The Wisdom in Wrestling
Genesis 32:22-31
Rev. Jeanne Thomas
Preached Sunday, August 10, 2008
I don’t know about you, but I’d much prefer to go through life with a minimal amount of conflict and struggle. But according to Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann, there are no untroubled encounters with God. And if we want to grow in our faith, God will come to us and lock us in combat, often at the most inopportune moments.
It’s been twenty years since Jacob first fled his homeland, and now God is telling him to return to it, and to reconcile his relationship with Esau. You may remember that the whole reason Jacob fled in the first place was because he had stolen Esau’s blessing and birthright, and Esau threatened to kill him. He hasn’t heard or seen Esau since that day, so the thought of facing him is somewhat daunting. And even though God has provided him refuge all these years, and granted him two wives and twelve children and wealth and possessions, Jacob still isn’t convinced that God can be trusted. So Jacob sends messengers ahead of him to notify Esau of his coming, and to gauge Esau’s reaction to the news. And when they report back that Esau has 400 troops with him, Jacob fears for his life.
So he strategically divides up his family and flocks into separate groups, to minimize any physical harm that could come to them and he sends them out in waves across the Jabbok, and he heads up the entourage with his servants laden with gold and livestock to present to Esau as a peace offering. Finally, all have departed and Jacob’s left alone on the other side of the Jabbok River, where he settles down for what he imagines could be his last night of freedom--or even his life.
Any time there is a crossing of a river in scripture, there is some important personal threshold involved. And this time is no different. The Jabbok is a metaphor for the spiritual divide between doubt and faith. The word Jabbok means “emptiness,” and Jacob had never felt more empty and alone than he did that night. The river seemed insurmountable as Jacob struggled with his doubts and regrets. He was frightened and discouraged as he anticipated the next morning. And he pleaded with God to come to his aid. But the last thing Jacob expected was to engage God in a wrestling match. He certainly wasn’t looking for any trouble; all he wanted was a good night’s sleep. But God had other plans. God knew that if Jacob were to be ready for the grace and gifts yet to come, it would first take a long night of wrestling with God and himself.
When is the last time you wrestled with God? Was it about your health? Your children? Your marriage? Your job? Your faith? Struggling can be exhausting, and it can keep us awake night after night. All of us at one time or another have been there, wrestling with choices we’ve made and decisions we’re facing. And like Jacob, until the day breaks, we just can’t seem to let go of all that takes hold of our mind and heart.
That entire night, Jacob wrestled—at first, with a man, according to scripture. But as the story unfolds it becomes clear that it was really with God that he wrestled. And in that long, sleepless night, Jacob finally let go of his past and clung to God instead.
I have always loved the story of the Voyage of Dawn Treader, the third book in the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. In the story, the three children are once again in Narnia and this time are on a sea vessel with their cousin, Eustace Scrubb. Eustace, we’re told, is selfish and obnoxious and rude. They discover an island and disembark, and Eustace stumbles into a cave with a dead dragon and a stash of treasure. Being the greedy boy that he is, he claims it all for himself.
But “sleeping on the dragon’s hoard, with greedy dragonish thoughts, overnight he becomes a dragon himself.” He goes back to his friends to ask for help, but they are frightened when they see him and chase him away. He tries to scrape off the dragon skin, but he can’t seem to rid himself of it. Then he finds a pool and sees his reflection and begins to cry and Aslan appears, the lion who in Narnia is a Christ-figure. Aslan offers to help him, but Eustace refuses, so confident is he that he can somehow get rid of the dragon skin himself. But even though he is able to take off a layer or two, when he looks in the pool again there is always new dragon skin under the old layers he’s torn away.
Finally, he allows
Aslan to use his claws to rip away at the skin, and it hurts so much that
Eustace is afraid he is going to die. But Aslan rips the skin open and helps
him get out of it, and submerges him into the pool of water. And when he resurfaces,
he is rid of not only his dragon skin, but of his old dragonish personality. He isn’t perfect, we’re told; he sometimes has
relapses and reverts to his former behavior, but overall, he is transformed.
I mention this story, because, like Jacob’s night of wrestling at the Jabbok, it illustrates an important truth about us and our relationship with God: we can never achieve our own inner transformation. We are changed by God’s grace, and by God’s grace alone. And for whatever reason, it is only through our struggling—whether it’s struggling with our desires, our relationships, our health, or our faith—that we gain perspective on who we are in relation to God and each other, and emerge with a new outlook on life. And as both Eustace and Jacob discovered, no transformation is painless.
When veteran journalist and author Bill Moyers had a heart attack, he, too wrestled with God. “In the dark night he wondered, ‘Can I trust God? Can I count on God for what the future holds?’ And he found himself crying out, and in the days that followed he knew that deep inside of his being in that encounter with God in the darkness and the aloneness, something had changed in him. He reflects, “I found new strength and new hope and comfort, but something else had changed. In my woundedness, I realized that all my life I’d been wounding other people. I’d wanted to succeed, and in doing that, in seeking that success I’d wounded my wife, my colleagues, my children. In my own night of struggle and of being wounded, I discovered that I did not want to wound anymore, but to be a wounded healer instead.”[i]
When Jacob was wounded, he could have given up. After
all, it had been a very long night and he was hurting and exhausted. But for the
first time in his life, he clung to God, heart, mind, and soul. And he
continued to hang on until God blessed him. It wasn’t the blessing he was
expecting, of course: no property or progeny or rewards were involved. Instead,
he was given a new name—Israel, “the one who strives with God.” No longer did
the name Jacob, “the supplanter or trickster,” describe his character. He, too
had now become a wounded healer and was finally ready live out the covenant
promises of God.
When the sun rose, Jacob hobbled towards Esau, dislocated
hip and all, and yet was stronger than ever before. He was now armed with an
entirely new perspective and identity. Both broken and blessed, he knew
first-hand that power is made perfect in weakness. Compassion is made stronger
in suffering. Sensitivity is made sharper in adversity. Dependence on God is
made rock-solid in situations of struggle. And the real blessing comes not from
what we are holding, but from whom
we are holding. And Esau saw the transformation in Jacob and embraced him and
reconciled with him.
Jacob’s trials haven’t ended, of course.
There are more family crises and heartbreaks to come. But from this point on,
he trusts God to see him through the good days and the bad, knowing that God is
with him even in the darkest of hours.
There’s a wonderful poem called “Bike
Secrets” that captures the essence of Jacob’s struggle and ours. It has meant a
lot to me over the years, and perhaps it will ring true for you as well. I’d
like to share it in closing:
At first I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited Heaven or Hell when I die. He was out there sort of like the President. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I didn't really know Him.
But later on when I recognized him, it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride; but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that God was in the back helping me pedal. I don't know just when it was that God suggested we change places, but life hasn’t been the same since . . .
When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable. It was the shortest distance between two points. But when God took the lead, God knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places and at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, God said, "Pedal!"
I worried and was anxious and asked, "Where are you taking me?" God laughed and didn't answer, and I started to trust. I forgot my past and entered into the adventure; and when I'd say, "I'm scared," God leaned back and touched my hand. God took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance, and joy. They gave me their gifts to take on my journey; our journey, God's and mine.
I didn’t trust God at first, in control of my life. I thought God would wreck it. But God knew bike secrets, knew how to make it bend to take sharp corners, jump to clear high places filled with rocks, fly to shorten scary passages.
And I'm learning to pedal in the strangest places, and I'm beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion.
And when I'm sure I can't do any more, God just smiles and says, "PEDAL!"[ii]
When you wrestle with God, you may not morph from a
dragon into a human, or be renamed Israel, but you will be changed—and perhaps,
even wounded in the process. That’s the claim of this text and of the Gospel. But
through our struggle, the one who was wounded for our sake has promised never
to let us go…no matter what. So hold on tight until you, too are blessed with
the transforming power and grace of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Gracious God, you come to us even in the darkest of times, and never let us go. As Jacob wrestled with you and prevailed, may we too hold onto you with our lives, our souls, our all. For we pray in the strong name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.