"...fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2 (NIV)
Temptation rarely kicks down the door. More often, it whispers through the keyhole — sly, familiar, tailored to the shape of our longings. Whether it comes by storm or by shadow, its aim is the same: to pull us just far enough off course that we exchange comfort for peace, indulgence for grace.
Consider two accounts. One unfolds in the wilderness of Judea (Matthew 4:1-11), where the Son of God, worn thin from forty days of fasting and prayer, meets the ancient voice of cunning and deceit. The other takes shape in the pages of C. S. Lewis’s novel The Screwtape Letters, where a senior demon in hell advises a junior tempter on the art of leading an unsuspecting human toward damnation. One is a literary masterpiece. The other is the very Word of God. Yet both explore the same ground: temptation flourishes under a dark cloud of deception but withers under the bright light of truth.
In Lewis’s fictional correspondence, Screwtape insists that damnation is achieved best through inches, not leaps. He writes, “The safest road to Hell is the gradual one — the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.” Meanwhile, in the desert, Satan tempts Jesus not with overt evil but by making a lesser good the greater good— prioritizing the needs of the body over the soul, self over God, a crown without the cross.
In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus stands at the far edge of physical exhaustion — emptied, exposed, alone after forty days in the wilderness. The tempter seeks to exploit that vulnerability. Turn stones to bread means use God’s power to satisfy yourself; throw yourself down means manipulate God to serve your purposes; bow down and be rewarded means exchange eternal glory for a corrupt, earthly kingdom. Each test strikes at something elemental: physical need, recognition, and power. But Jesus responds to each from a deep well of Scripture and prayer.
Screwtape’s counsel reflects a similar strategy in a more contemporary, subtle tone:
“Like all young tempters, you are anxious to report spectacular wickedness. But do remember, Wormwood, the only thing that matters is the extent to which you separate the man from the Enemy. It does not matter how small the sin, so long as the cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light. Murder is no better than cards, if cards can do the trick.”
Temptation rarely shouts; it whispers. It doesn't often confront us with glaring evil but seduces us with subtle compromises — a shortcut here, a small concession there. Like a fog, it envelops quietly, obscuring our vision and dulling our resolve. It's not the dramatic fall that leads us astray, but the gradual drift — the slow erosion of purpose, the softening of conviction, the habitual turning away from the light.
By contrast, Jesus shows us that prayer and long absorption in Scripture offer the strength to resist.
In The Screwtape Letters, the Patient — after many fits and starts — resists all of Screwtape’s attempts to ruin him, much to Screwtape’s great frustration. This process of resisting temptation is spelled out by Lewis in Mere Christianity:
“Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself.”
Our choices matter. We make hundreds of them every day. In each, we are either bending toward the Light or drifting away from it.
Let's pray:
Father, help us remember that beneath and around all of this is grace — your unwavering presence, the enduring strength of your Word, and the quiet power of communion with you. In a world full of Screwtapes and Wormwoods, we are not left to navigate alone, God. Remind us that we can stand firm and walk forward — not perfectly, but faithfully — with your truth guiding us, your presence sustaining us, and our eyes fixed on you, “the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2). Amen.
Photo Credit: ©SWN
Related Resource: Soft Words for Hard Days: A Conversation with Aundi Kolber
Some days feel heavy. Some moments leave us wondering how to keep going. If you’ve ever longed for encouragement amid life’s hardest moments, I have a special episode of The Love Offering for you. This week, I’m joined by therapist and bestselling author Aundi Kolber to discuss her latest book, Take What You Need: Soft Words for Hard Days. This beautiful collection of quotes, scriptures, prayers, and gentle exercises is designed to be a balm for your most tender places—a reminder that you are never alone on your journey to healing.
In our conversation, we explore:
✨ How to hold space for yourself and others in difficult seasons
✨ The power of compassionate words when life feels overwhelming
✨ Practical ways to embrace healing and take one more step forward
If you like what you hear, be sure to subscribe to The Love Offering on Apple or Spotify so you never miss an episode!
Originally published Wednesday, 18 June 2025.
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