Scripture Scribbles: February 22, 2026
the Gospel
Matthew 4:1-11
At that time Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert
to be tempted by the devil.
He fasted for forty days and forty nights,
and afterwards he was hungry.
The tempter approached and said to him,
“If you are the Son of God,
command that these stones become loaves of bread.”
He said in reply,
“It is written:
One does not live on bread alone,
but on every word that comes forth
from the mouth of God.”
Then the devil took him to the holy city,
and made him stand on the parapet of the temple,
and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down.
For it is written:
He will command his angels concerning you
and with their hands they will support you,
lest you dash your foot against a stone.”
Jesus answered him,
“Again it is written,
You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.”
Then the devil took him up to a very high mountain,
and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence,
and he said to him, "All these I shall give to you,
if you will prostrate yourself and worship me.”
At this, Jesus said to him,
“Get away, Satan!
It is written:
The Lord, your God, shall you worship
and him alone shall you serve.”
Then the devil left him and, behold,
angels came and ministered to him.
the scribble
In times of trouble, who do you turn to?
In times of desperation, who do you call?
In times of confusion, what do you do to find your way?
In times of desolation, what do you cling to?
The Gospel today has me sitting with Jesus in the desert. It says:
He fasted for forty days and forty nights,
and afterwards he was hungry.
What was it like for Christ, to be sitting in the desert, hungry?
As I pondered this, I got the nudge to go deeper with the word hungry. Where do we get this word, and what does it even truly mean? According to the Online Etymology Dictionary:
“The word ‘hungry’ has its roots in Old English hungrig, derived from the noun hungor (hunger/famine). It originates from the Proto-Germanic root *hungruz and can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European (PIE) root *kenk- (to suffer hunger, desire, or burn).”
To suffer. To desire. To burn.
Come with me, if you will, to this place today.
Take a moment. Close your eyes.
Allow yourself to be led by the Spirit into the desert, too.
You’re alone. You’re hungry. You are deeply desiring something.
Something to fill your gaping hole.
Have you ever felt this way in life?
Perhaps you are in the middle of a desert right now. It could be in a relationship, or an unmet desire, a situation, or a frustrating set of circumstances. It could be grief. Or regret. Loss or loneliness. It could be from something just out of reach, something out of your control.
Now imagine being pushed to the very end of your rope.
The hunger clawing, threatening to overcome you.
When we are here… Who do we turn to? What do we do? Even now, as you pray with this, where is your heart led first? Do you feel panic, fear, anger, hopelessness? Is your instinct to run for the hills? Maybe to shut it down completely or to see where else you could go to find help.
What strikes me in today’s reading is that Jesus (our model) confidently turns to His Father.
He does not panic. He does not run in fear. He does not look for an escape route. He does not turn to blind fury, despair, self-blame, or hopelessness. Instead, He steadies Himself on the Truth. He digs deep into His well of His relationship with God, using the Scriptures as His lifeline (“it is written” He says, four times).
And it makes me wonder: Is that what I do, too, in times of hunger, desperation, fear, temptation, or loneliness? Do I rest assured in God’s goodness and love? Or do I doubt, blame, cave in on myself, or take it out on others? Do I panic, wondering where He is or why He has left me behind?
I feel the Holy Spirit inviting me to sit in this desert a little longer.
Even if it is uncomfortable.
I feel Him asking me just to notice what my first instinct is when I am alone in this desert. I feel Him asking me to, without judging, simply become aware of the places I seek answers, comfort, pleasure, or resolution outside of Him and His Goodness.
In this dark, cold, winter season, the Lord has surprised me by helping me notice in an ever-deeper way the profound beauty within it. And, slowly but surely, I’ve noticed that somehow beauty is even more piercing in a unique and special way when everything else is frozen and dormant.
A sprig of pine and red berries against a clear blue sky.
The slow and gentle rising of the warm sun against a plate of fresh, white snow.
The sound of birds singing with delight, interrupting the quiet stillness.
It’s like it's more clear. More pure. And you appreciate it all the more.
One night, while sitting in the dark, peacefully nursing my baby, I sat pondering this. And suddenly, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, very clearly, just three simple words:
Winter purifies beauty.
Wow. What a profound truth to sit and ponder.
Often I find that God, in His infinite mercy and love for us, invites us to deeper and deeper awareness. Awareness is the first step to deeper healing. And there is something about a season of suffering—of loss, of desert, of hunger—that makes the beauty, the goodness, the truth, the Lord, that much more evident.
As I turned this over in my mind, I felt the Lord inviting me even deeper here. He tied it back to the theme of hunger and the hunger Jesus felt in the desert. I heard Him again:
Hunger clarifies nourishment.
Many times, awareness stings. It can be difficult to see with clear eyes the places we are weak, the places we want to run or hide, rather than lean in with complete confidence in the Lord. When we are desperately hungry, the thought of good, nourishing food, can initially hurt. It can feel too far off, too out of reach. We may even be tempted to settle for the junk food that we can more easily grab right off the shelf.
But incredibly, after awareness gradually comes acceptance, and then, eventually, by His grace: transformation, redemption, resurrection. Healing and lasting change. A new future. Miraculously, these places of fear, panic, hopelessness, or doubt, can be turned into places of deep faith, confidence, trust, gratitude, and joy—rooted in the infinite and never-changing goodness of God.
Because, as we can only do by living through the crucifixions in our own hearts and lives, we can more fully experience in an ever-deeper and more real way, the Resurrection.
This Lent, I wonder if, like to me, He’s extending an invitation to you for ever-deeper awareness. I wonder if He’s inviting you into this desert for awhile, so that you can better be able to see the beauty. To hear His voice. More clearly. More distinctly.
To begin to crack open the door to new graces, new paths of healing, a new spring of life.
“Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.
The wild animals honor me,
the jackals and the owls,
because I provide water in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland,
to give drink to my people, my chosen,
the people I formed for myself
that they may proclaim my praise.”
Isaiah 43:18-21
“Therefore, whoever is in Christ is a new creation.
The old has gone, behold new things have come.”
2 Corinthians 5:17-18
Today’s devotion was written by Rachel Smith
