Wrestling with God

I'm reading a collection of essays by Andree Seu. I suppose that makes me sound intellectual -- but don't jump to any conclusions yet. Mrs. Seu is a former columnist for WORLD Magazine, and she is brilliant. I have to read slowly and deliberately, even re-reading sections to get it all in. The title of this book of collected essays is Won't Let You Go Unless You Bless Me. I'm reminded immediately of the Scriptural reference. "When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, 'Let me go, for the day has broken.' But Jacob said, 'I will not let you go unless you bless me." (Genesis 32:25-26) I've yet to get to an essay that touches on this Scripture exactly, but I think I get it already -- and I'm reminded of a divine appointment I had with my Father about a month or so ago. It was one of those rare epiphany moments that can change your life -- if you'll just let it. I would love to say that I was traipsing through a forest or meandering through a meadow when a shaft of light fell across the path ahead and I heard a voice speaking. But in reality, I was putting clean sheets on the bed in our spare room. I was thinking how my plans for the next day had changed and I would not be able to visit my grandmother, who is only weeks away from Heaven. That thought led to a quick decision that I would begin to pray that Grandmother would die in her sleep -- or at the very least, that she would never know a moment of panic as she slipped out of that worn-out body. In that instant -- as the sheet was falling over the bed -- I got it. I understood something that has never fully made sense to me before. I've explained it to the few I've shared this with that it was like a 1000 piece puzzle flying together to form a beautiful picture. I understood that my prayer truly can change things.

Now to some, that might seem an unusual thing for this Baptist preacher's daughter to have NOT understood for these many years. I have certainly heard a sermon or two preached along those lines. But I've also taken apologetics classes that debate the whole Calvinism vs. Arminianism (sp?) thing. And somewhere along the way, I decided there was really no way of knowing. I decided that we pray (and sometimes fast) for our own growth. That prayer was just an act of sanctification, somehow becoming more like Christ in the process.

But that all changed those several weeks ago beside the bed -- and not because I was on my knees. For the first time, I knew that I had a choice to pray for Grandmother -- and that God might very well answer that prayer JUST because it was important enough for me to pray about it. I could be the woman in the parable who just continues to plead her cause before the Judge over and over again until He chooses to act on my behalf.

So what does all this have to do with Jacob wrestling the Christ? Is that not the most astounding passage of Scripture? I mean the more I think about all that those few verses entail, the more I'm quite literally dumbfounded that we glaze over that so quickly. I ran my own interpretation of this past my dad, who promptly told me that I was thinking like a girl. I wonder, though, how else am I supposed to think? In all honesty, I think his interpretation is rather, well, a guy thing.

OK -- so here's Jacob. He's about to meet his brother again after so many years, the brother from whom he stole the blessing. He is quite possibly facing his death the next day. He has sent his family and servants and cattle and every possible gift he could think of ahead of him -- so that Esau would meet them first -- and, perhaps, by the time Esau made his way through all that, he would be in the state of mind to show mercy. But then, there's this man that shows up that night. And He is, without doubt, Christ -- a preincarnate appearance of the 2nd person of the Trinity. And somehow, they start fighting. As a woman (according to my dad) and perhaps as a mother of two preschool boys, I'm inclined to ask, "Who started the fight? And why?"

And why did they fight all night? As Christ did at His condescension, He might have walked into this tussle having given up certain aspects of being God -- like omnipotence, for example. The fight seems real because Jacob is ultimately really wounded. But this was a battle of the heart. They were struggling together over something. But what? THAT is where the boy vs. girl interpretation kicks in. Dad jumps right to this being some kind of final spiritual scuffle for Jacob. For, to his Dad's credit, Jacob does seem to be much more spiritually inclined when the day breaks. But I'm not ready for dawn yet, I'm still on the words, "I will not let you go uness you bless me." And I think that Jacob wanted to know that his father's blessing those many years ago was real. Had he been wondering all these years if he had really been given God's blessing? There were certainly a few episodes in those years that would make him question God's hand of blessing on his life. I don't even know if that's true -- and it doesn't even matter why Jacob wanted the blessing. To me, it's all about the struggle. He was willing to make his case before the great Judge. His was a physical battle. But to me, it's just a reflection of a battle I should take up every day. No, I'm not fighting against God. And Jacob wasn't really either. How could he? With one touch, finally, the fight ended. Jacob was crippled -- and yet, God told him that he had won. He was given the blessing. So, I wonder what matters enough to me that I am willing to fight for it? Not against my Jehovah-Jireh, my God Who Provides. But with Him -- He is changing me while I am doing the only thing I can do sometimes -- and that is to make my case, over and over again, before the God of all Mercy. And perhaps, my earnest pleading can change things. And if it doesn't, if Grandmother struggles in her death, I will still know that my prayers were heard and accounted for. And I will trust that His way was better. And when the tears come that my prayers weren't answered, He'll collect them in a bottle, and He'll wipe my eyes. And someday in glory, I will no longer see through these dark glasses.