When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God.
One of the great guarantees in life is that when you ask for a volunteer in an elementary chapel service, all the kindergartners’ hands go up. So, I chose one, delight twinkled in his eyes as he pushed past his little compatriots to come forward with his teacher. Striding confidently, he made his way toward me, staring at his little classmates as he preened in front of them. Then he looked me in the eyes, and I said…
“Let’s wrestle.”
I’m near six feet tall, around two hundred pounds, and work out five times a week. I’m not a small man. When that little, young man looked up at me, he began to tremor as if God had worked a little earthquake right beneath the soles of his feet. He shook his head quickly and tried to turn around, but his teacher blocked his path.
“Let’s wrestle,” I repeated. This time, he buried his face in her shoulder, refusing to look at me, but shaking his head back and forth into her shirt.
Then I got down on a knee with my softest voice and said, “Would it help if we turned off all the lights?” Nearly all of the students were in on this now, and rapt with fear that their little buddy was about to perish. “No!” they all whispered.
Then I stood up and, with the lights of the church shining on my Mr. Clean head, said to everyone as kindly as I could:
“I’m really scary until you get to know me.”
If I’d had my way, the little boy would turn around, comprehend what I was saying, and then let me envelop him in my arms…
But that did not happen.
Because we never lead with wrestling. That takes time.
Consider Jacob’s match. He’d been born a wrestler, grasping, clawing at the heel of his brother as they took on life outside the womb. He’d encountered the angels of God at Bethel. He had heard repeated promises from his grandpa and dad, though he received the blessing somewhat begrudgingly. All his life, he had known that God assured him to be a part of the line of God’s grace. So, when the messenger of God shows up in the darkness at Jabbok, Jacob knows he’s scary, and yet, he’s not afraid.
God doesn’t lead with wrestling, and he doesn’t desire us to do that either. When we encounter someone with a five-year-old faith, we aren’t supposed to begin pulling on the singlet and getting ready for a tussle. Just because we are desperate for another to believe, we shouldn’t step on the mat immediately for a spiritual match.
When the “messenger from God” actually took on flesh, he didn’t go straight to the cross. People would have been puzzled seeing a crucified infant. Over the course of his three decades, though, Jesus did some pretty scary (remarkable) things. He fed five thousand people. He walked on water. He touched a leper. Through all of this, he was saying:
“I’m pretty scary until you get to know me.”
But once you get to know him, we, like Jacob, beg for a blessing. We ask that he’d wrestle us to the cross and the empty tomb, which are utterly frightening. When we consider our own end, it will not bring us into a final wrestling match with the messenger of God, but into the embrace of the Messiah of God. Followed only by the blessing: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
