And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. Genesis 32:24

The Bible sees you. 

You look at it.

It looks back.

People are uncomfortable with this. 

Two examples: It’s common to look at the book of Ecclesiastes — that weird, loud, Old Testament Op-Ed — and ask, “Why is this here? What does this mean?”

But Qoheleth just stares right back at you. “Why is anything here? What does anything mean?”

Similarly, it’s common to read the book of Job and ask, “Why is he suffering? What did he do wrong?”

But Job just glares back at you.

“Great question.”

This book is reading you. You want answers. It wants to fight. Not a history of heroes. A treasury of dysfunction. Your life included. We tend to think we’re beyond these pages, past them or above them, and in control.

Not so.

Feel that shove? 

You want answers. It wants to fight.

—

Jacob betrayed Esau. Then he left. Years went by and one day, the promise of a violent collision rose over the horizon — four hundred men and a betrayed brother coming Jacob’s way. 

Bracing for impact, Jacob sends a caravan of gifts to march ahead and absorb the first flashes of Esau’s wrath. Believing that a confrontation is out ahead of him, he kisses his wife and children goodbye and sends them, too, on toward Esau. 

Now Jacob is alone. He’s also mistaken.

The violence isn’t in front of him. It’s standing behind him. A defining confrontation.

And the being he finds waiting for him is much more dangerous than an estranged brother.

It’s an estranged God.

Jacob made a lot of plans that day but he didn’t plan for this. 

—

The fight that ensued is legendary — it lasted a few hours and is described with few words. But we know this. Jacob stumbled away with a battered hip and a new name. 

So will you.

—

Hard truth. God’s not a man. He’s not a woman either. He’s not interested in your approval. He has no marketing department that’s desperately trying to reach you with tailored messaging and innovative SEO. His word was made to find you and fight you. It will wait. It will not sleep. 

And when you are dead, it will endure because it does not need you. But you need it like a drowning man needs the lifeguard to turn around. 

—

You want answers. He wants to fight.

So fight.

You must not be passive with this Word. You must contend.
You must not foolishly believe that you are in control. You are not. It’s that simple. 

But that does not mean that all collisions, crisis, catastrophe, are unplanned or without purpose.

It means that, in the midst of each one, you have a choice. You can give up, or you can fight through the night and continue to hold on.

—

Hold on to what? Not fate.

Not that kitschy wall art you find at Target.

Not “Everything happens for a reason.”

Not “Follow your heart.”

Not “Hope.”

Not “Believe.”

Not “Love.”

Christ.

Hope in him, believe in him, follow him, and love him.

Jacob got a new name because that’s what God does with people. He makes them new. When we hold on to Christ through every miserable crisis of our lives, he makes us new too. He gives us a new identity. The dead now living, sinners now saints, the born now born again, the hell-bound now invited to the last wedding and celebration without end.

So fight.

Endure until the end and God will bless you.

—

Fight with the living word daily. And when you do, look closely at what it does to you, how it hits you, where you feel bruised. Much of the time, whatever it’s doing to you is intentional. 

Are you confronted? Answer.

Are you guilty? Plead for mercy.

Are you guided? Go.

Are you comforted? Rest. 

Are you confused? Ask.

Are you lost? Seek.

Are you locked out? Knock.

Fight.

Do not stop.

—{t}—

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