The kind of temptation with which I deal best — is the kind of temptation that doesn’t really tempt me much. You know what I mean? There’s a whole list of things that I know temp other people but that just don’t usually tempt me. Like some people are really tempted by lemon meringue. I think it’s OK, but I don’t love it, so I can be strong, and confident, and in control, and I’m not very likely to break my diet if that’s the only choice.

That’s a silly example, but you get the picture. The fact is, I’m at my best, my very best, when I’m dealing with those temptations — the ones that don’t really tempt me much. But real temptation, the tempting temptation, does not usually come to us when we are at our best — strong, and in our environment, and confident, and in control, and not really wanting the tempting thing much anyway. Temptation is wily; it comes when we are weak, and lonely, and scared, and tired, and dislocated, and longing, hungry.

After his baptism, Jesus goes into the wilderness, a glary, desolate stretch of desert with jagged rocks and soil as dry as talcum. It’s a scary place that will kill you and not care. Jesus has fasted there. He is weak, and tired, and hungry. It is then that the Devil, the tempter, comes to him. "If you are the Son of God," the tempter says, "turn these stones into bread. "If you are the Son of God," the tempter says, "throw yourself off the pinnacle of the Temple and show people that the angels will save you." "Fall down and worship me," the tempter says, "and I will give you power over all the kingdoms of the world."

This isn’t Jesus’ version of my lemon meringue. He’s hungry — and he is offered bread. He longs for the world to believe — and he is offered a miraculous display that will make him famous. He desperately wants to reform the powers of the world — and he is offered control over every kingdom on earth. Think of the good that could come from all of these things — feeding the hungry, bringing the world to faith, spreading justice and peace to every corner of the earth. True temptations.

Jesus just says, "No." And each time, he quotes the scripture that he has been raised with, the scripture that has formed him. "One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." "Do not put the Lord your God to the test." "Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him." "No."

I’d like you to think about what really tempts you. It might not be the same list of things that tempt the person next to you. Maybe lemon meringue makes your mouth water. For me it’s Jane Holloman’s brownies — warm — alamode. (Give me a moment.) But we’re getting pretty trivial here. What’s wrong with me eating Jane’s brownies? Nothing, if I don’t do it very often. But if I do it as often as I’d like (which would be, like, every day), what’s the problem with that? I would not be caring for myself. And what’s the problem with that? I am a beloved child of God, and I should respect that in myself. How do I know? God told me that at my baptism.

Ah, we’ve moved from the ridiculous (an example about eating dessert) to the sublime (baptism shows us that we are God’s beloved children). Note that Jesus’ temptations come right after he has been baptized, right after the skies opened and the dove descended and the voice from heaven said, "You are my beloved Son, the one with whom I am well pleased." And the devil begins his temptations by saying, "If you are the Son of God. . . ." Here’s the crux of it: it’s not that the things the devil offers are necessarily bad things in and of themselves; it’s that they tempt him to ignore his baptism, to forget who he is, to disregard that he is the beloved child of his Father in heaven. He is tempted to take control of everything, to act in ways that are not God’s ways, and he will not. He remembers who he is; he remembers his baptism. He says, in effect, "I am the Son of God, and the answer is, ‘No.’"

Think of temptation in that light. Think of it as that which tries to get you to forget who you were created to be as a child of God. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and our Anglican brother from South Africa, lived through a terrible struggle with apartheid in that country. In the midst of those times of oppression, fear, violence, and seeming hopelessness, even Bishop Tutu’s closest colleagues were sometimes distressed by his tolerance and moderation as they urged him to be more aggressive with his opponents. One of them said, "At his age, you’d think he would have learned to hate a little more. But there is a problem with Tutu," the man went on. "He really believes in the gospel."

In the midst of that temptation to hate, Bishop Tutu remembered who he was, a baptized and beloved child of a loving God.

We’ve talked about some silly examples of temptation this morning: lemon meringue pie, brownies alamode. If you need some help coming up with other areas in which you might be tempted, we’ve got it in the Great Litany. Right off the bat, the Great Litany gives us a list of things that tempt people. It doesn’t seem trivial to me: blindness of heart, pride, vainglory, hypocrisy, envy, hatred, malice, all want of charity, all inordinate and sinful affections, all false doctrine, heresy, and schism, hardness of heart, and contempt of God’s Word and commandment. That list is not exhaustive, but is sure is a good start.

Faced with those temptations and the thousands, millions, of others that test us day in and day out, remember who you are: a beloved child of God. And faced with temptations, ask yourself: "Am I acting like a beloved child of God?"

When you fail, and you will fail (or we wouldn’t need to recite the Great Litany), when you fail, remember who God is. And you can be sure, even when you are not acting like who you are, God will act like whom God is — more loving and forgiving than we can imagine.