Sunday 02.17.13

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus answered him,
“It is written, One does not live on bread alone.”

For the first time in a long time, I heard a homily today that felt wonderfully fulfilling and engaging. The priest addressed the way in which Jesus’ story is our story too; when Christ is tempted by Satan in today’s gospel, he experiences that which we experience. Though Christ is divine, God chose to become human. I often feel some inexplicable jealousy for Christ’s ability to show endurance and self-discipline against sin: why is He the kind of human I am not and am not capable of being?

The Georgetown Lenten reflection today thoughtfully notes, “In the course of our lives, we may sometimes feel that we have been driven into the desert. We hunger and thirst for something we can’t name; we feel lonely, unloved, unimportant, and unfulfilled. We may feel lost and abandoned. We’re faced with questions we’d rather not answer.”

It occurred to me that there are many things that God has forced me to confront this year that I would rather not face and questions I still refuse to answer. I am scared to think about what jobs, programs, and opportunities I will begin to pursue when I conclude TFA, and yet, I continue to refuse to hand it over to God. I try… but then I worry and ask, “will I ever find a place and a career that feel right?”

I miss the past, relentlessly, rather than taking advantage of opportunities. I waste time and lambast God for giving me a stressful life. I wish my faith were stronger when I don’t dedicate enough time to it. I feel hungry for security and peace about my future, yet I haven’t devoted it to God, nor have I dedicated time to actually researching opportunities. It’s as though in the midst of feeling out of control of my life in many ways, I am forced to reassess my priorities and how much I actually do have control over.

The Lenten reflection also notes, “Rather than leading the Israelites directly from the bounty of Egypt to ‘a land flowing with milk and honey,’ God led them into the desert, to a place of stillness and solitude so that they might hear him more clearly, respond more deeply, and worship more faithfully.” I must ask myself, did God place me in an almost untenable position this year so that I can change and grow in ways that are not yet visible to me? Is this all deliberate, and rather than him being sadistic, He has a loving plan for me?

In my darkest moments, I slip into what the priest called “me-ism” today: I focus on me to the extent that I do not give God the credit He deserves. I focus on all that I want, all that I think is best for me, all that I doubt, all that I would rather be doing, all that I have accomplished. What I really hunger for more than all else is a sense of selflessness that can liberate me from me.

Today’s gospel says that bread alone is not enough. This year I have focused on material things as a comfort—my new car, decorating my apartment, buying clothes, getting Starbucks way too often, buying more expensive groceries—the list could go on and on. I feel as though God wants me to return my life to a healthy equilibrium, where I turn inwards and upwards for peace; find more ways to use my talents to help others; dedicate my future to His will, whatever that may be. I want to worry less and crave more—more of Him, more of His peace, more of His grace.

I want to really know that bread alone is not enough—unless it is the bread of everlasting life. Allow me to use Lent as a time to renew my faith and try to deepen my understanding of my purpose.