When it comes to resisting temptations to sin, there’s no one-size-fits-all strategy. Temptations arrive in many ways at many times, and the Bible gives many different strategies to defeat them.

But we can notice one fundamental similarity in all the temptations we face, a dimension that’s always present in satanic deception. Remembering this similarity will help us in the fight, whatever resistance strategy we implement.

To help us see this unifying theme in temptation, let’s examine history’s most remarkable example — the devil’s temptation of Jesus. This scene illustrates Satan’s core strategy, how Jesus kept his head clear, and how we can imitate Jesus’s example.

Anatomy of Temptation

Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record Jesus being tempted by the devil at the beginning of his ministry, but Matthew’s account provides the most details. He describes three specific temptations and Jesus’s response to each (Matthew 4:1–11).

Theologians down through history have pointed out that there’s a lot going in this particular temptation from historical and theological standpoints, but I’m not going to address those topics here. Instead, my goal is simply to identify a specific dimension common in all of Satan’s temptations.

Dialogue with the Devil

To begin, after Jesus fasts for forty days, the devil seeks to take advantage of his physical weakness and severe hunger.

Devil: “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” (verse 3)

Jesus: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” (verse 4, quoting Deuteronomy 8:3)

Then, from the pinnacle of the temple, the devil seeks to take advantage of Jesus’s faith in a scriptural promise.

Devil: “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’” (verse 6, quoting Psalm 91:11–12)

Jesus: “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’” (verse 7, quoting Deuteronomy 6:16)

Finally, after showing Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world and their glory” (verse 8), the devil seeks to take advantage of Jesus’s promised exaltation.

Devil: “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” (verse 9)

Jesus: “Be gone, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.’” (verse 10, quoting from Deuteronomy 6:16)

Three Essential Elements

Notice that the three temptations have three elements in common.

First, the devil sought to narrow Jesus’s focus specifically on each tempting proposition, so that Jesus would view each in a distorted context and therefore experience them as disproportionately compelling. More on this in a moment.

Second, each temptation promises both explicit and implicit rewards. I will paraphrase some that I discern, as if spoken by the tempter:

Bread: Jesus, if you miraculously create bread, it will relieve your starving agony and, more importantly, validate your claim to divinity.
Jump: If you demonstrate the truth of this audacious promise in the sight of all those witnesses down there, you will glorify both the trustworthiness of God’s word and the trustworthiness of your claim as God’s Son.
Worship: Since it is in my power, if you will bow to me, I will make sure that every knee will bow and every tongue will confess your lordship.

Third, each tempting proposition makes implicit threats. Again, I’ll paraphrase some that I discern:

Bread: If you’re unwilling to miraculously create bread, doesn’t it indicate your inability to do so? You’re no Moses, much less the Prophet, much less the Son of God. You’re just another self-deluded “messiah” — and you know what happens to frauds.
Jump: If you’re unwilling to demonstrate the truth of these promises, doesn’t it indicate that you don’t really believe them? You’re no Son of God. You’re just like every other hypocritical rabbi: teach, teach, teach, but you won’t risk your life to prove God’s word is true — and you know what happens to hypocrites.
Worship: The road you’re on is more than risky; it’s doomed. If you don’t bow to me, you will die. And I will make sure it is unspeakably horrible.

Satan’s Core Strategy

This dissection of Jesus’s temptation experience helps us examine not only the devil’s specific strategy with Jesus, but the core strategy he employs in every temptation.

“Jesus was not ignorant of the universal diabolical dimension of temptation: to disorient, distort, and deceive.”

What was the devil trying to do? Essentially, he was seeking to do with Jesus what he did with Adam and Eve and what he does with each of us: disorient Jesus’s perception of reality, so he could distort Jesus’s perception of reality and deceive Jesus into believing a false story about reality.

See if this doesn’t sound familiar. Satan comes when Jesus is in a weakened state — we humans are more easily disoriented when we’re physically, emotionally, psychologically weak. Think about how differently you’re prone to respond to various pressures when you’re weak, rather than when you’re strong and refreshed.

Then he poses to Jesus propositions that put a distorted twist on truth. The devil wove plenty of truth into his presentation of a false reality. Was it inherently sinful for Jesus to desire to satisfy his hunger? No. Was it inherently sinful for Jesus to demonstrate his sonship through miraculously making bread? No — he did this very thing later when he fed the five thousand (Matthew 14:13–21). Was it inherently sinful for Jesus to put his faith in a specific promise of Scripture? No. Was it inherently sinful for Jesus (in particular) to long to be highly exalted and for every knee to bow and tongue to confess his lordship? No (see Philippians 2:9–11).

All of these, given the right context, were good and righteous. What made the devil’s propositions evil was their distorted context. And I think it required more resolve from Jesus’s human nature to resist than we might at first assume.

Jesus Resists

But resist he did. How? One way to describe it is that he skillfully used the armor of God against the schemes of the devil (Ephesians 6:11). In Jesus’s responses, we see him lifting the “shield of faith” and wielding the “sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:16–17).

Another way to describe it is that Jesus was “not ignorant of [Satan’s] designs” and therefore refused to be “outwitted” by him (2 Corinthians 2:11). Jesus was not ignorant of the universal diabolical dimension of temptation: to disorient, distort, and deceive. So he had his antennae up; he was anticipating it. And when it came, he expected it to sound appealing and appear life-giving, when in reality “its end is the way the death” (Proverbs 14:12).

“The devil tempted Jesus to see himself in a different story.”

The devil tempted Jesus to see himself in a different story, one he implied would be better if Jesus took matters into his own hands. Jesus discerned the insidious temptations by remembering the Real Story he was in, which is what his Scripture quotes reveal. He had come to undo the curse of the fall — the catastrophic result of the first Adam believing a perverted story — by doing only what he saw his Father doing (John 5:19).

Remember the Story You’re In

That is the crucial application point I want to draw from Jesus’s temptation: remember the story you’re in. All of us tend to respond to tempting desires or fears based on the narrative of reality we believe (or want to believe) at the moment. What will lead to more joy or less misery, according to the story we’re believing? If we allow ourselves to be disoriented and sold a distorted bill of goods, and if we then take the bait of a deceptively appealing false story, we will be “lured and enticed by [our] own desire,” which when “conceived gives birth to sin, and sin . . . [eventually] brings forth death” (James 1:14–15).

Many different strategies for fighting different kinds of temptations exist. But all of them require that we not be outwitted by Satan due to ignorance of his designs to disorient, distort, and deceive. God calls us, like Jesus, to “be sober-minded [and] watchful,” since our “adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). So, like Jesus, we anticipate what temptation will be like, and when it arrives we resist the devil by first remembering the story we’re in.

Audio Transcript

Happy Memorial Day today for those of you here in the States. Last time, we looked at the sanctifying power of Christ on the cross. That was episode 2048. In our Bible reading together, we’ve been reading Mark 15 recently, about the death of Christ. It’s been a theme for us. And today we return to the cross by doing something different, Pastor John. I want you to respond to a viral video clip going around from a pretty well-known actor named Shia LaBeouf. He’s 37. He was converted to Roman Catholicism in recent years. He starred in the 2022 film Padre Pio, a movie named after a Catholic priest, mystic, and so-called venerated saint. Not long ago, in an interview, the actor was discussing the connection between Christ’s suffering and joy, and it generated some emails for you, all asking for your response.

Before we get to what he said, let me footnote a few caveats. It should be first said that the New Testament never speaks of individuals as saints. That’s a Catholic myth. Saints is a corporate title for all Christians. And I’m unsure if this actor understands the gospel, that Christ paid for the guilt of our sin by satisfying the wrath of God. He tends to speak of the cross as more of a moral model — Christ died mainly as an example for us. And he’s obviously very comfortable with images of Christ — crucifixes and paintings. Those are several factors I want to acknowledge at the front end of this episode and set aside for now. I don’t want to get into any of those.

As Shia spoke, my mind went to Hebrews 12:2 — a text you’ve brought up in 25 episodes on the podcast over the years, Pastor John, so I can see why listeners want you to weigh in and respond to what was said. I’ll read what he said and then ask you, on behalf of those listeners who emailed, What does this actor get right and what does he get wrong about the joy of Christ on the cross? Here’s what he said.

When I look at Christ on the cross, I think, hmm, is that a joyful man as he bleeds out and dies on a cross for humanity? Is that man joyful? And I think the answer is yes, that even in his suffering — that’s what Christ represents for me: meaningful suffering. The story of Christ is that God became man for our betterment. So, that means that he is the ultimate example, the supreme priest, the ultimate redeemer. If I look at Christ on the cross, I think, That’s very instructive. You don’t see a lot of smiley-face Christs on the cross. You don’t see Christ on the cross dying and laughing with aplomb — in joy, in ultimate joy. But I think they should make some Christs on the cross in ultimate serenity and ultimate joy. They always make this sad face. And that seems stupid. It seems like it’s not deep enough, like the artists who manufacture those crucifixes — it’s almost like they’re not seeing the full story. And the full story, I believe, is that Christ is in maximum joy in that moment. He is fully in his purpose. If you can tap into how you can use your suffering to help other people, that is maximum joy.

What strikes you?

What strikes me first is that I’m not sure what he means by joy and what he means by suffering even. It’s hard to respond with a clear yes or no to what he’s saying when he seems to switch categories on me. I’ll try to point out what I mean by this ambiguity by suggesting several positive responses. So, I’ll try to be positive before I’m negative.

Christ’s Purposeful Suffering

For example, he uses the phrase “meaningful suffering,” and I can’t escape the impression that he might mean that this phrase “meaningful suffering” is synonymous with “joyful suffering.” He says, “Is that man on the cross joyful? And I think the answer is yes, that even in his suffering — that’s what Christ represents for me: meaningful suffering.” So, he switches. He switches from joyful to meaningful, which is what throws me.

“What sustained Jesus was a confidently expected future experience of joy.”

Well, Christ’s suffering certainly was meaningful, right? Everybody would agree with that. Oh my goodness! His suffering carried more meaning in it than all the suffering of all the human beings in the world combined, because it carried in it the salvation of millions of people that nobody else’s suffering could do. So, that’s absolutely right: the suffering of Christ was not meaningless; it was infinitely meaningful. And if that’s what he means by joyful, it’s hard to disagree.

I see at least two other things that are positive. He says that Christ, at that moment of suffering, “is fully in his purpose.” That’s almost the same as saying that the suffering was meaningful — that is, it was fully purposeful. He was not being frustrated at that moment in his designs. He was accomplishing exactly what he came to do. Indeed, it is a satisfying thing to accomplish what you were designed to do. We all would agree with that. I’m doing what I was made to do. I’m doing what I came to do.

Then he applies that to us, and he says, “If you can tap into how you can use your suffering to help other people, that is maximum joy.” Well, the true part of that is that Jesus did say, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). Living to make others glad in God is certainly a glad way of living, even through suffering.

When Is Maximum Joy?

But the question I have at this point is whether the moment of suffering is the moment of maximum joy. That’s my question. One biblical obstacle to thinking that way is Hebrews 12:2, which says, “Jesus . . . for the joy that was set before him endured the cross.” Notice that it does not locate the pinnacle of Jesus’s joy at the point of the cross, but on the other side of the cross. At the cross, the joy “was set before him.”

To be sure, Hebrews 11:1 teaches that, by faith, the substance of things hoped for — the substance of that future joy — can be tasted now. Yes, it can and is, even in our suffering. But that does not change the fact that the text says that what sustained Jesus was a confidently expected future experience of joy, whatever partial measure of it he might have tasted on the cross.

Another biblical factor that we have to, I think, take into account is that there are different kinds of experiences of joy and different degrees of joy, and not just because of sin. I don’t think joy goes up and down only because sin enters in. For example, in Luke 15:7 we are told that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine who don’t need repentance. So, there’s very great joy in heaven, and there’s great joy in heaven — more joy and less more. And it’s not because there’s sin in heaven. There is no sin in heaven; that’s not what causes the difference.

So, it’s fair to say, isn’t it, that the sinless Christ may have tasted a kind of joy and a degree of joy as he suffered on the cross, but that there was a much fuller joy of a different kind even yet to be experienced beyond the cross.

It seems to me that Shia LaBeouf may be saying too much when he writes that some crucifixes should depict “ultimate serenity and ultimate joy.” I think any ordinary use of the word serenity would simply not fit the hours of Jesus’s horrific suffering. I just don’t think serenity is what you would see, nor should you explain it with that word. I think that would diminish the reality of his agony. I think to use the word ultimate to describe his joy is probably a failure to take into account that there will be more joy on the other side of death and resurrection and ascension.

Maintaining Mystery

Another biblical problem I have is that I think there’s probably a greater mystery at the moment of propitiation on the cross than he realizes. When Jesus says, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” that is the cry of the damned (Matthew 27:46). He is at that moment experiencing the outpouring of the wrath of God upon the sin of all his people. And I say it is a mystery because I don’t think we can give a sufficient account for how he can experience that damnation and joy simultaneously — at least, I don’t feel competent to rise to that level of sufficient explanation of what happened in that moment in the heart and mind of our Lord Jesus.

I’m not saying it’s impossible; I’m saying we need to tread very carefully here so as to give full measure to Christ’s mental and spiritual agony under the Father’s displeasure, even as we try to give proper measure to the fact that in himself Jesus had a clear conscience, and he was doing the absolutely right thing. It was meaningful; it was purposeful; it was the loving thing to do.

Maybe I should say one more thing before we stop our reflections. The mystery of Christ’s experience — indeed, the Father’s experience as Christ died on the cross — is expressed, I think, in Ephesians 5:2 in another way. Paul says, “Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” A fragrant offering? Fragrant? Sweet smelling? Pleasing smelling? I take that to mean that God the Father was able, in some mysterious way, to pour out wrath on his beloved Son and know at the same time with approval that this sacrifice was beautiful, fragrant, pleasing, righteous, glorious — achieving everything that the two of them had designed and intended.

So, in summary, what I’m pleading for is a careful expression of the reality of Jesus’s suffering, the reality of being damned and forsaken, the reality of knowing that more joy lay ahead — all of that to temper any effort to describe the Lord’s experience on the cross as “ultimate joy.”

The road to the pastorate is filled with men who had hoped to arrive a long time ago. Many years have passed since they first felt the seed of a desire to shepherd Christ’s church. But for any number of reasons — life circumstances, personal immaturity, the need for training — no church has called them as shepherd. Not yet.

I think of one friend whose aspiration has quietly burned for over a decade. I think of another man, barely out of his teens, who recently started pursuing the pastorate and likely has years ahead of him. I think of my former self, traveling that road through my entire twenties. Such men may feel ambitions as big as Paul’s — but then remember, with a sigh, that they are not even a Timothy yet.

What can a man do on that road, especially when he can’t see the end of it? Well, quite a lot. Bobby Jamieson offers a couple of dozen ideas in his helpful book The Path to Being a Pastor. My colleague Marshall Segal boils those down to seven worthy ambitions. But lately my mind has been focused on a passage from Paul to Timothy. Timothy was already a pastor at the time of Paul’s writing, but he was a young pastor, not far removed from the road of aspiring men. And Paul’s counsel applies wonderfully to those preparing to join him.

“Do we enjoy Jesus before we preach him, and preach him because we enjoy him?”

We might capture the heart of Paul’s burden in 1 Timothy 4:6–16 with the words of verse 15: “Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress.” Let them see your progress, Timothy. Don’t grow discouraged. Don’t remain stuck. Instead, by God’s grace, gain ground. Hone your character. Develop your competency. Become more godly, more fruitful, more zealous, more skilled. Make progress — the kind of progress that others can see.

To that end, consider a two-part plan: Train privately. Practice publicly.

Train Privately

Most of Paul’s commands in 1 Timothy 4:6–16 focus on Timothy’s public ministry. “Command and teach” (verse 11); “set the believers an example” (verse 12); “devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching” (verse 13); and so on. At the same time, Paul knew just how easily public ministry could outpace private piety. He knew how tempting it could be to “keep a close watch on . . . the teaching” without keeping a close watch “on yourself” (verse 16).

It is frightfully possible to preach in public what you disobey in private. It is sadly common for men, even pastors-in-training, to lose delight in God’s word, and neglect the prayer closet. So, behind, before, and alongside Timothy’s public ministry, Paul says, “Train yourself for godliness” (verse 7). Explain publicly what you have experienced privately. Let all your teaching be plucked from the orchard of your soul. Remember that all God-pleasing progress in public flows from God-centered progress in private.

Enjoy His Words

“Train yourself for godliness”: the command takes us into an athletic spirituality, a pursuit of Christ that doesn’t mind the uphill climb, that relishes some sweat, that is willing to beat disobedient feelings into submission. Give yourself, Timothy, to the long, gradual, difficult, joyful process of becoming more like Jesus — or what some Puritans called “the great business of godliness” (The Genius of Puritanism, 12).

Such training may take many forms, but Paul leaves no doubt about the central content of Timothy’s regimen: he would progress in godliness by “being trained in the words of the faith” (1 Timothy 4:6). Reject “deceitful spirits and teachings of demons” (verse 1); sidestep “irreverent, silly myths” (verse 7). Instead, give yourself to God’s word.

If there is a secret to public progress, surely it lies in private soul-dealings with the God who speaks. I for one have felt chastened lately by Andrew Bonar’s description of the young Robert Murray M’Cheyne, who would often ride outside town “to enjoy an hour’s perfect solitude; for he felt meditation and prayer to be the very sinews of his work” (Memoir and Remains of Robert Murray M’Cheyne, 56). Meditation and prayer are the sinews of ministry. Without them, we may have the muscle of charisma and the bones of orthodoxy, but the body hangs loose and weak; we stagger rather than run.

In one way or another, the depth of our private dealings with God will become evident in public. Our faces will shine like Moses’s — or they won’t. Our spontaneous speech and conduct will “set . . . an example” (verse 12) — or it won’t. We will hand others the ripe fruit of our own meditations — or we will deal in plastic apples and pears.

As aspiring leaders, we know God’s word forms the soul and substance of our public ministry. But over time, has our private life come to betray that conviction? Do we still read God’s word with anything like athletic obsession? Do we enjoy Jesus before we preach him, and preach him because we enjoy him? Do we treat meditation and prayer as the indispensable sinews of ministry?

Examine Your Soul

As Timothy devotes himself to “the words of the faith,” Paul calls him to turn his attention inward as well. “Keep a close watch on yourself,” he writes (1 Timothy 4:16). Timothy was an overseer of souls, but the first soul he needed to oversee was his own.

“The gifts of God are not only given, but cultivated; not only bestowed, but honed.”

Paul had spoken such words to pastors before. “Pay careful attention to yourselves,” he told the elders in Ephesus (Acts 20:28). And he had good reason to warn: “From among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things” (Acts 20:30). Pastor or not, if a man does not keep a close watch on himself, he will lose himself. He will not only fail to progress; he will regress, sometimes beyond hope. And Timothy was no exception.

So, Paul says, keep a close watch. Regularly tour the city of your heart to see if any enemies have breached the gate and now threaten the throne. Stand sentinel in your soul; know the weak spots on the walls, and study the enemies you are likely to face. Pray and then patiently review in God’s presence your speech, conduct, love, faith, purity (1 Timothy 4:12). As you read God’s word, ask him to search you and save you, to reveal you and rescue you (Psalm 139:23–24). “Lord, discipline me, correct me, expose me, confront me — and whatever it takes, keep me from destroying myself.”

True, we do not make much progress in godliness by looking inward. But we may notice the enemies that keep us from progress — enemies that, unmortified, would ruin all our progress up till now.

Practice Publicly

If private progress relates mostly to our character, public progress relates mostly to our competence. And in our passage, Paul cares about Timothy’s competence a lot. When he writes, “Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress” (1 Timothy 4:15), “these things” refers mainly to “the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching” (verse 13). Timothy was already “able to teach” (1 Timothy 3:2), but Paul wanted him to become more able, to increasingly look like “a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15).

Paul recognized in Timothy a pastoral gift (1 Timothy 4:14). But Timothy’s gift was not a static endowment: he could “neglect the gift” he had, or he could “practice” and improve it (verses 14–15). For the gifts of God are not only given, but cultivated; not only bestowed, but honed. And here men like us find hope. However gifted we may feel (or not), we are not at the mercy of our present attainments. We can handle God’s word with more care. We can apply it with more power. We can develop a greater readiness “in season and out of season” (2 Timothy 4:2). That is, as long as we practice.

Embrace Unspectacular Opportunities

Few men receive a ready-made gift of teaching, a gift with no assembly required. God’s kingdom has its occasional Spurgeons, of course, who preached better as a teenager than I ever will as an adult. But most of us become proficient only through repeated practice over years, and then most of us progress further only through more practice still. And if we’re going to practice as much as we ought — as much as Paul’s “immerse yourself” suggests (1 Timothy 4:15) — then we likely will need to embrace opportunities that seem pretty unspectacular.

We might, for example, lead a group of guys in middle-school ministry. We might pour more thought into family devotions. We might find a lonely, suffering saint, listen to his heart woes, and practice the complex art of pastoral counseling. We might gather a few men committed to exhorting and encouraging each other. We might spend time with the sermon passage before we hear it preached, developing our own ideas and applications, drafting our own outline. We might snatch up every realistic opportunity to open the Bible and say something about it.

Perhaps we feel tempted to despise these small, unspectacular opportunities. But small, unspectacular opportunities form, for most of us, the indispensable path toward progress. There is no progress without practice — and practice sometimes feels utterly ordinary.

Fail Well

Those who practice enough, of course, eventually discover an uncomfortable truth: with practice comes not only progress, but failure. Open your mouth often enough, and you’ll say something foolish. Exhort others enough, and you’ll damage a bruised reed. Counsel enough, and you’ll speak too soon or too late. Preach enough, and you’ll leave the pulpit disheartened.

In the aftermath of such moments, we may feel like practicing a little less; rather than immersing ourselves in ministry or devoting ourselves to teaching (1 Timothy 4:13, 15), we may feel like retreating to a safer place. We may want to dig a hole and bury our talents in the dirt of our failures.

Yet precisely in such moments, we need to hear Paul’s word to Timothy in verse 14: “Do not neglect the gift you have.” Yes, your effort ended in embarrassment, but do not neglect the gift you have. Yes, taking another public risk feels daunting, but do not neglect the gift you have. Yes, to fail again like that would feel shameful, but do not neglect the gift you have. In some cases, of course, repeated failure may suggest that we don’t actually have the gift we thought we did. In so many cases, however, the failure was just part of the practice.

So, hold your failures in open hands, and learn all you can from them. Remember “the words of the faith” that have been your private strength, your secret delight. Take courage that if “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15), he can certainly restore and use failures. And then get back in the pulpit, back before the small group, back on the streets, back wherever your ministry lies, and use the gift that God has given you.

And in time, all will see your progress.