Wrestling with God, proud flesh and dark scars

Genesis 32:22-31

22 The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. 23 He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 24 Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26 Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." 27 So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." 28 Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." 29 Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. 30 So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." 31 The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

I think in modern biblical parlance, we could say that the night that Jacob wrestled with the angel--he was a hot mess.  Jacob had always been a little “tremendous” as we say in Spanish. You see, that night same night, before the wrestling match, Jacob was preparing for the arrival of his estranged twin brother Esau, (This is the brother he had tricked and stolen the family birthright from, the blessing and inheritance from decades earlier).

That same night before the wrestling match, brother Esau is on his way towards Jacob and his family with 400 men.  The book of Genesis reports that Jacob was terrified and feared vengeance. And in fear, “The same night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok river. 23 He took his family and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 24 Jacob was left alone.  And then alone that evening, he prayed to God for deliverance from his brother.

Then, there on the muddy banks of the river during the night, Jacob encounters a man or an angel of God who wrestles with him until dawn. This isn’t just a little spat, this is a full on interminable, exhausting fight where Jacob’s hip is knocked out of joint. And even wounded there, still Jacob persists in the fight with the man on the river bank. When the man said to Jacob, Let me go, for day is breaking, Jacob persisted, wounded, heaving, and sweating and determinedly insisting: I will. Not. Let. You. Go. until you bless me.  Finally, finally, as the dawn is breaking the man renames Jacob, he calls him Isra-el (or God strives).  And then, the man reveals that he is God and he gives Jacob (or Israel) his blessing.  Jacob walked with a limp for the rest of his life after the fight that night.

Alright. So, the God who throws Jacob down on the banks of the river is not my go-to God.  The Bible refers to God in a lot of different ways.  There’s Jesus the Good Shepherd, Jesus the Healer, Creator God, God the liberator who leads the Israelites from bondage, Jesus Mother Hen. Father God. These images of God are dear to me.  God is comforting. Compassionate, and in control.  These images of God remind me that God takes care of me, leads me, provides for me.  We find this God all over our liturgy—Our Father who art in Heaven who gives us our daily bread, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, The Lord who is my Shepherd who leads me beside still waters and restores my soul even though I walk through the valley of the shadow. 

There’s a big part of me that needs and depends on this aspect of God.  And yet, while there is something important and essential in this characteristic of God, there are moments when I long for something more.

There came a point in my adult life, when a couple of my closest relationships had to grow up.  In my case, one of the very closest relationships in my life is that with my husband. I think there had been a point—earlier on—where I was pretty sure that achieving happiness was the goal of our marriage.   #happilyeverafter.  The only thing is that I have a shadow side with imperfections that are deeper than the clothes that I leave all over our room.  I have heartache and mess and insecurities and weeds and all of it and there came a point where I realized that what I hoped for in our of our relationship was not just shiny-penny happiness. If happiness was fickle enough to be affected by my train running late, or a bad chilidog that I had eaten for lunch, that I needed something more in this relationship.  What I longed for and needed in my relationship was growth. Someone to help me melt the chains in my own heart, explore my shadows, someone to call me out and into new rooms in my soul that I didn’t know existed. 

A similar shift has happened over the years with other relationships that have grown up. With my siblings whom I love fiercely. And a best friend or two that has been along for the ride. With these very dearest people in my life, I expect to grow. And with that, none of these relationships are without their scars. 

The poet, Jane Hirshfield writes,

And see how the flesh grows back

across a wound, with a great vehemence,

more strong

than the simple, untested surface before.

There's a name for it on horses,

when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh…

And when two people have loved each other

see how it is like a

scar between their bodies,

stronger, darker, and proud;

how the black cord makes of them a single fabric

that nothing can tear or mend.

So I say this morning: if I can expect to grow and struggle in my dearest relationships, If I can expect this scar of proud flesh in the closest relationships in my life, can I expect it of God? 

For some reason, I think we’ve come to think of faith as submitting to God’s will and letting God just manage things.  Or passively believing and accepting different doctrines and beliefs while God placidly sits and orchestrates lovingly from afar. 

Forgive me dear ones, but when it feels like our primary or consistent image of God is that of a parent or a shepherd, then faith can feel like I am a preschooler holding onto one of those ropes while my teacher walks me down the street to the park.  And it certainly doesn’t feel like there is so much expected of me.  It certainly never seems like my relationship with God should bear a scar.  It certainly doesn’t seem like this relationship with God should fly in a sense out of control, like it would in a healthy wrestling match…

One of the things that I’ve always loved about this congregation is that there is a freedom to be able to ask hard questions of God and to interrogate our faith, to say, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” To open up the social issues of the day and ask, where is God in the teacher’s strike, in the hungry bellies in our community, in the alcoholism?  To wrestle with God.  The image of God who wrestles Jacob in the mud on the side of the river bed should be blazoned onto our walls somewhere around here because this is a God I can sink my teeth into.

In our bible story today, I hear God calling out for this richness and growth in our unique relationships with Her.  That we might not be afraid to shout out, “how dare you, Jesus?!” And, you know, instead of, “how dare you, Jesus” and washing our hands of  God and storming off, A “how dare you?!” that gets us to roll up our sleeves and refuse to take no for answer. 

This story of Jacob wrestling God that night at the river Jabbok shows us that God stays right there in the fighting match.  Not on the defense, not in an angry way, but in an “alright, let’s do this. Let’s fight it out. Bring it.”  Kind of way. We are called to stay in the struggle. to participate, not to sit apathetically resigned on the sidelines, but to fight in our faith. 

Faith isn’t about getting the creeds right, or the prayer right. It is about knowing what God has done in my life in the past and believing that God will do it again.  Faith is to show up in prayer, with the picket sign, to resist injustice (even when we’re tired), and to grapple with our questions about meaning in the aching moments in our souls. Faith is to insist on intimacy with our Creator and know that God will flex with us, God will hold steady, God will push and strain and strive. Faith is to wrap our arms around and struggle with the One alone who can bless us.  And the good news, is that God. Will. Bless. Us.  Expect that of God.

Proud flesh. A scar that is strong. Dark. Proud.

The story of our spiritual ancestor Jacob fighting with the angel takes an interesting twist after that night when God blesses him.   Jacob, now Israel, finally crosses the river (a new creation) and rejoins his family. As he goes out to meet his estranged brother, he bows deeply in humility (which isn’t his style) and his brother throws convention aside and runs to him and bear hugs him. And they reconcile after decades apart.

The moments of struggle, they are the moments that make us. They are the moments of growth that, by the grace of God, will bless us.  And God will bless us for the sake of the world that God loves.

God's promise in the less than ideal life circumstances

Jeremiah 29:1-2, 4-7, 11-13

1 These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. This was after King Jehoiachin^[a] and the queen mother, the court officials and the leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the skilled workers and the artisans had gone into exile from Jerusalem.4 Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: 5 Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. 6 Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. 7 But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.¹¹ For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. ¹² Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. ¹³ When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart.

In the battle of Shiloh during the civil war, a story’s told of a young Union soldier who suffered a serious bullet wound to his shin. Captain Wells ordered him to the rear, however when he arrived at the rear of the battle he found it still raging all around him.  So he ran to the east and then to the west, and still the battle raged everywhere. Finally, the soldier hobbled back to his captain, saying “Cap’n, give me a gun! This blamed fight ain’t got no rear!”[1]  There was no way out in sight for that wounded soldier.  The psychologist Carl Jung famously said that “Life is a battleground.  It always will be, and if it were not so, existence would come to an end.” Similar to that young wounded soldier, we can’t escape the battle.  Struggles and challenges are a regular part of life.  So what does scripture have to say about how we weather life’s storms?  What’s God’s promise for us in the less that ideal circumstances that we’ll most certainly find ourselves in at some point or another?

Today’s bible story from the book of Jeremiah sits about 600 years before Christ[2].  It’s a story about when the Babylonians invaded, sacked, and conquered Jerusalem.  It was bad. In a nutshell: the invaders (the Babylonians) gutted the military and government. They carted off the King, the queen Mother, the cabinet and congress, all the artists and all the skilled working class folks into exile a good 900 miles away from their homeland.  Gone are the days of sweet Jerusalem.  Now the Israelites live in this massively huge, foreign metropolis, complete with a 25 story statue of the local god, Marduk, smack in the middle of the city.  The Israelites (or the Jews as they start to be known as about this time) are uprooted, unhappy, discouraged and restless:  “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! What are we doing here in Babylon! In exile! Where’s the promised land! Aren’t we God’s chosen people, Israel? It’s not fair! It’s not right! Didn’t God promise David that an heir would always sit on the throne? Well! …Where. Is. The. throne? Where is God?!”  They’re fantasizing about either the good old days or the idealized days: If only we could return to our homeland—to Jerusalem--things would be better.

IF. ONLY.

Circumstances in life are never ideal right?  Sometimes, we weather really tough situations like serious illness or tragedy.  And then, sometimes, it’s the constant irritation or dissatisfaction: prolonged unemployment, or the tired dream that I would’ve/ should’ve/could’ve gotten married or started my family by this point in my life.   We had hoped that our financial situation would be better at this point. I had hoped to be in a different place in my career.  I had hoped that my blood pressure would have stabilized.  I had hoped that this new master’s degree would’ve open some doors.  Nothing is ever quite perfect right?   

Even when we give off that tricky illusion of balance, let’s be honest, things might appear to be in balance over here, but little do you know that something has totally tanked out of balance over there to make “this” happen.  That whole “I don’t know how she does it!” thing? Right, she doesn’t.  

Circumstances are never ideal. How we respond to adversity in our lives has a lot to do with perspective. And although we might want to escape (or destroy!) the present circumstances, the prophet, Jeremiah, comes to the ancient Jewish people and to us with some different wisdom this morning.

In our bible story, we read of Jeremiah, this young, tenacious prophet who sent a pastoral letter off to the exiles camped around the edge of Babylon.  In this letter, he explains that (obviously) things are less than ideal in their new land—frankly, things are terrible—but, he says to them, you are not getting out of this anytime soon, so keep your heads up!  There is blessing to be found right there.  Right where you are.  You need to settle in.  Build your houses, plant your gardens, have your children and even grandchildren. 

Work towards peace and harmony in Babylon with your Babylonian enemies (who are also your neighbors), God says—Yes, this is a mess, but pull that blessing up right out of the earth and out of each other.  Because there is blessing to be found right there.  Right where you are. In the midst of all of it.

The episcopal priest, John Claypool, told a story about a tornado that completely uprooted his granddaddy’s plum tree and threw it on its’ side. It so happened that the tree was full of fruit. It was bad. Standing there by the tree with it’s roots in the air, a friend asked John’s granddaddy, “what are you going to do with that tree?” And after a long pause, his granddaddy replied, “Well, I’m going to pick the fruit and burn the rest.”[3] God will “make all things new” and pull blessing out of any situation sometimes in ways we never saw coming. 

Mind you, God does not “send us” less than ideal situations to teach us some kind of lesson (or worse yet) punish us. But instead, God promises to come close to us during the less than ideal moments of life. And inevitably, God will pull a blessing out of whatever it is.

In the case of the ancient Jewish people, scholars tell us that much good came out of this time when they settled into their exile in Babylon.  The Jewish faith changed, evolved and grew during this time. Maybe we could even say that it bloomed. The Jewish people asked hard questions and wrestled with God.  Synagogues (and in a sense Jewish congregations) became an important part of the community. The people realized that worship wasn’t dependent on the temple but could happen anywhere.  A big part of the Hebrew Bible (or Old Testament) was formed during this time.

So settle in. Plant gardens, build houses, raise families. Do your work as a disciple who loves God. And loves her neighbor. Strive for peace in our city. Because there is no circumstance that is beyond God. There is no place where God does not abide with us, loving us in our frustration, disappointment, restlessness and heartache,  coaxing blessing out from between every rock and crevice and relentlessly making all things new.

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[1] “Battle of Shiloh” Jack Kunkle

[2] 587 BCE

[3] Paraphrased from “Searching for Happiness: How Generosity, Faith, and Other Spiritual Habits Can Lead to a Full Life,” Martin Thielen.