Faithful Paradox

I grew up as the middle of three girls, and while we certainly had some wrestling matches, more often than not, they would end in tickle wars or, on the bad days, with some nasty spoken words. Rarely, if ever, were they the grudge matches I have seen among my own boys. Being a mom to boys, more often than not, when they start to wrestle, it begins as a friendly duel, man against man, battling to prove who is stronger. You can usually find me in the background, however, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the grunts and clashes, “Boys, this is not going to end well. Boys, this never ends well.” It may be shocking to learn, it never ends well. 

So much of wrestling is based on feelings. In a wrestling match, a skilled wrestler will understand that many of the moves require sensitivity to how the opponent moves. He needs to know when to increase pressure in one moment and when to manipulate and turn his opponent in the next. While there are skills to learn, moves to master, weight to lose, and strength to acquire, so much of wrestling is based on what feels right in the moment. But if the wrestler discerns his opponent incorrectly and his feelings are wrong, he can be quickly mastered. We are no different.

I remember a particularly grueling wrestling match between two of my boys. Tensions had been high all morning. Grace seemed to be given in scant offerings. It was one of those days things were bound to explode and they did. The two boys began to spar and despite my warnings, they kept going. Despite my husband’s warnings, they kept going. Finally, my husband gave the green light and said, “Okay guys, you refused to listen to counsel, so have at it. Go after one another.” And did they ever. They went round and round and round, wrestling the anger out of their souls. It all came to a screeching halt when one boy read his brother incorrectly and the other, mastered by his anger, picked up his brother and literally put his head through the drywall in the living room.

My boys wrestled and fought, refusing to let go until one was victorious. They were mastered by their feelings; one discerned his opponent incorrectly and one did not. We see the same of one man in the Bible. Jacob was a man that God promised to bless (Genesis 26-27), and yet he was also a man who had a hard time truly believing that God would keep his promises. He believed a false gospel of self-fulfillment; he was responsible to chase after and accomplish the promises of God. While God promised good to him, he lived as if it was his job to chase down the good God had and grabbed for every gift he could find. He always had a plan to get the next good thing. Have you ever felt the same? 

Jacob spent the majority of his life trying to grab for the promises that God had already given rather than trusting God to follow through with his word. His life was marked by trial after trial, disappointment after disappointment, as he sought to fulfill what only God could do in his life. In Genesis 32, Jacob meets a stranger in the dark and spends the entire night in the most epic wrestling match of all time. Jacob encountered the Lord himself in human form and spent the night wrestling with God. Much like the grudge match between my boys, Jacob refused to let go; until his proverbial head was thrown through the drywall. 

It’s interesting to consider the actions of the wrestling stranger. The stranger was God himself, wrapped in human flesh, wrestling with man. It says, “the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, [so] he touched his hip socket and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him” (Genesis 32:25, ESV). It did not say the man could not prevail against Jacob, but rather, it says that he did not prevail. God wrestled with man and voluntarily held himself back. He voluntarily restrained his strength to meet Jacob in the darkness. While he could have destroyed Jacob, he restrained his power and might and simply wounded Jacob. Much like my son throwing his brother into the drywall, God simply wounded Jacob by damaging his hip, leaving him with a limp for the rest of his life. Unlike my boys, who were enraged and out to cause harm, the heart of God was not to wound Jacob just for the sake of wounding him. No, the wrestling of God actually wounded Jacob in order that he might heal him; heal his heart from his wrong beliefs. 

If the story stopped there, it may seem that Jacob would walk away defeated and angry that God wounded him for the rest of his life. It seems that Jacob may have cried foul and felt as if the stranger in the dark had wronged him with a dirty blow. But Jacob’s response was quite different. Despite his wounded hip, when he realized it was God with whom he wrestled, he held on and refused to let go until God blessed him. 

As Jacob held on, one of God’s blessings to him was a new name; a new identity. Previously he had been named Jacob, which meant “supplanter or one who seizes or usurps.” If you are at all familiar with Jacob’s story, it is clear he lived up to his name. On the night that Jacob wrestled with God, God changed Jacob’s name to Israel, which means, “May God prevail; God perseveres.” Jacob walked away wounded yet God gave him a new name; a new identity. His wrestling match with God changed him forever. Physically he was weaker, more vulnerable, yet emotionally, he was a new man. His identity was no longer one who needed to steal and sneak to find God, but rather, he recognized he was loved by a God who always perseveres. God wrestled Jacob’s false gospel to death and Jacob walked away a broken man, but a man with a deeper understanding of who God is. 

Have you wrestled with God? Have you found yourself in a grudge match with the Almighty Creator of the universe? If you’ve suffered and felt confused, I imagine you have wrestled with God. I know I have. We all will meet the stranger in the dark like Jacob met. The dark may be the things we’ve most dreaded, the unwanted diagnosis, the empty womb, the loss of all we have, the loss of reputation, the unexplainable circumstance, the death of the one we loved, the unrelenting anxiety, the darkness that won’t lift, the constant pain, the prodigal that has not returned. But the dark will come and when it comes, there really is no other option than to stay and wrestle or to run away. There are times in our lives that, “God has to wrestle us into a transformed life.” (Tim Keller). There are times in life that our heads go through the drywall, our hips are wounded and we walk with a limp for the rest of our days on earth. We are left wounded and confused, but the story rarely stops right there.

When we wrestle with God, there is no promise that he will change the unwanted circumstance. But like Jacob, he can use your wrestling to change your identity; to put to death the false gospels you have believed and show you more of who He is. Like Jacob, the only way we ultimately win is when we lose to God. When we finally surrender, when we allow God to rename us, when we cling to God, refusing to let go until we, “see the goodness of the Lord” (Psalm 27:13 ESV), that is when we win. When we hold on to God with all that we have, even when we feel confused, betrayed, wounded and unsure; that is when we will begin to see the good that God may have for us in the midst of the dark. 

I often wonder at what point Jacob realized that the stranger he wrestled was actually God? And I wonder at what point in my own wrestling with doubt, with fear, with disappointment, with struggle – do I realize that my wrestling is actually with God? It’s wrestling with submission. It’s wrestling with letting go. It’s wrestling with surrender. It’s wrestling to put to death the false gospels that are easy to believe. It’s wrestling with believing that God’s way is actually better than my own, even when I don’t understand it. It’s wrestling to believe that the things of God are actually better. It’s fighting for faith to believe that Jesus is better than all the other places my heart seeks to find fulfillment.  

Maybe the doubt we feel is not always actually doubt. Maybe what we are actually experiencing when we are met with questions is a wrestling match with God. Maybe wrestling with doubt is not evidence of a weak faith, but rather, evidence of a desire and willingness to engage with God. Could it be that we know what is true, but we simply don’t like it? Could it be the battle to surrender is the actual match we face? Could it be that as we wrestle with God, our pride is broken, our hearts are shattered, we are left with a limp for the rest of our lives, but we walk away changed people, looking more like Jesus and less like the sinful ones we are? Could it be that the things that leave you wounded are actually mercies from God that free you? Could it be that the things that feel really bad in your life right now, the things that leave you wrestling with God; the loss, the pain, the suffering, the confusion, the fear  – all the things that leave you questioning God – are actually the evidence of his presence with you? 

I have often become discouraged with my perceived doubt which leads to wrestling with, what feels like, unbelief. Have you been there? If so, what if we’ve gotten it wrong? What if we realize that it was not the absence of God that left Jacob wrestling, but rather it was his presence. What if we were to reframe our thinking to understand that those who wrestle with God are not necessarily battling doubt and unbelief, but rather wrestling with God is evidence of faith; evidence of God’s presence. It’s evidence of false gospels being wrestled to death. Jacob wrestled to death the idea that he was the one who had to ensure God’s promises came to fruition. God wrestled to death the deeply held belief that Jacob was responsible to cause the good to come into his life. 

Often, we assume that wrestling is bad. We assume that God is disappointed with us when we wrestle. But what if the narrative were to shift and we realize that it is actually God who invites us to wrestle? Wrestling reveals, not the absence of God, but rather his presence. Wrestling is evidence of a God who cares enough to let you spar with him, evidence of a God who voluntarily holds himself back and doesn’t destroy you. It’s a God who willingly steps onto the wrestling mat with you. God invites you to wrestle with him. It is the kindness and the love of God that moves him to invite us to wrestle him. He knows we will never win. But he says, “Come. Come with your questions, come with your doubts. Come with your false gospels and your misplaced identities, and wrestle.” And when we do we know that in all likelihood, we will walk away as changed people. Our bodies may be wounded. Our hearts may be broken. But our souls are strengthened as we understand that God’s invitation to wrestle is an expression of his love towards us because as we wrestle, we are changed.

God knows you will never win, but you need to wrestle in order to surrender; to actually know and trust him. For me, wrestling with God has been a lifetime of wrestling to put to death the false gospel that things must feel true in order to be true. Like me, when you wrestle you will likely walk away wounded, limping, broken, and confused, but you will walk away a more surrendered soul with a fuller understanding of who God has proclaimed himself to be. 

Could it be that far too often, when we wrestle with God, we are too quick to let go? Could it be that when it begins to hurt, when our false gospels begin to unravel, when our confusion sets in and defeat is imminent, we let go. What if you didn’t let go? What if you, like Jacob, refuse to let go until you receive a blessing. That blessing is the very presence of God. When we wrestle with God, we will lose, every single time. But this loss is actually our gain.