Temptation is a hard nut to crack. But temptation is where Jesus began his journey toward the cross. With temptation all around, he had to get on the other side of the cross before he could enjoy that wondrous gift we call resurrection.

So perhaps that should alert us that temptation is always going to our greatest enemy too.  It may be the single greatest impediment to the resurrected life that we are taught to hope for.

And here we speak of resurrection in the way that Jesus did – as a state of wholeness that is not granted to us for goodness’ sake, but is perhaps more to be imagined as a mysterious and ever-flowing current which we may immerse ourselves.

But temptation is no fool. Temptation is endlessly creative. The more we resist temptation, the more persistent temptation becomes. You cannot dismiss temptation by appealing to mind over matter. Temptation may exist in our minds, but it is still a beast with a life of its own.

And an unfair advantage that temptation has, is that it’s invested in tangible, and presumably, achievable things. Whereas resurrection is not grounded in anything we can possess or achieve.

So any attempt to commodify resurrection is an exercise in frustration, and amounts to giving in to temptation. And we’re right back where we began with temptation in charge.

All this is a way to frame the temptation before us today. It is that we tend to indulge in an authoritarian reading of the scripture rather than to seek God’s authority in our lives. There is a substantial difference between the two. One puts us in the judgment seat. The other brings us before God.

Take Isaiah. We hear God’s voice, live-streamed through the prophet. Temptation whispers to us that it is our duty to assess who it is that God is calling out for their sins.

And so we judge that it’s those poor benighted souls thirsting, hungering for God. The spiritually bankrupt. Those lacking proper nutrition to support their spiritual bodies. We know them. We pity them.

Ah, God is so good to call them and offer them the covenant! As God made a covenant with blessed, honorable David! Whole nations will be saved to join our ranks. God will glorify them too.

Then the voice of Isaiah chimes in. Seek the Lord in the imminent here and now. Let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts…let them return to the Lord that [he] may abundantly pardon and have mercy on them.

Two words suggest that Isaiah’s audience overreached the limits of human authority.  Isaiah says, Let them…  God shows kindness and compassion to all. But the ones to whom Isaiah is speaking – the religious folk, are not letting anyone else receive what God offers.

It comes down to this: is God the authority on forgiveness, or are we? Who is to judge? Can God offer compassion and mercy in measures that go far beyond our approval? Yes or no? And if we do not approve, who really stands judged here?

Isaiah seems pretty clear on this point. Sin happens. God gets over it. But humans, not so much.

We cannot resist the temptation to authorize God’s judgments. And to make sure we’ve really got this, Isaiah does a God voice-over. For my thoughts are not your thoughts and my ways are not your ways…they are higher.

If we’ve properly understood this lesson in Isaiah, then perhaps we will be able to resist the temptation that is in the reading from 1 Corinthians. Paul is taking his own community to task for something. It’s not damnation for specified acts of immorality as some would judge however.

This is a letter about being covenant-keeping people. About how even when you’ve lived under God’s mighty cloud of presence, and God has delivered you, and sustained you, sin still happens. And sin is deadly.

Paul, ever the earnest shepherd of God’s flock, was worried about the dangers of Corinthian life. His list is not comprehensive, but is generally about breaking God’s commandments. Going to pagan temples to worship is idolatry. Engaging with prostitutes is adultery.

We’re tempted to codify both the list and our interpretation of it into judgement on others. Instead it is an invitation for the community of faith to consider our own standing before God in covenant-keeping. In all likelihood, we’ve already failed the test.

Because, deliver us from temptation, we are probably judging someone else even now. But, said Paul, God has given you the way out of this sin. And specifically, that way is your community of forbearance and forgiveness grounded in the love of Jesus Christ.

Oh right. Jesus. That guy. The one whom, when people wondered if tragic death was divine punishment, said it absolutely was not. Death happens. Don’t overthink it. They followed Jesus, but they didn’t get the memo on presuming to know God’s judgment. It was just such a temptation to presume that the tragedy was somehow deserved. Um. Like Jesus on the cross?

Jesus went on to say that the real tragedy was that those people died without getting a second chance. To get things resolved. Because while there’s life, there’s hope. The Roman philosopher and inspirational speaker Marcus Tullius Cicero said that about a hundred years before Jesus.

But using his own inspirational method Jesus told a little parable about an unbearable fig tree. Because second chances are God’s calling card of choice in all sorts of situations. Feel free to check out Jesus’s record on this if you like.

Probably pretty much anyone who’s ever had a close encounter with Jesus would say that it’s a moment of God’s just judgment and deliverance from the poverty and meanness of their own authority. After which their senses were opened up to a positively irresistible current flowing around and through them. Which in the greater context can only be called resurrection.