Lent as a Resistance Movement

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller on the First Sunday in Lent + Sunday, March 9, 2025.

Think of Lent as a resistance movement. Jesus resists the devil and says, “get lost, buddy.” In baptism we renounce the powers of evil, and tell them, in essence, to get away from us. For some, not only in Lent—but always—we try to resist the lure of our personal addictions.

Lent is also a journey, a lifetime one at that. And an arduous journey is a trek. Which brings me to Star Trek. And to the well-known catchphrase that Star Trek fans, and maybe others, will know. Resistance is futile.

Trekkies correct me if I’m wrong—because that’s what they do—the Borg are the recurring antagonists in the Star Trek universe. They’re linked together by a hive mind called “The Collective.” The Borg forcibly transform individuals into drones and surgically augment them with technological components.

To what end? To take over the universe. When they come in contact with Mr. Spock, Captain Kirk, and the rest of the crew, the message is clear: “You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.”

Today’s gospel comes at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Fresh from his baptism, the Spirit leads him into the wilderness, a place of testing and temptation. If you’re famished, I wonder how you might see, through a blur, the devil coming to tempt you with a power trip.

One author suggests that in each of three tests, Jesus is being invited to manifest a divine superpower: to turn stones into bread, to jump off the highest building in the city, and to become king of the whole world. Would that be beautiful? To have folks bend the knee and kiss your ring.

But Jesus will have none of it. When the devil quotes scripture to Jesus, he retorts with other passages. It’s dangerous to quote the Bible to the Son of God for your own malevolent purposes. The scriptures call Satan the “father of lies.” Eerie to recognize that lies and deception are nothing new.

When Jesus chooses to reject the quick bread fix, he points to dependence on God, one another, our planet, even our non-human residents. When Jesus refuses to jump from the temple pinnacle, he rejects the image of the Strong Man, and points to the opposite values of vulnerability and trust. When Jesus says a firm no to the power trip of ego and control, he models a different way, out of style these days: humility and putting others first. The entirety of Jesus’ ministry will reveal a resistance to the ways of the world that will lead to his death.

Several weeks ago, one of the most famous Lutherans of our day, Martin Marty, died at age 97. As one of the foremost interpreters of American religion, Marty considered tribalism the greatest threat of our time. That’s what he would want us to resist. Resist the urge to watch out only for your own interest, your own family, your own town, your own country, your own religion, your own tribe—at the expense of others. Marty believed that everyone who plays by the rules of civility, and reasoned examination of evidence, belongs at the table of public discussion.

 Our reading from Romans urges us to do more than resist—to confess Jesus as Lord. If that makes you uncomfortable and sounds too much like Christians who speak about Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior, consider this twist. Scholars remind us that when early Christians confessed Jesus as Lord, it was a political statement. Jesus is Lord. And therefore, Caesar is not! It was a rejection of the Roman Empire and all its trappings. The Romans worshipped Emperors like gods. They believed they were divinely appointed to rule. And thus to subjugate. Intimidate. Bully. Censor. To confess Jesus as Lord was risky. It could lead to your death.

Some Christians—not the ones in the news—resist any blending of God and country. One Mennonite pastor writes, “When Christians abstain from the national anthem or decline to swear before a jury, we put on display what the government cannot do. Each time we refuse the Pledge of Allegiance or remove the American flag from our sanctuaries—each act cultivates a pattern of nonconformity to state coercion. One author (Debra Dean Murphy) reminds us that baptism ‘is an act of disaffiliation, conferring an identity at odds with the ways we are named and claimed by family, nation, and ideology. We are, by baptism, a people who do not obey in advance.2

My niece has been urging her brother, her dad, and me to make weight resistance part of our work-out as a way not only to build strength, but also to improve balance and stability. To build resistance takes practice and effort. To build spiritual resistance will take a community, for sure!

You’ve heard the phrase “rinse and repeat.” Or “shampoo, rinse and repeat.” In one ballet class, the teacher calls out: “Pause . . . hold . . . resist.” After every turn or lunge there is the need to place their heel on the ground and come to rest. As one writer says of Lent: resist the pull of gravity, even for a second. Resist the urge to land where you normally land.

The gravitational force today seems to be indifference. In fact, when Pope Francis was asked last May what he thought was the greatest problem in the world today, his answer was: indifference.

What do you need to resist this Lent? Indifference? Binging? Lashing out? Getting stuck? Being too hard on yourself?

Sometimes we need to resist as we stand up to injustice, lies, and hatred. Other times we need to surrender to things that we cannot change. There is a time to resist and a time to surrender.

I leave you with these three very Lutheran, very Lenten r’s.

Repent. Change your mind. Turn your life around.

Resist. Renounce the power of evil.

Return. Return to the Lord with all your heart.

Come again and again to this table of mercy and grace. It is truly irresistible.  

1 Inspiration from Timothy Schenk, sermon on March 10, 2019.

2 Melissa Florer-Bixler, “An Ungovernable Faith”