The One Place I Learned to Wrestle With God

and Dared to Say My Name

Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves. (Genesis 11:4a)

I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. (Genesis 12:2)

The day I signed up for the Maratón Internacional de Viña del Mar was one of the most surreal moments of my life. I would be running this race in my hometown the week before my 30th high school reunion. The reunion organizers were even willing to work around the marathon so that I could fulfill this crazy dream.

This race was supposed to be the climax of my thousands of miles covered during the previous nine years, a recompense for the discipline, sweat, tears, aches, and lost sleep. I would collect my most prized race t-shirt and finisher-medal. I was going to secure a personal record, and it would be magical!

Sadly, just a few of weeks into my training, I got injured. If you are a runner, I heard you groan; if not, you should have. In a nutshell, some ongoing stiffness and stubbornness in my left gluteus muscles were pinching my sciatic nerve. This created other issues that resulted in my falling further and further behind in my training. I was quite convinced that I wasn’t even going to be able to run it at all. My giddiness turned to dread. My imaginary promised bliss transformed into a bleak future. There was no consolation prize that could ever make up for the disillusionment I was experiencing.

Despite the fact that I was heartbroken, I decided I would not let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity be spoiled by my not-so-stellar circumstances. I pushed through the pain, adjusted my training, and resolved to give the race a try anyway.

I packed my bags, and headed to the land where part of my soul still resides–the land of my birth and youth, Chile.

The big day soon arrived. My lifelong friend, Marcela, had the race morning schedule all planned out. We got up early, took routes that sidestepped the heavy traffic, and landed a perfect parking spot. October 2, 2016, was a perfect day for a race. The Pacific coast welcomed me with its predictable morning haze that I knew would soon obediently give way to sunny skies. The breeze embraced me with the familiar whiff of salt and seaweed. Carrying a slight knot in my stomach, I wiggled my way into the swarm and hum of shuffling feet, and found my place among the sea of people.

Although not my best half-marathon pace, I took off in keeping within my realistic goal. But shortly after the halfway point, I started to fall apart. My knee began to complain, and soon after, my stomach joined in the lament. Even though I was forced by discomfort and exhaustion to walk most of the last six miles of the race, I turned my focus to my surroundings and promised myself to soak in every smell, relish the sight of every palm tree, and memorize the sound of every crashing wave.

I wanted to finish with no regrets, but there was a part of me that was undeniably crushed. My pride suffered greatly. Later, every time I described my experience, I had to force myself to smile as I painfully bit the word failure off my tongue. I always made sure the words injury and considerably less training time were strategically woven into my conversations. I loved the experience of being there, but was deeply heartbroken by the results and ashamed of my deficiency.

After I returned home, and the high of the trip as a whole was over, running not only ceased to to bring me joy, but it became a dreadful burden. As the weeks went by, my miles decreased more and more until they were no more.

Sadly, I began to understand that what was once a good and healthy practice in my life had become a chasing after something that was meant to be given to me by God, and God alone. I look back on those running days, and in hindsight, I see how running had not made me what I wanted it to make me. It had disappointed me and abandoned me. So I abandoned it.

I grew weary and stopped running.

***

In the Old Testament, nestled between the story of the flood–a story of judgement and mercy–and the story of Abraham is the short yet very familiar story of the tower of Babel.

True to humanity’s natural inclination towards a life independent of God, the people of Shinar (Babel) decide to build a “tower that reaches the heavens” in an attempt to make a name for themselves. God, however, in yet another act of judgement and mercy, breaks off their rebellion by scattering humanity “over the face of the whole earth.”

After the stories of the flood, Babel, and Abraham, we finish Genesis chapter 11 by reading the generations from Noah’s son Shem all the way to Abraham. It is in Chapter 12 where we read this amazing promise from God to Abraham and his descendants:

“I will make you into a great nation

and I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

and you will be a blessing.” (Genesis 12:2)

This promise is what humanity has been wanting all along: a name and a blessing. But this time it must begin with and come from God, and God alone.

The story about Abraham and his descendants continues on. I have always loved reading through it, especially Genesis and Exodus. But about a year after my visit to Chile, after many determined attempts to start back into running and frustrating stops and weariness, I once again ran across a short, yet very curious chronicle in Genesis 32:22-31 about a night-long wrestling match between Jacob (Abraham’s grandson) and a man. This encounter culminates with a broken hip socket, a blessing, and a new name. The story drew me in deeply, and I sensed it was due my attention. There was something about the whole wrestling with God thing that rang true to me. Receiving blessing and being changed by His touch were things I longed for.

Jacob was born a twin. During Rebekah’s pregnancy, “The babies jostled each other within her” (25:22).  She went to the Lord to inquire about it, and He told her that the eldest of the two (Esau) would serve the younger (Jacob). Jacob is born grasping Esau’s heel, a symbol of his lifetime of clinging to get something he so desperately longed for.

Even though God himself had foretold Jacob’s position (which no doubt his controlling mother had told him about), he went about his life manipulating and scheming to snatch up what God had already declared he possessed. He convinced his brother to sell him his birthright for a bowl of stew, and then went along with his mother’s plot to trick his father, Isaac, into bestowing on him the blessing, which he was planning on giving Esau.

Fast forward a few years, two wives, two concubines, and 11 children later, and we encounter a very wealthy Jacob on a journey. He has left his father-in-law, and is on his way to an independent life elsewhere with his own family.

Genesis 32:22-31

I find in my own life embarrassingly similar parallels with Jacob’s.

I too carry a promise of a blessing that at times doesn’t jive with the expectations of what I think it should look like. I say I know who I am in Christ, but I refuse to believe and live in it. Like Jacob (and his mother, for that matter), I don’t trust what He has promised, and I work hard to “help Him out.” I live my life grasping, clinging, manipulating, and scheming to get what I want. I think I know what my life should look like, so I work hard to earn just that. Self-determination and discipline become virtues to exploit, and I begin to trust in them, and believe that they will someday pay off.  

But just like so many have proved before me, and will foolishly continue to prove after, anything we try to accomplish on our own in order to earn what we think we want and deserve, will soon either come crashing down, or will disillusion us. This is what idols do in our life. We count on them, we place our confidence in them, until, without realizing what we are doing, we are indeed worshiping them.

Running, a place where I meant to meet God, ended up being a place where I was only interested in meeting myself and my accomplishments. In the end, though, it brought me to my knees. My physical pain and my crushed ego left me in a very vulnerable and lonely place. I needed to be reminded of who I really was. I needed to be reminded of my true purpose and promise. I got quiet, and waited. It was in those quiet, vulnerable places that He came. He came to me and met me in my lonely, desperate prayers.

And I wrestled. My will against His.

I wanted to give up. His strength kept me in the fight until His will broke mine.

***

You see, just like Jacob and the people of Babel, we live our lives trying to make a name for ourselves. We study to be scholars, we work hard to move up the corporate ladder, we make our products, we raise our “good” kids, and we sculpt our bodies. But, as we earn our doctorates, run our marathons, make our crafts, and teach our kids, our motives get easily twisted and we lose sight of whom we have been created to be, and keep striving to define who we are and what we want to be known for on our own.

Soon enough, our foolishness catches up with us, and the day arrives when our work gets crushed or we feel dissatisfied because it is not delivering what we expected to get. This is when we grow weary; this is when our egos get crushed. And what we do next is crucial.

There is certainly more to my story, and there are other towers I try to build to reach heaven, but there is not enough time or space to speak of those here. But suffice it to say for now that I would not, could not give up. I knew there was an unmet longing, and I realized that my obsession with running had fallen short of making me special, unique, blessed, someone with a “name.” So, I kept wrestling until His touch broke my will. I knew then that  only God could give me what I so desperately longed for, so I said to Him, “I will not let go until you bless me.”

But, just like the man Jacob wrestled, this is what He answered: “What is your name?”

My name is Jacob, the usurper.

I have overthrown you from your throne and taken your place. I worship myself, and I want others to worship me. I am an opportunist, and I will seek to find my identity in my accomplishments on my own even if I have to deceive myself, others, or even try to deceive you.

How foolish.

I am a selfish mother.

I am a liar.

I am greedy.

I am a selfish wife.

I am filled with envy.

I am a glutton.

I am a thief.

I want to make a name for myself.

And He answered back to me:“Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome” (Genesis 32:38).

My story is about confession and repentance. You see, He knew my name. He just wanted me to acknowledge that I knew it too. I was given the strength to confront my past and grace to face my future. A future with a new name, the name that only He could give me.

But there is more, because this is where Jesus shows up.  It is at the cross that in repentance we receive His strength and get a new name.

Jesus.

Although this is a story about Jacob and the man, and this is a story about me and God, this is actually a story about Jesus, and about the cross. There, Christ fought and was broken so that we would no longer have to be. It is there that he tells us that even when we keep behaving like Jacob, we are still named Israel–meaning strong and conqueror–through Him. At the cross, in repentance we receive His blessing. It is at the empty grave that we are declared conquerors.

We don’t have to reach up to the heavens to get what God has promised to give us. He came down to bless us here in the loneliness of our spirit. Go to the cross and and thank Him for fighting for you. Tell Him your name, and He will give you a new one. Go to the empty grave and declare victory in Him.

***

There was nothing wrong with my running. I believe that I need to take care of my body, to exercise and eat right, study, and work hard. God gave me the gift of learning, earning, raising precious children, and all kinds of gifts and pleasures where I can honor Him, glorify Him, and bear His image.The problem came when I strove to “do” in order to try to get something that I already had: a blessing, significance, an identity, and a rightful place in God’s grace–sufficiency in Him.

I want to run again, and I probably will. But instead of running to manipulate other people’s opinions of me, scheme to earn approval, or make a name for myself, I will run, like I used to, to find satisfaction in God. I will run to learn, and worship, and through His gifts trust in the name that He has already given me.

What are you building to try to reach the heavens? How are you trying to make a name for yourself?

Perhaps it’s time to ask God to come meet you where you are. Ask Him to give you the strength to trust in the work that Christ did on the cross, where He wrestled for you, was bruised for you, and won the battle for you. Tell Him your name, and ask Him to give you the new one he bought for you.