I wonder if you can remember a time you asked a question about God or the Bible. Perhaps it was as a small kid in Sunday School, or as a curious or disinterested Confirmation student, or as an adult. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never felt comfortable asking a question out loud about God or the Bible. Whenever it was, I wonder what the response was. Were your questions welcomed? Were you invited to explore together, or to consider the possible answers? Or were you met with wide eyes and furtive whispers - “We don’t ask things like that here. Now be quiet and just listen to the pastor.”
There is a commonly held view of God and of the Bible that sees any kind of questioning or disagreement as an unwelcome challenge to authority and a sign of weak faith. When we dare raise concerns about the questionable violence in some of the stories of Scripture, or cry out in anger at God in response to a loved one taken tragically and too soon, all too often we are placated by well-meaning people who assure us that God has a plan and we just can’t see the whole picture and so we must sit quietly and rely on our faith because that’s what good Christians do. Don’t ask questions. Don’t wrestle. Just trust what you’re told.
Well, guess what. I’m not buying it. Do we really think that we somehow need to shield God from human questions, or anguish, or wrath? Do we really think that the living word of God that is our Scriptures is so fragile that it cannot withstand some poking and prodding?
I love this story from Genesis 32 for just the way it paints the striving and wrestling we are invited and encouraged to practice. The wrestling that Jacob engages in has allowed him to see God face to face. And isn’t the same thing true for us? It is in the wrestling, striving, and stubborn tenacity of our questions and conversations that we too see God face to face and receive a blessing. We are mindful that this wrestling is not without risk, for any and every encounter with God leaves us transformed, whether we are given a new name or left limping and out-of-joint.
Jacob is a fascinating character in the narrative of Genesis. Grandson of Abraham and Sarah, son of Isaac and Rebekah, twin brother of Esau, Jacob learns early on to rely on his wits and trickery to get through life. After stealing the birthright and the blessing from their dying father that were rightfully Esau’s as the eldest son, Jacob flees to his uncle Laban’s house to escape Esau’s threats to kill him.
Years go by, and Jacob becomes very wealthy. He has two wives and two enslaved women who have together borne him eleven children. He owns more enslaved people and large flocks, much of which he has amassed through his cunning at Laban’s expense. As he falls out of favor with Laban, the Lord instructs Jacob to “return to the land of your ancestors and your kindred, and I will be with you.”
Even with the promise of God’s presence, Jacob is afraid. Jacob remembers the less-than-honest ways he treated his brother AND the threats that resulted, and he is fairly certain that Esau remembers as well. Jacob becomes even more afraid when messengers he sent ahead of him return with the news that Esau is waiting, with an army of 400 men. Jacob sends some of his flocks and herds as a gift for Esau, hoping that this gift will appease Esau’s anger. Then Jacob sends everyone in his party across the river Jabbock and is left alone.
When a figure appears, he and Jacob wrestle until the sun rises. Even after his hip is put out of joint, Jacob holds on, demanding a blessing. And he gets one - a new name, Israel, that bears witness to this encounter and to Jacob’s whole life, for he has striven with God and with humans and has prevailed. Jacob, whose blessings up until this point have come through trickery and dishonesty, finally has a blessing that is really his own.
Thinking back to my earlier question, I wonder what happened when you asked a question about God or the Bible that was shushed or brushed aside. I imagine that perhaps you started to keep your thoughts to yourself. Maybe it felt less complicated to simply write off the entirety of the Scriptures as irrelevant and unnecessary for your life. Perhaps it seemed easier to disengage, and look for answers elsewhere.
The thing about wrestling with things that matter is that it means we’re paying attention; it means that we’re engaged. Wrestling necessitates a relationship, points to the tenacity of holding on tightly and demanding a blessing, even when we feel in over our heads or we’re not sure what’s coming next.
Be assured - wrestling with matters of faith is not a faith-less practice, but rather a faithful practice, especially when that wrestling happens in the midst of community. If you have been afraid to wrestle, if you’ve grown up hearing that wrestling and questioning point to a lack of faith, this is your permission to ask “why?”. If you’ve heard many times that the process of questioning dishonors or threatens God, this is your permission to wrestle with new ideas. This is your permission, your encouragement to ask questions and share ideas and most of all to listen in the midst of this community.
Ask why bad things happen to good people. Ask how we can best engage with our neighbors who come from different faith traditions. Ask about the Bible, about how it came to be and why it makes a difference to read it. Ask why we say what we do when we confess the faith of the church in the words of the Creeds. Ask what it means when we gather around the table and share in Communion. Ask why it’s important that the congregation makes promises when someone is baptized.
I can’t promise that you’ll get all the answers you seek. And I can’t promise that you won’t be put out of joint in the process. But here’s what I can promise - that you will be blessed and transformed by the thinking and questioning and conversing and wrestling you engage in. And that the God who created you and gave you a new name in baptism - “Child of God” – loves you and will be present with you no matter what.
There is a commonly held view of God and of the Bible that sees any kind of questioning or disagreement as an unwelcome challenge to authority and a sign of weak faith. When we dare raise concerns about the questionable violence in some of the stories of Scripture, or cry out in anger at God in response to a loved one taken tragically and too soon, all too often we are placated by well-meaning people who assure us that God has a plan and we just can’t see the whole picture and so we must sit quietly and rely on our faith because that’s what good Christians do. Don’t ask questions. Don’t wrestle. Just trust what you’re told.
Well, guess what. I’m not buying it. Do we really think that we somehow need to shield God from human questions, or anguish, or wrath? Do we really think that the living word of God that is our Scriptures is so fragile that it cannot withstand some poking and prodding?
I love this story from Genesis 32 for just the way it paints the striving and wrestling we are invited and encouraged to practice. The wrestling that Jacob engages in has allowed him to see God face to face. And isn’t the same thing true for us? It is in the wrestling, striving, and stubborn tenacity of our questions and conversations that we too see God face to face and receive a blessing. We are mindful that this wrestling is not without risk, for any and every encounter with God leaves us transformed, whether we are given a new name or left limping and out-of-joint.
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| Jacob Wrestling the Angel by Marc Chagall |
Jacob is a fascinating character in the narrative of Genesis. Grandson of Abraham and Sarah, son of Isaac and Rebekah, twin brother of Esau, Jacob learns early on to rely on his wits and trickery to get through life. After stealing the birthright and the blessing from their dying father that were rightfully Esau’s as the eldest son, Jacob flees to his uncle Laban’s house to escape Esau’s threats to kill him.
Years go by, and Jacob becomes very wealthy. He has two wives and two enslaved women who have together borne him eleven children. He owns more enslaved people and large flocks, much of which he has amassed through his cunning at Laban’s expense. As he falls out of favor with Laban, the Lord instructs Jacob to “return to the land of your ancestors and your kindred, and I will be with you.”
Even with the promise of God’s presence, Jacob is afraid. Jacob remembers the less-than-honest ways he treated his brother AND the threats that resulted, and he is fairly certain that Esau remembers as well. Jacob becomes even more afraid when messengers he sent ahead of him return with the news that Esau is waiting, with an army of 400 men. Jacob sends some of his flocks and herds as a gift for Esau, hoping that this gift will appease Esau’s anger. Then Jacob sends everyone in his party across the river Jabbock and is left alone.
When a figure appears, he and Jacob wrestle until the sun rises. Even after his hip is put out of joint, Jacob holds on, demanding a blessing. And he gets one - a new name, Israel, that bears witness to this encounter and to Jacob’s whole life, for he has striven with God and with humans and has prevailed. Jacob, whose blessings up until this point have come through trickery and dishonesty, finally has a blessing that is really his own.
Thinking back to my earlier question, I wonder what happened when you asked a question about God or the Bible that was shushed or brushed aside. I imagine that perhaps you started to keep your thoughts to yourself. Maybe it felt less complicated to simply write off the entirety of the Scriptures as irrelevant and unnecessary for your life. Perhaps it seemed easier to disengage, and look for answers elsewhere.
The thing about wrestling with things that matter is that it means we’re paying attention; it means that we’re engaged. Wrestling necessitates a relationship, points to the tenacity of holding on tightly and demanding a blessing, even when we feel in over our heads or we’re not sure what’s coming next.
Be assured - wrestling with matters of faith is not a faith-less practice, but rather a faithful practice, especially when that wrestling happens in the midst of community. If you have been afraid to wrestle, if you’ve grown up hearing that wrestling and questioning point to a lack of faith, this is your permission to ask “why?”. If you’ve heard many times that the process of questioning dishonors or threatens God, this is your permission to wrestle with new ideas. This is your permission, your encouragement to ask questions and share ideas and most of all to listen in the midst of this community.
Ask why bad things happen to good people. Ask how we can best engage with our neighbors who come from different faith traditions. Ask about the Bible, about how it came to be and why it makes a difference to read it. Ask why we say what we do when we confess the faith of the church in the words of the Creeds. Ask what it means when we gather around the table and share in Communion. Ask why it’s important that the congregation makes promises when someone is baptized.
I can’t promise that you’ll get all the answers you seek. And I can’t promise that you won’t be put out of joint in the process. But here’s what I can promise - that you will be blessed and transformed by the thinking and questioning and conversing and wrestling you engage in. And that the God who created you and gave you a new name in baptism - “Child of God” – loves you and will be present with you no matter what.
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