Saturday, July 30, 2011

Limping Along

We are home. Maddie and I arrived home a couple of hours ago, from a week at Anderson University and the Epworth Forest Choir School (don’t ask) experience. There was worship and music, fellowship and fun, a concert or two, lots of laughter and a few tears here and there along the way. And a lot of humidity. We have unpacked (Well, I did (even managed to do the things on the list that La Donna wrote out before she left for School of Christian Mission at DePauw University. And you’ll have to ask her what her week included.) But I’m not vouching for Maddie at this point. She muttered something about catching up to all the shows she recorded while we were gone. We may not see her for days) and now I am turning to the computer to write this weekly email missive.

And dozing off while I sit here staring at a blank page. I’m more tired that I realized. It was quite a hectic schedule this past week, late nights and early mornings. It was fun, more than that it was powerful, sustaining, uplifting and I’d invite any and all of the congregation at Aldersgate and beyond to join me there next year for more. But I’m exhausted. We’re exhausted. And moving a little slowly at the moment.

You would think that something so wonderful would leave us up, lively, excited and ready for something more. And we are. Sort of. Sometime soon. Later. Much later. How’s this: inside I am jumping for joy, inside I am content and refreshed, brought back into the presence of Christ. My spirit sings with God’s Spirit right now. I have been blessed beyond description. But I am limping a little bit from the experience.

Just like Jacob. Our passage for Sunday is the story of the wrestling match of the ages. Take a look:

Genesis 32:22-31 The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. 23 He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 24 Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26 Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." 27 So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." 28 Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." 29 Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. 30 So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." 31 The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

I’ve always found this a sad story, and not just because of the limping thing. We’ll get back to that in a moment. For now we need to back up and remember what brought Jacob to this lonely river bank wrestling match.

If you recall, Jacob ran away from home, urged on by his mother and encouraged by his father, because he had stolen the blessing that was rightly due to his brother Esau. And Esau didn’t take it well. To say the least. So, Jacob hightailed it out of town. Headed off to some cousins in the swinging town of Paddam-aram.

Jacob did well there and now he is heading back with wives and concubines, and children galore, but livestock and servants and more wealth than anyone could shake a stick at. And least that is what Jacob hopes, since the last time he saw his brother - in the rearview mirror - he was shaking big sticks. So, he’s come back to show that he is a bigger man than he was. He has done well, which must mean God is blessing him. And if God is blessing him then surely Esau could too.

Our passage begins “That same day...” What it was the same day as is the setting aside of what is essentially a bribe for Esau. He is sending head a gift so overwhelming that no one could stay mad at the giver. Again - at least Jacob hopes.

So, he sends off the bribe - I mean the gift. And then he sends his wives and children on ahead so that he can sit and contemplate his fate all night long. And a man, says the story, a man wrestled with him all night long. Who is this man? It doesn’t really say – clearly anyway. Oh, we look at the words this mysterious man says when he renamed Jacob “You have striven with God...” And we say it must have been God, Jacob wrestled with God. Others say that is was a representative of God, an angel who wrestled Jacob there on Jabbok’s Ford.

The story says a man. And the naming says “You have striven with God and humans and have prevailed.” And with humans. What if it wasn’t God after all? Or what if this representative was someone Jacob knew, which is why he needed to get away before the sun came up? What if it was Esau come to help Jacob work through things? What if God sent Esau to his brother and let him bring a blessing?

Crazy, I know. But if you read on you see that Esau is in a much better place than Jacob is, at least in terms of spirit and inner peace. So, maybe. But I don’t really mean to contradict centuries of biblical interpretation. Did I mention I was exhausted? Blessed but exhausted. And my blessings came to me through the means of many brothers and sisters in the faith. But they cost something, time and energy and effort. No, I’m not talking about a transaction, about buying our blessings. I’m talking about the reality that blessings don’t usually come to us when we are reclining at our ease. Instead we sense blessings when we expend ourselves, when we pour ourselves out in service, when we engage in some effort, and yeah, sometimes it feels like wrestling with the very ones we are trying to serve, the very ones who will bless us if we keep at it. If, like Jacob, we refuse to let go. Despite the pain, despite the struggle, despite the sapping of energy, we hold on for the blessing.

And it will come. That’s part of the promise, and the hope. That’s part of the joy and the peace. Now, I’m going to limp out of here and go collapse for a while.

Shalom,
Derek

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