Summary: The devil not only figures prominently in biblical literature, but also on Hollywood's silver screen. He's very popular on social media. But for Jesus, who is about to begin a three-year itinerant ministry, the devil is a very real opponent and a surprising one. In his experience, we learn what to do when the devil shows up.
Sometimes he's temptation in a three-piece suit, suave and sophisticated, like Al Pacino in The Devil's Advocate -- a sharply dressed, smooth-talking lawyer with dangerous charisma. Other times, he's as charming as a fast-talking car salesman behind on his quota (no offense to those good sales people just making a living). He's slick and the definition of charm itself. He can "sweet-talk a fencepost into walking." Doesn't the Bible say that he might appear to us as an "angel of light?"1 The movies also show us a seductive devil like in Bedazzled, offering fame, fortune and romance with a wink and a contract.
But Hollywood is also not afraid to give us the terrifying devil, the one sporting horns, hooves and flames, as though he's Dante's host of the Inferno. Or, think of the sinister and demonic force in The Exorcist or The Omen.
Yet other depictions of the devil render him a comic fool, a red-suited figure in cartoons, pitchfork in hand, whispering into someone's ear, a sort of an anti-Santa Claus, for those who have been naughty, not nice. Or even as Lucifer, the star of the eponymous Netflix show, in which the defiant archangel leaves hell, and now is a proprietor of a nightclub in Los Angeles, teaming up with an LAPD detective. The surprise is that Lucifer Morningstar startles everyone, including some of his pals from the underworld, by protecting the innocent and punishing the evildoers.
But no matter the form, these portrayals usually get one thing right: The devil shows up when something big is about to happen.
In today's Gospel reading, the devil appears at the threshold of Jesus' ministry -- right after his baptism and right before he begins preaching, healing and calling disciples. No surprise then that the devil's likely to be there right when you're about to do something great for God, or at the decisive moment when you realize you have a habit that needs to be broken or at the very inconvenient instant you achieve what many would say is your crowning moment of success.
The devil shows up, crashing the party!
Matthew 4 reminds us that temptation isn't just about weakness -- it's often about timing. The devil comes when you're hungry, alone, tired ... or just about to do something meaningful for God.
So, the question isn't if the devil will show up. It's when. And more importantly: Will we be ready?
On the first Sunday in Lent, the 40-day journey with Jesus begins when he heads for the deep, mountainous wilderness east of Jericho, a place of loneliness, hunger and testing. This isn't a VRBO retreat. It is 40 days of solitude, silence and spiritual confrontation.
But it's also a sacred space -- because it's here in this desolate landscape, that Jesus begins his public ministry. The text tells us that Jesus was "led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tested by the devil." This is not a detour; it is divine direction. It seems to be the way God operates. For example, the Israelites spent 40 years in the wilderness before they reached the Promised Land. Joseph was thrown into a pit and sold into slavery before rising to power in Egypt. David ran from Saul and hid in caves before taking the throne. Even Moses spent 40 years in Midian tending sheep before God called to him from the burning bush.
Over and over, the pattern holds: wilderness before calling, silence before speech, testing before triumph. It's clear that at some point, we're going to face a wilderness of confusion and conflict.
The first temptation is about hunger: "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread." After 40 days of fasting, this is no small enticement. But Jesus responds with scripture: "One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God."
Notice the strategy: The devil starts by attacking Jesus' identity. If you are the Son of God. It's the same tactic the serpent used in Eden: casting doubt on God's Word and God's love. But Jesus doesn't take the bait. He refuses to define himself by his appetite. His identity is grounded in his relationship with the Father.
This is a reminder to us: Temptation often comes not just in the form of a desire, but in the form of a question. Who do you think you are? If you are really a follower of Jesus, then ...
This is insidious, because when the devil casts doubt on who we are, all bets are off. The devil tried it with Jesus, so no surprise if he tries it with us, too. The best reaction, then, when the devil shows up, is to remember who we are. We're not our accomplishments. We're much more than our failures. We're not defined by our politics or the labels the world gives us. We're defined by God: baptized believers, claimed by God, marked with the sign of the cross and sealed with the Holy Spirit.
Recall the scene in The Hunger Games, where Katniss is about to be thrown into a brutal contest, and her stylist and ally Cinna reminds her, "You're different. You don't just play their game. You make them remember you're more than this."
It's good advice for all of us. "Remember, you're more than this." Whatever wilderness we find ourselves in, whatever trials we face, we don't have to play the enemy's game. We don't need to accept the labels the devil or anyone else tries to pin on us. We can remember who we really are -- and Whose we really are. And in doing so, we can stand firm and say with quiet conviction, "I am God's, and that's enough."
The second temptation is theatrical -- literally. The devil turns up the drama, placing Jesus on the highest point of the temple, with all of Jerusalem watching below. "Jump," he says. "Prove who you are. The Bible says the angels will catch you, doesn't it?"
It's spiritual manipulation dressed in religious language. And it sounds eerily familiar. How often do we hear, "If God really loves you, he'll protect you from pain ... he'll make you successful ... he'll come through on your terms"? It's the temptation to use faith like a lever -- to treat God like a cosmic stunt coordinator who's supposed to catch us when we demand it. It's not a good look.
No wonder that Jesus won't play that game. He fires back, "Do not put the Lord your God to the test." He won't force God's hand. He won't turn trust into theatrics.
Faith is not flashy. Trust isn't loud. Sometimes real faith looks like staying when you want to run, being still when you want answers or keeping your vows when no one's watching. Trust doesn't grab headlines. But it anchors the soul.
People love a spectacle. How else can you explain why people turned out in the Middle Ages to watch a hanging or a heretic get burned at the stake? But Lent pulls us in a different direction. It teaches us that we don't need to step into a bonfire or embrace some other form of martyrdom to prove our faith in God's protection. We just need to walk with God -- one honest step at a time.
The third temptation is political. The devil shows Jesus the thrones and kingdoms of the world and offers them all in exchange for worship. This is a shortcut to glory. No suffering. No cross. Just bow and reign.
But Jesus says, "Away with you, Satan! For it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" Jesus knows his mission. He knows that the way to resurrection runs through rejection. It's a seductive and powerful proposal, but Jesus knows it's not redemptive or satisfying.
This temptation is as relevant today as perhaps never before. We're tempted to trade integrity for influence, to chase applause instead of obedience. But this vignette from the life of Jesus reminds us to remember who we are. We are the people of God with two things to do: Worship God, and "serve only him."
We don't worship God because God needs it, but because we do. Worship reminds us of who God is, and who we are. To serve God only is an oblique way of saying that there is no better way to serve God than to serve others. We serve others because every person bears the image of God, and that when we serve the least of these, we serve Christ himself.2
So, when the devil shows up, show him the door. And when the devil leaves, angels come. Jesus is not abandoned in the wilderness. Like Elijah of old, he is attended by the angels. So, we begin this season of Lent with angels and ashes. We remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. But we also remember the One who overcame temptation, not with force, but with faithfulness to the word of God. Nothing positive can come from giving the devil a foot in the door; like the proverbial camel, he will soon be inside the tent. Pope Francis once advised, "Never dialogue with temptation, never dialogue with the devil."3 It's good advice.
Jesus emerged from the wilderness not weakened, but ready. This is the journey of Lent. Let us walk it with courage.