Preached on Sunday, February 22, 2026, the First Sunday in Lent, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock.

“Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” (Matthew 4:1)

The first thing to notice about this Gospel is where it happens: the wilderness. In Holy Scripture, the wilderness is never just about geography. The wilderness is about exposure. The wilderness is the place where comfortable certainties fall away and the real struggle begins. Lent is our annual reminder that the Christian life always includes some time in the wilderness.

And one of the things that always happens in the wilderness is that we are tempted. When comfortable certainties fall away, when the real struggle begins, we are vulnerable to the temptations that can draw us away from God. So it was for our Lord, and so it is for us who follow after Him. In the wilderness, temptation creeps in.

Notice how the tempter comes to Jesus. The devil does not arrive with something obviously false. Satan does not urge Jesus to abandon God outright. The tempter comes quoting Scripture.

That detail should give us pause. It teaches us that one of the very real dangers of the wilderness is not simply that we will ignore the Bible. The greater danger is that temptation will have us misread the Bible.

In the fourth century, when many Christians fled into the deserts of Egypt and Syria to pray and to seek God more seriously, one young monk went to an older desert elder for some advice. The young brother said that, whenever he tried to pray, countless passages of Scripture flooded his mind in ways that left him anxious and unsettled. He feared that God was constantly displeased with him. He feared that every harsh word in the Bible was aimed directly at his soul. The old monk responded, “My son, even the devil quotes the psalms.”

Those early Christians understood something we are still learning. The problem in the wilderness is not always that we are tempted to abandon Scripture. Sometimes the problem is that we are tempted to read Scripture poorly.

So it is with Satan. The devil does quote the Psalms, but the devil quotes them selectively. The devil quotes them in a way that encourages Jesus to grasp at power and to avoid trust. The words sound religious and faithful, but the reading is distorted.

Jesus refuses the distortion. And notice how He does it: Jesus answers Scripture with Scripture. Jesus doesn’t throw Scripture away. He reaches deeper into the Word of God. Jesus shows us that faithful discipleship requires more than knowing a few verses. Faithful discipleship requires learning to read the Bible as a whole.

We face the same danger in our own wilderness seasons. We are often tempted by misreadings that sound convincing at first glance.

We may be tempted to read that God is harsh, vengeful, and eager to punish. But if we keep reading, we meet again and again a God Who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

We may be tempted to believe that God always wants the easiest path for our lives. We may assume God’s steadfast love removes every struggle and smooths out every road. But if we keep reading, we hear Jesus say plainly, “Take up your cross and follow me.” 

We may be tempted to use Scripture to justify our anger toward others. We may reach for isolated verses that seem to give us permission to harden our hearts. But if we keep reading, we encounter the persistent command to forgive seventy times seven, to love our enemies, and to pray for those who persecute us.

We may be tempted to believe that our worth before God depends on our own performance. We may read certain passages and conclude that everything rests on our effort and discipline. But if we keep reading, we discover the steady baseline of grace. We discover that salvation belongs to the Lord and that mercy always precedes our response.

In every case, temptation begins with a partial, distorted reading. The correction comes only when we remain faithful students of the whole.

That reality gives us a very practical Lenten calling. After all, you’ll remember that, on Ash Wednesday, when the Celebrant invited us to observe a holy Lent, one of the ways listed was “by reading and meditating in God’s holy Word”—and this is exactly why [1]. If we want to resist the temptations of the wilderness, we must become a people of the Book. Casual familiarity will not sustain us. Occasional glances will not protect us. We need habits that allow the Word of God to dwell richly within us.

Lent offers a particularly good time to begin—or to begin again. You do not need an elaborate plan; just a realistic one. You might set aside ten minutes each morning to read a passage slowly and without hurry. You might keep a Psalm by your bedside and pray it at the close of the day. You might follow the daily lectionary so that the Church’s rhythm guides your reading. You might choose one quiet place in your home where the Bible remains open and visible as a gentle invitation. You might come to one of our Bible studies, either on Monday mornings or Wednesday mornings, or to daily Morning Prayer in Pierce Chapel. Whatever your plan, consistency matters more than intensity, patience more than speed. The goal is not to become a master. The goal is to become more faithful. 

Over time, something begins to happen when we give ourselves to the steady reading of Scripture. The tone of the Bible becomes more familiar. The character of God becomes clearer. The voice of the tempter becomes easier to recognize. You begin to notice when a reading feels thin, when a verse is being stretched beyond its truth, when the easy interpretation does not sound like the crucified and risen Lord.

Jesus entered the wilderness prepared because the Word of God already lived within Him. He knew His Bible. The same grace is offered to us. The Holy Spirit still forms the Church through the faithful hearing and reading of Scripture. All we have to do is take that first step and begin those quiet but all so important habits of reading. 

So, in these early days of Lent, do not let the Bible remain a closed book on the shelf or a voice you hear only on Sunday mornings. Take it up. Sit with it. Stay with it long enough for the larger story to reshape your instincts. Because the wilderness will come, and when it does, we will need more than a passing familiarity. We will need the deep, steady witness of the God Who has made Himself known in those most Sacred Pages. Amen.

[1] 1979 Book of Common Prayer, page 265.