Have you ever been somewhere that is somehow desolate and beautiful at the same time? Seems like a strange juxtaposition, I can think of at least a few places, one in particular.

Some time ago, I visited one of my best friends, Peter. He was living in Amman, Jordan, at the time, and he took me to one of his favorite places. It's in the southeastern part of the country near the border of Saudi Arabia. A massive desert valley layered in sand, cut by cliffs of granite and sandstone; it's called Wadi Rum. It's huge. 280 square miles to be exact. Good thing I went in November. The temperatures are dangerously high in the summer. Also you're hard pressed to find water. It barely rains. It's a desert. Good luck finding trees or shrubs. You know? Maybe someone else might conclude it's just desolate, not desolate and beautiful. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Wadi Rum is a wilderness, and what good can come from a wilderness?

Perhaps that's one reason why I've always found it curious that the Lord Jesus sojourned in the wilderness at the beginning of Luke 4 shortly just after the jubilation of his baptism. We can assume that he went in his own power, but the text also says that the Spirit that sent him there. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps the Spirit conscripted him. Perhaps it was a little of both. 

What we do know is that Jesus has been here for a while. Forty days to be exact. I imagine the temperatures were dangerously high, that he was hard pressed to find water. Probably not a lot of trees or shrubs. In fact, it was a dangerous place. In Mark's version of this story, Jesus is surrounded by animals, but not the cute ones in our homes. Mark 1:13 says there were "wild beasts" nearby. Now, it's one thing to do battle in a place that's dry and desolate and desperate when you feel strong. It's another thing altogether to do battle when you feel weak. And Jesus feels weak. He has not eaten this whole time. Here is where the Evil One tempts him.

The Devil comes to Jesus when he's empty promising him that, with his help, he will be full. "If you are the Son of God," he says, "command this stone to become a loaf of bread." He comes to Jesus when he's near powerless promising him that, with his help, he will become powerful. "If you will bow down and worship me," the Devil says, "then all the kingdoms of the world will be yours." He comes to Jesus when he's weak promising him, that with his help, he will be made strong. He says from the pinnacle of the temple, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for God will command his angels concerning you, to protect you."      

So often, it's in our these moments and seasons of weakness that we start to see things, things that aren't there: the mirages in the desert, the holograms in the alley, the shadows instead of the substance of things. When you think about it, this is exactly what the Devil tries to do to Jesus. He tries to get him to see the way things seem to be instead of the way things really are. If I might borrow a line from the English poet William Blake: "This Life's Five Windows of the Soul; Distorts the Heavens from Pole to Pole; And leads you to Believe a Lie; When you see with not thro the Eye." The Evil One wants Jesus to see with the eye instead of through it.

But Jesus will have none of it. At his core, Jesus knows what we should know. Not everything that glitters is gold. So Jesus claps back at the Devil. "One does not live by bread alone," he says, "but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." "Worship the Lord, and serve him only." "Do not put the Lord your God to the test." Perhaps things are different than they seem. Perhaps Jesus is strong even when he seems to be weak.

When I consider all that Jesus says and does here, I can't help but be reminded of an experiment that Jim Loehr and Jack Groppel conduct every year. They are the co-founders of LGE Performance Systems, an elite coaching institute in the Florida Everglades. Loehr and Groppel conduct an experiment that almost all of their clients fail. They ask the people they train, most of whom are elite athletes, to run two miles in 18 minutes. Hardly challenging. Run for one mile. Touch the post, turn around, and run back. They assign them to groups of 3-5 people. Before they start, they tell them the path is unpredictable. There's a small canal. It's the Everglades. They may see some water moccasins or alligators. But just stay away from them, they say. A few seconds before the race begins, they also tell them to watch out for wild boars. They're mean and aggressive. If they see one, they should take action. The main thing to remember is that, whatever happens, they need to complete the mission. 

What the high-performance athletes don't know is that there is a staff member from LGE Performance Systems waiting half a mile down the path. This person's job is simple. Video camera in hand to capture the reaction, their job is to rustle around in the brush and to make the sound of a wild boar. What happens almost every time when the runners the boar in the brush? They panic! They turn around and make a high-tail sprint back to the training center. When their leaders ask them, "Did you complete the mission?" all they can say is, "No, we heard a sound."

Now, two groups respond differently than the elite athletes and just two. In the same experiment, they have a different response to the staff member rustling in the brush like a boar. Military units and law enforcement units respond differently. They've already been taught that panic is not an acceptable response in a crisis. In adversity, they remember their training. 

Is this not also the case with the Lord Jesus? In a crisis, he refuses to panic. In adversity, he remembers his training. Things are not as they seem in the wilderness. It seems like Jesus is alone, but he is not alone. According to Mark's account, angels attended him. The Spirit that led him into the wilderness to be tempted is the same Spirit that leads him out. In Luke 14:14, we read: "Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee." Things are not as they seem.

I would imagine that at least some who are listening have already done their Lenten homework. If you have, you know there is a connection between Lent and this story. 40 days in the wilderness. 40 days of Lent. Prayer, chastening, and stripping down in the case of Jesus. The same posture in Lent. But really? A wilderness? What good can come from a wilderness?

Let me propose that a lot of good can come if we let it. Yes, in Scripture, the wilderness is a place of rebellion, temptation, judgment. A whole generation dies off in the wilderness. But is that all that it is? According to R. T. France, in Jewish thought, "to be in the wilderness was to be prepared for a new beginning with God." God sees Hagar in the wilderness. New beginning. God calls Moses in the wilderness. New beginning. The word of God comes to John the Baptist in the wilderness. New beginning. Jesus defeats the Devil in the wilderness. New beginning.

What if Lent could be for you a new beginning? I still remember my visit to Wadi Rum like it was yesterday, this dry, desolate, and desolate place. But, oh, you should see the beautiful cliffs of granite and sandstone, cliffs so high and striking they have inspired epic films like Star Wars and Dune and Lawrence of Arabia. You should stand atop one of these cliffs when the air is fresh and the horizon clear. You can see the Dead Sea in the North. Saudi Arabia in the South. Watch the orange Sun setting in the West and the glimmering moon rising in the East. Walk around at night. Gaze up at the glorious night sky, at stars too numerous to count. It is beautiful and desolate here, desolate and beautiful. Just like Lent. If only you have eyes to see it.