The Way of a Man Series | #126
1951 words
Matthew, Mark, and Luke recount Our Lord Jesus’ desert fast forty-day excursion into the desert wilderness.
We are told that after the duration of the fast, “Jesus was hungry.”
Understatement.
With tremendous lameness (if that is even a word), parishes across the world attempt to convey this “hunger” and Jesus’ “desert” experience with blankets of burlap folded elegantly beneath cactuses and thorns; a deprivation of holy water (which is a satanic deprivation of spiritual ammunition and defense against the enemy); and other palpable visuals connoting aridity, with the purpose of sparking a connection between Our Lord’s sacrifice for us and our Lenten sacrifices for Him. These feeble reminders, however good the intention behind their implementation may be, do not come anywhere close to connecting us with Our Lord’s desert experience.
This Lent, as I reflect on the question, “What could I offer Christ that would demonstrate my love for Him?” I inevitably ask another question: “What did Jesus do for me?”
My tendency is to proceed directly to the last three days of Our Lord’s life and meditate on His Passion, crucifixion, and the sheer horror and intrusive acute pain that fell upon Christ.
But what was His experience in the desert like?
Full disclosure: I did ask ChatGPT (Try not to judge me):
“Provide a biological, scientific, psychological, neurological analysis of the effects of a forty-day fast on the human person… then proceed to provide the consequences of living in the desert for forty days and nights, unshielded from the elements.”
The synopsis grants us a glimpse into Jesus’ acutely intense desert testing.
In fact, acutely intense is a massive understatement.
Our Lord’s venture into the desert was nothing less than an endeavor to push Himself to the very edge of horror, pain, cognitive dysfunction, and perhaps the worst type of death.
After we have painted the picture of the human person after forty days of fasting, we will outline the effects of living in the desert for forty days—unshielded.
1. Metabolic Phases (What the Body Actually Does)
Days 0–2: Glycogen Depletion
Days 2–10: Ketosis & Metabolic Shift
Days 10–30: Protein Catabolism
Days 30–40: System Failure Territory
2. Neurological & Psychological Effects
Early
Mid-fast
Late
3. Hormonal & Immune Consequences
4. Survival Reality
Forty days without food is survivable for some, but:
In other words, a person who fasts for forty days is on the brink of bodily failure and psychological breakdown.
He has experienced severe muscle atrophy, particularly of his cardiac and respiratory muscles, and will most likely suffer from fatal heart arrhythmias.His immune system has been greatly compromised, rendering him vulnerable to infection, and he has experienced hormonal collapse.
He has impaired judgment, emotional flattening, altered perception of pain, reduced response to danger, and lacks the capacity to preserve and protect himself. He is on the verge of fatality.
This was Jesus.
Now, if we place that person—fasting for forty days—into the context of the desert, he will encounter additional stressors that compound his trauma.
1. Thermal Stress (Heat by Day, Cold by Night)
Daytime
Nighttime
Without reliable water, survival rarely exceeds three to seven days—not forty.
3. Neurological & Psychological Effects
Early
Mid-exposure
Late
4. Skin, Eyes, and Immune Damage
The probability of survival is slim to none.
Primary causes of death include heat stroke, dehydration, renal failure, and electrolyte collapse. Psychological breakdown often precedes physical collapse.
When the forty-day fast is set within the context of the desert, systemic failure occurs:
Homeostasis — the body cannot maintain internal balance.
Electrolytes — tiny imbalances cause catastrophic outcomes.
Judgment — the brain loses the ability to assess risk accurately.
Identity & Motivation — prolonged deprivation strips away higher-order thinking.
What remains is not strength or weakness, but bare survival physiology.
Moreover, Mark recounts that “He was with the beasts” (Mark 1:13), indicating that while in His weakest neurological, psychological, and physical state, Our Lord had to defend Himself from carnivorous jackals, hyenas, wolves, and perhaps the Syrian brown bear that were intent on devouring Him for dinner.
St. Matthew tells us, “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert, to be tempted by the devil” (Matthew 4:1).
Mark says that “the Spirit drove Him out into the desert” (Mark 1:12).
God drove Jesus into the desert for the purpose of testing, which involves overcoming temptation.
Our Lord intentionally, disregarding any form of self-preservation, launched into a battle with death itself.
Jesus purposefully took His entire human person to the edge of physical and psychological fatality in order to learn how to overcome the enemy in His lowest and most vulnerable state.
His purpose was to prepare Himself for His public ministry, which would demand everything from Him, including His three-day imprisonment, bodily and psychological torture, and His brutal crucifixion and death on the Cross.
If He could defeat Satan while at His weakest in the desert, He could endure His ultimate sacrificial offering when He would again be in His most vulnerable state.
How the Desert Experience Prepared Christ
Consider several key moments of Our Lord’s ministry that could have caught Him off guard—and perhaps overcome Him—had He not trained and prepared Himself in the desert.
After the feeding of the multitudes, the crowds desired to carry Him off and crown Him king (see John 6:15).
In the desert, Christ—while enduring His lowest cognitive functional level, while experiencing hallucinations and disorientation—withstanding Satan’s offer: “Bow down to me, and I will give you the kingdoms of the world” (see Matthew 4:8–9; Luke 4:5–8).
Jesus rendered Himself capable of overcoming the temptation to be crowned king of Israel because He had already, while His defenses were lowest, overcome the temptation to be “lord and prince of the world.”
Later, after being with the multitudes for over three days, the scribes and Pharisees demanded that Jesus perform a sign to prove that He was the Son of God (see Matthew 12:38; 16:1–4).
Jesus, while in the desert—unshielded and severely famished to the point of muscular atrophy and malnutrition—was prompted by the devil to turn stones into bread. The devil goaded Him to prove that He was the Son of God by means of a miracle.
Yet Jesus, in a sense, said to the devil, “I do not have to prove Myself to anyone—especially you—because I am confident in My identity as the Son of God the Father.”
Jesus’ ability to maintain His confidence in the Father and His identity as Son—without succumbing to proving Himself—prepared Him to overcome with ease the temptation to prove His divine identity to the Jews.
Jesus could have fled the desert experience. He could have stopped His fast. He could have given Himself reprieve. He could have appealed to comfort—but He did not.
Later, in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying to His Father that the chalice of ignominious suffering would pass, a cohort armed with clubs, torches, and swords demanded that Jesus surrender Himself to the religious authorities (see John 18:1–11).
His refusal to flee the desert test provided Jesus with the experiential strength and confidence that He could resist fleeing from those who came to capture Him.
I could provide a multitude of examples—you get the idea.
So, what is the point?
Are you and I allowing the Holy Spirit to drive us into the desert to be tested—and yes, even tempted?
Are you and I intentionally choosing sensual deprivation, or are we succumbing to comfort?
At every turn, amidst every trial and test, during every fast and personal mortification, the evil one and his minions will offer an easier, more comfortable way out. If we choose comfort over sacrifice, when the time for real sacrifice comes, we will not be capable of loving Christ, for we have consistently loved ourselves first.
You and I are called to spiritual boot camp with the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit is looking for a few good men willing to follow Jesus into the desert experience and deny comfort for the sake of becoming a sacrificial offering to God.
The call to action is extremely simple:
Whenever and wherever you are, choose discomfort over comfort.
For example:
Choose discomfort, and you will gain the divine comfort of knowing that you are becoming a true son of God the Father.
Indeed, by removing comfort, you make room for Him to dwell within you.
Acquiescing to comfort has consistently offered me short-term consolation, but also the long-term desolation of knowing that I am pathetic and lack love for my Lord and Savior.
It is in conquering short-term consolation that I begin to experience enduring peace, knowing that I am choosing Him above myself, making a home for Him within me, and becoming capable of proclaiming with the holy apostle Paul, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20).
Endnotes/Resources:
https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P1E.HTM
Catechism on Christ’s temptation
Devin Schadt
Executive Director | The Fathers of St. Joseph