The Night Jacob Wrestled God

Do you know what it feels like to be so tired you can barely stand, and still have something hard waiting for you in the morning?

That was Jacob.

It was night. The dark kind of night, where the river whispers and you cannot even see your own hands. Jacob had sent everyone he loved across the water ahead of him. His wives. His children. Everything he owned. And then, all alone, he stayed behind.

Why?

Because in the morning he would have to face his brother Esau. Long before, Jacob had tricked him. He had dressed in his brother's clothes and stolen a blessing that was not his. Ever since, Jacob had been running and grabbing, holding tight to things with both fists, the way frightened people do.

Now there was nowhere left to run. Only the river, and the dark, and the morning coming.

And then, out of the dark, a Man took hold of him.

They wrestled. All night long. Jacob did not even know who it was. He only knew he would not let go. His arms ached. His breath burned. The stars turned slowly overhead, and still the two of them strained together in the dust by the river.

Jacob had spent his whole life fighting. Fighting to get ahead. Fighting to be loved. Fighting to make sure he was never, ever left behind. And here, at last, was a fight he could feel all the way down to his bones.

Just before the sun came up, the Man reached out and touched Jacob's hip. Only touched it. And something deep inside it pulled loose, and Jacob could never stand quite the same way again.

"Let me go," the Man said. "Morning is here."

But Jacob held on. Hurting, limping, with no strength left, he held on with everything he had. "I won't let go," he gasped, "until you bless me."

Somewhere in that long dark night, Jacob had stopped fighting to win. He was only holding on to be loved. The boy who had once stolen a blessing was now begging for one.

And the Man said, "What is your name?"

"Jacob." It was a name that meant the grabber, the one who takes and tricks. To say his name was to say everything he was ashamed of.

"Not anymore," the Man said gently. "Now your name is Israel. For you have wrestled with God, and you are still here."

Then he blessed him. Right there in the dust. And Jacob knew, with a shiver, that he had been holding on to God himself all night long. And God had let him.

When the sun came up over the river, Jacob did not walk the proud way anymore. He limped. For the rest of his life he limped, leaning, needing help with every step. And that was the day Jacob became strong, not by grabbing and winning, but by being weak enough, at last, to hold on and be blessed.

Far, far down the long road ahead of him, Another would come. One who would be broken on purpose, for you. One who would let the dark take hold of him, so that he could carry you safely home through it. The strong One who wins by becoming weak.

But that morning, the river shone, and a brother was waiting on the other side. Jacob took a deep breath, and limped out to meet him.