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.