Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 Psalm 32 Romans 5:12-19 Matthew 4:1-11
There are two gardens in our stories today. Two gardens, one overarching story:
The first is full. Fruit hangs heavy. Water runs clear. God walks at dusk. Nothing is lacking. Humanity breathes air that still carries God’s breath. They are made in God’s image. Formed by God’s hands. Held in God’s presence. They are already beloved.
But they do not truly yet know it — not deep in their bones. Not in the place where fear lives.
And so a whisper enters. Did God really say…?
It is such a small sentence. But beneath it lies a deeper question: Are you sure God is for you? Are you sure you are safe? Are you sure you have enough? Are you sure you ARE enough?
And because belovedness is not yet trusted… the fruit becomes irresistible. Not because they are wicked. But because they are afraid. Afraid there is more they must secure. More they must become. So the hand reaches. Trying to grasp what they believe has been withheld. Trying to become like God… while already bearing God’s image.
That is the heartbreak of the first garden. Not that they were unloved. But that they did not trust that they were.
There is a second garden. A wilderness.
Stone. Dust. Silence.
Jesus has just come from the river. And the last words spoken over him are this:
Son. Beloved. Pleased.
Before he heals anyone. Before he proves anything. Before he performs a single miracle. Beloved. And the Spirit leads him into the desert. Not to test his strength…
but to test his remembering.
Forty days of hunger. Real hunger. The kind that strips you back to instinct. And into that hunger comes the voice.
If you are the Son of God…
It is Eden again. The same ancient destabilising.
Are you sure? Are you certain of who you are? Are you enough?
Turn these stones into bread.
Secure yourself. Feed your fear. Don’t trust provision.
But this time…the hand does not reach. Hunger remains. But belovedness remains too. And it runs so much deeper, so foundational, so fundamental. Beloved as identity. Jesus does not grasp… because he trusts what has already been spoken.
Throw yourself down. The tempter recoils.
Prove it. Make belovedness visible.
But Jesus refuses. Because belovedness does not need performance. It is settled ground beneath him.
Take the kingdoms. Another jibe.
Power. Security. Control.
A way to never feel vulnerable again. But again — he refuses. Because he will not secure himself against a world already held by God.
So we stand between two gardens. In the first, humanity grasped…not because it was unloved…but because it did not truly know and trust that it was loved.
In the second, Christ releases…because belovedness is no longer in question.
Adam reached to become what he already was.
Christ refused to grasp — because he already knew.
That is the difference. Not love given…but love trusted.
And somewhere between those two gardens… is us. Because temptation still sounds the same.
Are you sure you are safe? Are you sure you are enough? Are you sure God will provide?
And when we do not trust the answer…we grasp. We hoard. We prove. We secure ourselves against imagined abandonment. We reach for fruit we do not need…
because we fear we are on our own.
Lent begins here. Not with willpower. But with remembering.
Remembering what was spoken over us long before we proved anything.
Child of God. Beloved.
The wilderness does not make us beloved.
It reveals whether we trust that we already are.
Two gardens. One where humanity forgot who it was. One where Christ remembered.
And the long journey of Lent is the journey back to trusting what was always true.
Beloved. Amen.
Holy Adventures 