We don’t usually wake up planning to distrust God.

We wake up wanting coffee. Stability. A calm news cycle…for once. We want our aches to behave and our retirement accounts to hold steady. We want things to feel secure.

That’s how it begins in Genesis. Not with open rebellion. With a question.

“Did God really say…?”

The serpent’s strategy in Genesis 3 wasn’t to introduce evil out of nowhere. It was to introduce doubt. To whisper that God might be holding out. That maybe humankind would be better off taking control ourselves.

And they reached.

It wasn’t just about fruit. It was about trust.

And here’s where this speaks to us in modern America: the same whisper is shaping our politics, our churches, and the way we see other people.

The Fracture That Still Runs Through Us

Paul says in Romans 5 that sin entered through one man, and death through sin. Adam becomes a representative of humanity. When he mistrusts God, the fracture runs through all of us.

We see it everywhere.

We don’t trust institutions.
We don’t trust the government.
We don’t trust media.
We don’t trust each other.

And if we’re honest, many Christians don’t even trust that loving our neighbor is enough anymore.

So we grasp.

We grasp for security.
We grasp for control.
We grasp for power.

And in the process, we start seeing people differently.

Not as image-bearers of God.

But as threats.

American Culture: People as Problems

In our culture, people are categories.

Red or blue.
Legal or illegal.
Traditional or progressive.
Christian or “other.”

Social media trains us to reduce human beings to headlines. Cable news trains us to see neighbors as enemies. Politicians fundraise off of our fear.

Outrage is profitable.

And the American church has not been immune.

Instead of being shaped by the cross, too often we are shaped by cable news talking points. Instead of asking, “What would Jesus do in this situation?” we ask, “What does my side say about this?”

And then we baptize it.

We justify cruelty in the name of law and order.
We excuse indifference in the name of personal responsibility.
We defend harsh rhetoric in the name of “speaking truth.”

But the Garden story tells us something different: when we stop trusting God’s goodness, we start protecting ourselves at the expense of others.

Adam and Eve eat the fruit. And what’s the first result?

Shame.
Blame.
Hiding.

They immediately turn on each other.

That’s what mistrust does.

Jesus in the Wilderness: A Different Way

In Matthew 4, Jesus goes into the wilderness. Not by accident. The Spirit leads Him there.

He is hungry. Alone. Vulnerable.

And the same strategy shows up.

“If you are the Son of God…”

It’s the Garden whisper all over again.
Prove yourself.
Secure yourself.
Take control.

The temptations are about security, recognition, and power.

Turn stones to bread.
Throw yourself down and get rescued.
Take the kingdoms without the cross.

Each temptation offers a shortcut.

And every shortcut bypasses trust.

Jesus refuses.

He refuses to use power for self-protection.
He refuses to manipulate God for spectacle.
He refuses to dominate the world without suffering for it.

This matters.

Because the church in America has become far more comfortable with domination than with suffering love.

We like power. We like influence. We like winning.

But Jesus chose worship over control. Obedience over spectacle. The cross over coercion.

That should challenge us.

How We See People Reveals Who We Trust

Here’s the harsh reality.

When we are driven by fear, we stop seeing people as souls and start seeing them as obstacles.

When security becomes ultimate, compassion shrinks.
When political victory becomes ultimate, truth gets distorted.
When cultural control becomes ultimate, love gets conditional.

You can see this in how we talk.

We talk about immigrants as numbers instead of families.
We talk about the poor as burdens instead of neighbors.
We talk about political opponents as existential threats instead of fellow humans.

And yes, this happens on both sides of the aisle. But let’s be honest: many churches have tied themselves so closely to political identity that it’s hard to tell where the Gospel ends and a party platform begins.

The early Christians in the Roman Empire had no political leverage. They had no Supreme Court. No voting bloc. No cable network.

What they had was a crucified Messiah who taught them to love enemies, forgive persecutors, and care for the poor.

And that was enough to turn the world upside down.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that wasn’t enough anymore.

Living East of Eden

Genesis says Adam and Eve were sent out of the Garden.

Humanity lives east of Eden.

And America feels like that sometimes.

We are prosperous but anxious. Connected but lonely. Loud but not listening.

Even in church, many of us are tired. Smaller congregations. Cultural shifts. A sense that things aren’t like they used to be.

And the temptation is to grasp harder.

To cling to control.
To fight louder.
To double down.

But the wilderness teaches something different.

The wilderness strips away illusions.

It reveals what we really trust.

Jesus trusted the Father’s goodness even when He was hungry. Even when He was vulnerable. Even when power was offered without pain.

That is radically different from how American culture operates.

The Church at a Crossroads

The American church right now faces a choice.

We can chase cultural dominance.

Or we can embody cruciform love.

We can measure success by influence.

Or we can measure faithfulness by obedience.

We can see people primarily as voters, threats, and culture-war opponents.

Or we can see them as people Jesus would die for.

You cannot follow a Savior who refused political shortcuts and simultaneously justify any means necessary to “win.”

That tension is real.

And Lent is a good time to name it.

A More Honest Question

Maybe the real question for us this season isn’t, “What are you giving up for Lent?”

Maybe it’s this:

Where are you holding onto?

Where are you reaching for control because you don’t fully trust that God’s way is enough?

Is it in how you talk about people who disagree with you?
Is it in how you consume news?
Is it in how quickly you assume the worst about someone on the other side of an issue?

The serpent’s whisper still sounds sophisticated today.

“Did God really say love your enemies?”
“Did God really mean welcome the stranger?”
“Did God really expect you to forgive like that?”

We nod at those verses in church.

But in real life, they feel impractical.

Risky.

Naïve.

That’s exactly how trust gets eroded.

The Way Back

Romans 5 says that just as one trespass led to condemnation, one act of righteousness leads to life.

Where Adam grasped, Jesus surrendered.

Where humanity distrusted, Jesus trusted.

Where we seek power, Jesus chose the cross.

The answer to our cultural moment is not louder outrage from Christians.

It’s deeper trust.

Trust that loving enemies is not weakness.
Trust that truth doesn’t need cruelty to survive.
Trust that faithfulness matters more than political dominance.

And trust that every single person you encounter — conservative, progressive, immigrant, skeptic, believer, neighbor — carries the image of God.

If we actually believed that, it would reshape everything.

How we vote.
How we post.
How we argue.
How we forgive.
How we serve.

The wilderness is not a punishment.

It is a place where trust is clarified.

Maybe the instability we feel in our country and our churches is an invitation.

An invitation to let go of control.
An invitation to see people as people again.
An invitation to trust that God’s way — the way of humility, sacrifice, and love — still leads to resurrection.

The Garden began with a question about God’s goodness.

The wilderness answers it.

God can be trusted.

The cross proves it.

The empty tomb confirms it.

The real question is whether we will live like we believe it.

Reflection Question

Where in your life have you started seeing people as problems to manage or opponents to defeat instead of image-bearers to love — and what would it look like to trust Jesus enough to treat them differently this week?

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus,

You refused the shortcuts.
You refused to grasp for power.
You chose trust, humility, and love — even when it led to the cross.

Forgive us for the ways fear shapes how we see people.
Forgive us for the times we’ve valued being right more than being loving.
Forgive us when politics, anger, or insecurity have distorted our witness.

Teach us to trust the Father the way You did.
Teach us to see others the way You see them.
Give us courage to live differently in a culture driven by fear and control.

Lead us through this wilderness.
Form in us a deeper trust.
Make us people of resurrection love.

Amen.