It would be a mistake to think that events are linear in the scriptures. Instead, ancient themes are laid out, transported to new landscapes and peoples, remodeled, revised, and renewed. This is a repeating pattern, as holy and purposeful as the fractals of pine cones and sea snails.

We see the pattern in Deuteronomy. Israel is in the land of Canaan. Not for the first time, but again. Abraham, Sarah, and their large kinship-based household had entered the place first in time long before history. Then there was famine and retreat into Egypt in search of a better life.

Generations lived there without comfortably enough. It would seem that across years and with increasing distance from their ancestors’ memories they hardly remembered their God. Perhaps that spiritual amnesia along with changes in the political landscape under successive Pharaohs contributed to their eventual enslavement. But life became very hard for them in Egypt.

The people rose up under Moses, Miriam, and Aaron and spent forty years in wilderness retreat. It was a time of remembering and re-committing to God. Their way was marked by commandments, covenants, rebellions, times of bitterness and times of sweet relief. Arriving finally at the border they crossed again into the land, finally beginning to know themselves as God’s people again.

Deuteronomy offers a liturgy of return. When you enter the land give thanks. Recite the story of your arrival in true gratitude. Share the produce with God, with one another, and with your non-citizen neighbors. Do this always. Never forget God, and who you are together in God.

Here is a spiritual practice of remembrance and praise. It is not optional. Every time you leave home you pray on your return. Be always thankful and share generously. The pattern is good for your soul. And what is good for your soul is good for every part of creation.

Paul invokes scripture’s pattern in the letter to the Romans. The word of faith is the story of God’s being in Jesus, the gifts of his life of praise, his life freely given up, the restoration of his resurrection. Never forget it. Let it always be the story that comes out of your mouth. Let it be the story you tell with your life. By this you are saved.

Saved from what, exactly? Hell? Not really, as it happens. It’s not about being rescued from the torment of everlasting punishment. It’s about being delivered from forgetfulness, to have the memory of God restored in us, and with it our awareness of the blessing of our souls’ everlasting belonging and beloved-ness in God.

Living fearfully, graspingly, and without care is at cross purposes with God’s pattern. It leads to dishonor, and relationships that skew off center. Living generously, wondrously, and joyfully aligns with God. It leads to honor and well-aligned relationships both human and holy.

The story that Christians are meant to tell, is that of all who seek to lord it over us, we choose Jesus. The one who spent himself for everyone without exception. Who lived and loved fearlessly. Who knew God as the deep source of his being and beloved-ness. Who honored God with thanks and praise. This is the only kind of Lord we will follow.

Now, having chosen this story, then it is up to us to live by it. However imperfectly. When our hearts are invested in this pattern, then our lives reflect it. When we say publicly that Jesus is our pattern, then our confession of faith renders us accountable everyone who hears what we say.

And so we contrive to live our way into holy deliverance, thoughtful word by thoughtful word, gracious act by gracious act. Beheld in the eyes of neighbors. And held in the love of God.

As for Luke’s gospel today, when the tempter showed up, Jesus was at a low point. It happens. Running on an empty tank after weeks in desert conditions. Circumstances that would make any of us thirsty, hungry, and probably hangry too. When else would temptation arise, right?

But Jesus knew the pattern. It was not just in his mind, it was written on his heart. He summoned the strength of memory:

—Remembering God’s provision. Of greening garden and flowing clean water, fishnets filled and baskets of bread, wine pouring freely. Without price. Simply given. Nourishment for all to enjoy.

—The memory of God’s singular authority before the tempter began to whisper alternatives to the pattern, and to style itself the only real, true authority,

—The memory of the Temple community leaning into God’s promises to accompany the people in the worst of times. Trusting that God would be present everywhere and always to save, to deliver.

Nothing the tempter could offer came close to what Jesus already possessed. And so Jesus said no to the tempter. Once was not enough. Twice was not enough. Even a third time only made the tempter resolve to return at a later time. When Jesus might be a little more…suggestible.

But we know the end of the story. It was not in Jesus to forget God. He never lost his awareness of the blessing of his soul’s everlasting belonging and beloved-ness in God. This underlying pattern is indestructible. Not even death can interrupt it. And though transported to new landscapes, and new peoples, remodeled, revised, and renewed, it always delivers.