Creator is an equally gracious Person who values the freedom, dignity and individuality of His intelligent creatures. He desires that their love, their faith, and their willingness to listen and obey should be freely given. He even prefers to regard us not as servants but as friends (John 15:15).

This is the truth revealed throughout the books of Scripture. It is the everlasting Good News that wins the trust and admiration of God’s loyal children throughout the universe.