The God Wrestlers

            The most natural response anyone could have to last fall’s rampage of the Washington area snipers is anger.  And though we are called to forgive our enemies, we certainly ought to be angry at their sins, especially sins against the innocent.  We know that anger has its place because God has shown it as both the Father (Exodus 32:10), and the Son (Matthew 21:12-13).  Though many of us suffer from short tempers and all of us sometimes get angry for the wrong reasons, it is right for us to get mad when someone does something wrong.

            What happens, though, when God does something wrong?

            STOP RIGHT THERE!  What are you saying?  God doesn’t do anything wrong!

            And that is where the problem begins.  We know God is good.  But sometimes things happen and we get angry: Sometimes tornados devour homes and lives. Sometimes disease strikes, accidents happen, babies are born with deformities, careers are destroyed and retirement nets decimated.  Sometimes relationships are ruined, or dreams are lost through no fault of our own.  Sometimes our children die.

We could easily fling our fury at the devil, but if even he answers to God, then what isn’t God in control of, and what doesn’t He allow?

And immediately we know that we cannot possibly be angry at God but that’s exactly what we are, and so we consider ourselves the worst of sinners, piling guilt on top of the anger; or we hide the truth from ourselves (not to mention everyone else), refusing to admit it, afraid God will punish us for our anger.  Some just stop believing in Him at all.  Others, honest enough to admit their anger, writhe and seethe: “I know God is there; that’s the problem.  Because I can stand here and demand to know why He let this happen.  And why doesn’t He answer? Why won’t He speak?”

And these people are the most alone of all.  They can’t admit to their well-wishing

church friends the thought that is creeping around in the back of their heads, a thought they hardly dare to think but keeps pushing itself out, as if the lips have to speak it before the head explodes: “It is God’s fault. He has sinned against me.”

            Like you, I have suffered.  And I know that so many of you have hurt more than I ever will.  I won’t pretend to understand.  But I think I once stumbled upon the answer to what you do when the impossible becomes part of your life.  What do you do when you’re angry at God?  The answer starts in Genesis:

Then Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.  And when he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he touched the socket of his thigh; so the socket of Jacob’s thigh was dislocated while he wrestled with him.  Then he said, “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking.”  But he said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”  So he said to him, “What is your name?”  And he said, “Jacob.”  And he said, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have striven with God and with men and have prevailed. [. . .] And he blessed him there.” (32:24-30)

            It’s probably been ten years but I can still remember the moment that the word Israel stood out as the key to this passage and many others like it.

            What had never occurred to me before was that, since this word, which means “he who wrestles with God,” became the name of God’s chosen people, then the idea of wrestling with God just might be important to Christian spirituality.  Out of a single obscure event, Jacob’s entire life was changed (signified by the changing of his name), and out of the man, Israel, an entire nation was named.  The Hebrews were not called Abraham after their first forefather, nor were they Isaac (who showed much better character than Jacob did).  They were named Israel.  Maybe this was so because the Israelites wrestled with God at every turn, defying His will and testing His patience.  But the renaming of Jacob is a deeply spiritual moment and appears to be a very positive experience, one that is meant to be carried over into the lives of Christians.  Romans 9:6-7 and Galatians 6:15-16 suggest that Christians are the new “Israel of God.”  So the word Israel must mean something that applies to our spiritual walk in Christ today.  And I think what it means has to do with the idea of wrestling with God.

            Jacob had been a deceiver all his life.  He deceived his brother Esau of his birth right and blessing, and his uncle Laban of numerous cattle.  Finally, he was returning home to face his brother—no more running, no more lies.  The night before his reunion, he was left alone to consider the reality he must at last confront with complete honesty.  In that moment, he wrestled with God.  Afterward, he was forever changed for the good.

            Today we don’t wrestle with God physically but spiritually.  From the mystery of Jacob’s encounter we can learn at least two things: First, wrestling with God has something to do with honesty (Jacob’s life as a deceiver ended that night); our own spiritual wrestling, then, must also involve honesty with God.  Second, wrestling with God hurts; Jacob paid the price of a dislocated hip for daring to do it.  It’s as if to wrestle—to doubt, to question, to be angry with God—is at once something we deserve to be punished for, but somehow also good for us.

            Maybe our first impulse is to think that we should faithfully follow statements like those that Peter or James make which say that our sufferings are to be considered a Joy (1 Peter 1:6, James 1:2), that Christians should not wrestle with God because doing so indicates disobedience and a lack of faith.  I would think so except for the repeated appearance and major significance of the word, Israel.  But how could wrestling with God be both good and bad?

            The first time I read Job, I thought the devil had won!  The story begins with an argument between God and Satan in which the adversary claims that Job will curse God to His face if he is afflicted (1:8-11).  Everything that follows is a test of whether or not Job will reject the Lord.  After losing everything, including his children, he does not curse God; however, he hardly accepts his fate with what we might call Christian Joy.  Not only does Job complain incessantly (7:17-20), he even wants to argue with God (23:3-7).  Job complains so much that God finally appears to stifle his presumption saying, “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge.  Now gird up your loins like a man, and I will ask you and you instruct me!” (38:2-3).

            The sarcasm here is that, for the next four chapters, it is God who instructs Job as to the vast differences between them, that Job is utterly incapable of finding a position from which to argue with God.  Job agrees in chapter 42 and repents.  Remember, though, that the book’s events have been about proving Job would not reject God.  Yet God has to show up and shut him up apparently indicating that Job has failed the test, and Satan has won the bet.  But then two puzzling things happen.  First, God is angry at Job’s friends for their bad advice to Job (42:7-8) which included warnings against his desire to contend with the Lord.  Second, God blesses Job (Job 42:10-17), and what other reason can there be for this than that Job fulfilled the Lord’s expectations?  But if this is the case, how are we to read Job’s words and God’s rebuke?

            Only that God in some way wanted Job to wrestle with Him despite the apparent lack of faith.  As Jacob wrestled in body with God, receiving a blessing and a disjointed hip, so Job wrestles spiritually with God, receiving a stern lecture and a doubled return on his wealth, health, and children.  Why was Job right?  Because he was honest; because he didn’t turn away from God, nor curse Him to His face when He finally did show up.  Job could’ve refused to admit his anger; that would’ve made him a liar.  Fear of admitting that we’re angry at God doesn’t make our anger go away.  To admit to God, “I’m mad at you,” is a frightening thing.  But it is the beginning of wrestling our way back to Him. Job could’ve also refused to have anything to do with God, that is, he could’ve rejected God completely.  Then Satan would’ve won.¹

Punishment and Blessing

            When we’ve been taught to trust and obey, how is it possible that true children of Israel are God wrestlers?  Perhaps its something like this: in a fallen world, a world of pain and heartache, a world where the most devoted believers might some time think “God, what are you doing?” or “God, how could you?”—in a world where babies die, and dreams are broken, I think God would rather have people who wrestle their way into submission and surrender than people who will not admit their anger, or who abandon Him altogether.  The world is broken; people weren’t originally meant to live in a broken world.  When we experience or observe the evils of the fall, we are disturbed to the center of our souls.  We wonder if God somewhere, somehow made a mistake, or why it is He won’t just correct Adam’s fall, and put an end to all this pain.  And so we wrestle, feeling such outrage, such pain, that we can do nothing but demand answers of Him, while loving Him, believing in Him so much that we know there’s no other answer but Him.

            In the end, I know that I can’t answer your pain.  Even God didn’t try to answer it; He just said, “Here’s Who I am,” as if to say, “I am the answer.”  Maybe that doesn’t satisfy.  But if God isn’t the answer, then where can you go?  If God isn’t there or doesn’t care, then pain and loss have no answer. They just exist, and they don’t mean anything.  And neither, then, does your anger.  You’ll be mad, and there will be no one to blame.  But worse, no one to heal you.  I’ve been hurt, though not like some of you.  In the worst of mine I’ve wrestled and there has been blessing, though hard to describe.  I end up saying something like, “God I think You’re wrong.  But I’m grateful You’ll live with me where I am.  The only way my pain can make sense is with You.  Where else would I turn anyway (and that’s part of why I’m mad!)?  Yes, God, I’m mad at You.  But somehow I get from Your willingness to let me be honest with You, a sense, maybe even a peace, God, that You really do love me.  I can live with that if You can.”

¹ For more examples of faithful men who wrestled with God see Habakkuk 1-2; Psalms 12, 22, and 77; and Jeremiah 20.

Charlie's book Honest to God focuses on this topic, so check it out if you liked what you just read!