What
might it mean to wrestle with God? To me as a young Christian, the very
thought would have seemed bizarre, even inappropriate. I grew up as part of a
church where the leader was seen as having the power to interpret scripture,
and expected everyone else in the congregation to live by his teaching from the
pulpit. There was no room for wrestling with his interpretation, let alone with
God.
And
yet in the OT reading today we see Jacob, one of the three great Hebrew
patriarchs, physically wrestling with God. And this story’s by no means unique.
In different passages of the Bible we see Abraham arguing with God. We see Job
in his agony challenging God’s idea of justice. We see Jonah calling God's judgement into question. We see the writers of many of the Psalms crying out in
despair at a God who doesn’t seem to be living up to his promises. We see Jesus
himself, in agony on the cross, echoing the words of the 22nd Psalm:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me”.
Of
course, in every case there is a point to the story. In each case the person
crying out in anguish eventually sees and submits to God’s wisdom. But in
each case their cries of anguish are an indispensable part of their journey to
understanding. And there is no reticence on their part, no sense of impropriety
in pouring out their questions, their arguments, their challenges. Neither is
there any sense of disapproval on the part of the Bible authors who recorded
their words and actions. And
I can’t think of a single case in the Bible where God himself shows anger or
contempt for honest questions and doubts. Even when people, to use that
rather appealing modern phrase, really throw their toys out of the pram.
Jacob’s
story is a case in point. Remember that the Hebrews have an age-old taboo
regarding the face of God. From the earliest days, they’ve believed that seeing
God face to face results in instant death. And yet in this very ancient story,
Jacob not only meets God face to face but touches him. Not only touches him but
fights him. Not only fights him but wins – at least until God kind of cheats by
disabling him. Do you remember this from the reading earlier?
It says that Jacob is
left alone, and a man (who we are given to understand is God in human form) wrestles
with him all night. When God see that Jacob isn’t going give up, he dislocates
his hip, but still Jacob won’t release his grip. “I’m not letting you go until you’ve
blessed me,” he insists. God asks, “What’s your name?” Then he says, “Your name
will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you’ve struggled with God and
humans and have overcome.” And lest we are in any doubt that this is God
speaking, the story ends with Jacob saying in wonderment, “I’ve seen God face
to face, and lived to tell the tale.”
So what can we learn from
this? Do this story and the others like it give us permission to
question, to challenge, to struggle with God?
We have to be careful in
answering a question like this. God is God. He is holy, perfect in
wisdom and righteousness. Our most basic duty as Christians is to submit humbly
to his will. And yet many of us, at some point in our lives, will face
situations in which we really cannot understand what he is doing. Some-times we
can’t feel his hand on our lives even when we know as an abstract truth that he
is there. Sometimes, even as we acknowledge his supreme wisdom, we can feel
angry at what he has allowed to happen: the loss of a loved one, a large scale
loss of life somewhere in the world, or the relentless grind of poverty and hunger
and oppression in which the poor continue to suffer and the guilty never seem
to get punished.
And then, I believe, God
is pleased for us to be honest, to cry out to him, to ask him what on earth he
was doing allowing such and such to happen. To admit that we don’t understand.
To confess that we are angry. To plead with him time and time again to show us
the love and power that we associate with his name.
This morning, the
children in the 10.30 congregation are thinking about the lovely parable of the
persistent neighbour: the pushy fellow who keeps hammering on a neighbour’s
door in the middle of the night shouting, come on, open up, I need a favour. He
goes on and on, ignoring the householder’s pleas to be allowed to go back to
sleep. Until in the end, Jesus says, the disgruntled householder gets up and
gives the pushy neighbour what he wants. Not for the sake of friendship, Jesus
adds, but for the sake of peace and quiet.
Jesus tells this story
with his tongue firmly implanted in his cheek, of course. The grumpy householder
is meant to represent God. But Jesus isn’t saying that God is like a grumpy
neighbour who gives us what we ask for just to shut us up. He’s making a more
subtle point: If a grumpy human neighbour will get up in the middle of the
night to help you just because you keep on nagging him, how much more will our
loving father God respond to those who keep on and on talking to him.
Thus it’s not just in the OT
that we see people being persistent in their dialogue with God. Jesus himself
gives us permission to keep on and on asking for what we need. He never
promises that God will give us exactly what we ask for. I’ve know so many
people ask God for cars, exam passes, freedom from the consequences of their
actions… God will not automatically grant our precise requests. But where Jesus
does give us assurance is that if we carry on talking to God, if we carry on
putting our case, if we ask God searching, honest questions and go on and on
asking for the things we need, two things will reliably happen.
Firstly, he will give us
what he knows in his wisdom that we need. Secondly, in the course of that open,
honest dialogue with him, we will come to understand his purposes, We’ll see
answers to prayer in ways and places we never expected. And above all, we will
feel his hand, his peace, his blessing on our lives.
Let’s bow our heads in
prayer….
No comments:
Post a Comment