“Demand a Blessing”
Genesis 32:22-31
Full disclosure:
If you’ve never struggled through a hard time; if you’ve never wrestled with indecision, identity or guilt; if you’ve never stayed awake all night tossing and turning with worry or fear or anger; if you’ve never struggled to understand how you, despite all your healthy habits, could get a horrible diagnosis and be faced with long and unpleasant treatments; if you’ve never prayed desperately for pain to end or love to come back; if you’ve never felt stuck in a horrible situation; if you’ve never experienced the darkness of depression or been tempted to despair by the state of the world; if you’ve never been worn down by trouble or worn out by grief; if you’ve never wanted to yell and scream at God . . . well, then, there is really nothing in today’s sermon that applies to you.
On the other hand, I suppose that means that today’s sermon is relevant to virtually all of us, with the possible exception of some of our youngest children.
Because today’s Bible story is about struggle—and someone is always struggling. Someone is always wrestling with one thing or another.
And because of that, today’s story is much more than a story.
The story about Jacob wrestling with a man or God or an angel (take your pick) is about life, and the way life works.
Spoiler alert: As Rabbi Abraham Heschel said, “Just to be is a blessing.
It’s also a story about God, and how God works.
Spoiler alert: With more love than we deserve, more grace than we can imagine, and with blessings galore.
And, perhaps more than anything, it’s a story about us and how we might survive and even grow from the hard times in our lives.
Spoiler alert: Apparently, there’s something to be said for knowing when to hang on and when to let go, and maybe we should actually be more demanding of God.
And, to be very clear: This is not about looking for the silver lining behind a dark cloud. This is not about looking on the bright side of a horrible situation. And this story is absolutely not about staying in a dangerous or abusive situation.
But neither is it about resisting life’s injustices, unfairnesses, disappointments, and hard times. It is about accepting what is and looking for the Holy in it. It is about trusting that, by God’s grace, we can do more than simply survive the hard times; we can let them shape us and heal us and guide us into the fullness of life.
Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun and author, says that “wrestling with God is the essence of life. Struggle is the process that drives us to find God within us and in the darkness that surrounds us.”
More than that, she says, “Struggle is always an invitation to new life that, the longer it is resisted, the longer we fail to become who we are really meant to be.” … Surrender is the moment we realize it is time to become someone new. Surrender … distinguishes who I was from who I have become.”
So, while Jacob’s story is a good and compelling one and, beyond that, one I love to to tell for the drama of a really bad guy making good on nothing more than the amazing grace of God, I’m not going to talk much about Jacob this morning.
Because this story, this reflection on struggle and hard times, growth and blessing, is not hypothetical. It is not just metaphorical or theological or philosophical.
Jacob’s experience of wrestling with life and God is a universal human experience.
The truth is that right now many of us right here are struggling with one thing or another—illness or grief, uncertainty, despair, the challenges of relationship or loneliness.
Some of us have shared our struggles; some of us keep our struggles and our problems mostly to ourselves; and some of us don’t even realize we are struggling.
Some of us have every reason to feel discouraged, and some of us do our best to put on a happy face. Some of us are in denial. And for others of us, every day is a struggle to keep going.
Maybe we haven’t quite thought of it this way but, even now, some of us are wrestling with God.
And if that rings true for you this morning, I invite you to hear this sermon as validation of your experience. I encourage you to honor your hurt feelings, to voice your complaints, to seek to prayerfully discern what your questions and fears are really about, and to demand of God a blessing.
And if you’re not actively struggling right now—good for you!—I invite you to remember times when you have struggled. Times when something didn’t work out the way you wanted and you were not only heartbroken but lost. Times when you reached a crossroad and weren’t sure which way to go.
Jacob’s wrestling match had started long before he reached the Jabbok with everything he owned. The striving had begun long before he crossed that river on the way to meet the twin brother he had robbed of everything 20 years earlier, the brother who had sworn to kill him.
In the same way, chances are that our current complaints against God and the particularities of our current circumstances and struggles did not come out of nowhere.
Chances are that, for us as well as Jacob, our current struggles reflect —among other things—yet another deep wound being exposed to the light of love. And, understood that way, they are another opportunity for healing, another turning or transformation point, another step on the lifelong journey to wholeness, another kairos moment in which we are able to grow, to change, to become more fully ourselves and more deeply connected to the sustaining love of God.
And we, just like Jacob, have some choices to make.
Granted, we did not and do not want to be in our current wrestling match any more than Jacob wanted to be wrestling with an angel-God-man on the eve of what might have been payback for all the wrong he’d done in his life.
But here we are. Again.
And here’s the cancer. Here’s the depression, still. Here’s another loss or disappointment or setback. Here’s a place we’ve never been before, and we’re not sure which way to go. Here’s more uncertainty and confusion. Here’s pain. Here’s not knowing who we can rely on or what we can trust. Here’s still more injustice, suffering, and violence, and destruction in the world—all while the rich and powerful seem to catch every break.
And here, once again, we are given the opportunity to acknowledge and answer some of life’s most fundamental, important, and recurring questions:
Will I recognize and acknowledge that I’m having a hard time, or will I live my days in denial or on autopilot?
Will I resist what is, refusing the opportunity to reconsider my ways of thinking and being?
Will I stay in the struggle because I trust in God’s goodness and choose to believe there are treasures even in the deepest darkness?
How will I know when to stay in the struggle—to resist what is—and when to surrender—to accept what is?
How can I let myself be transformed and healed by the gifts of a horrible situation I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy?
How will I manage to keep going if that’s the only way through?
To whom and to what will I turn for wisdom, support, love, and a hand to hold?
In other words, how will I get through this?
Of course, there are no one-size-fits-all answers to these questions. But each struggle and each question offer us opportunities for prayer, contemplation, discernment, connection, and all manner of spiritual practice.
There is no one-size-fits-all, but we keep coming back to the story of Jacob because we are surprised and somewhat scandalized by Jacob’s brazen choice.
The story of Jacob suggests that there can be value in striving, healing in the struggle, and hope in hanging on. The story of Jacob suggests that there can be blessing even in the most painful of situations.
“I will not let you go,” Jacob tells the angel-God-man—“not until, not unless you bless me.”
For all his faults, Jacob understood what we sometimes forget: That God is waiting to be gracious to us. That Love is longing for an invitation to go over the top. That more blessings than we can count already have our names on them and are primed for delivery.
So perhaps we, like Jacob, should insist on a blessing for our trouble, salve for our wounds, mercy for our wrongs. Perhaps we shouldn’t let the Holy One off the hook, but should cash in every divine promise ever made.
In your current struggle—or some future situation—what would a blessing look like? What is a development or outcome that you would know is of God? What shift in your heart might convince you that Spirit is hard at her holy work—even in the darkness, even through your fear, even in your grief or despair?
Imagine the blessings that might come of your current struggle. Imagine and name the blessings that might already have your name on them.
And then, ask yourself this:
How might you demand that blessing of God? Or, if that feels too brazen or scandalous, how might you open your heart to see and receive that blessing? How might you put yourself in the path of it?
Yes, the struggle will change you. Struggles always change us. And for some blessed changes, a limp is a small price to pay.
