As he walked through that wilderness, in those 40 days of space and silence and emptiness, with time on his hands and the thoughts rattling like stones in his mind…
Did he see the struggles others would face?
Did he feel the pain of loss and loneliness?
Did he sense the wrestling of more than flesh and blood?
Did he glimpse the wars and wounds that would rage?
Did he know the rejection and ridicule of worldly ignorance?
And did those times of temptation prepare him for the most crucial temptation of all, in that garden of blood and sweat and prayer, when his dry-lipped words would change from, ‘Father take this cup from me.’ to ‘Your will be done.’
40 days to prepare himself, to change shape, to become the servant king, unafraid of washing feet and embracing the unloved.
40 days to sharpen his vision and see so clearly that power and pride and manipulation were not the way to change things.
40 days to tune into the ever-present tender voice of the One who loved him, and valued him, the source and calling and destiny of his being and doing.
40 days for history. 40 days that would last forever.