The Struggle that Wounds – and Heals

As we gather around today’s readings, a powerful thread emerges: persistence. In Genesis, we encounter Jacob at a crossroads—wrestling not just with a mysterious stranger, but with his past, his fears, and ultimately with God. Out of this struggle comes blessing and transformation.

This morning, I invite us to look closer at Jacob’s story, not merely as an ancient tale, but as a mirror for our own lives. What might this narrative of wrestling, persistence, and blessing teach us today, in our own moments of darkness and struggle?

To appreciate Jacob’s journey, let’s revisit the family history. Remember Abraham and Sarah, who, in desperation for an heir, asked Abraham to father a child with her handmaiden, Hagar. Yet when Isaac was born through God’s promise, Sarah had Hagar and Ishmael sent away to eliminate competition for Isaac. Isaac then married Rebekah, and together they had twin boys—Esau and Jacob. Jacob, favored by Rebekah, conspired with her to trick Isaac into giving him the blessing intended for Esau, stealing his brother’s birthright. In fact, when Isaac who is nearly blind asks his son’s name, Jacob says, “I am Esau, your first born.”

Unsurprisingly, Esau vowed revenge, and Jacob fled to his uncle Laban’s home. On his journey, Jacob dreamed of angels ascending and descending a ladder to heaven—a sign of God’s presence even in exile. At Laban’s, Jacob fell in love with Rachel, but Laban insisted he work seven years to marry her. On the wedding night, Laban deceived Jacob, sending his older daughter Leah into Jacob’s bed instead. Jacob then labored another seven years for Rachel, his true love. Over time, Jacob’s family grew—two wives, two handmaidens, and many children, including Joseph of the colorful coat and dream interpretation. As Jacob prospered, Laban’s sons grew jealous, and threats mounted. Warned in a dream, Jacob gathered his family and wealth and set out for home, hoping for reconciliation but fearing Esau’s wrath.

Jacob, “greatly afraid and distressed,” sent gifts and his whole family ahead, hoping to appease Esau. Alone, Jacob faced himself and all his past actions. It’s here, in his solitude, that Jacob’s mysterious wrestling match takes place. Scripture says, “Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 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.”

Why did Jacob send his family ahead? Debie Thomas, in her blog Journey with Jesus, writes, “All we know is that Jacob is isolated and vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been for a long time. On this lonely night, he can’t hide behind his vast wealth, or his many servants, or his large and complicated family—they’re all gone. He is alone in the dark in a desolate place—until he’s not. Until a nameless, faceless stranger leaps out of nowhere, and throws him to the ground.”

Haven’t we all been there? Struggling in the dark with something that won’t let go? Thomas continues, “Already, the story resonates for me personally. Perhaps it resonates for you, too. How often have you found yourself alone in the dark in a desolate place? How often, in that menacing darkness, have you done solitary battle with something you won’t recognize as God until much, much later?”

Jacob’s persistence stands out. He doesn’t quit when Laban tricks him, nor during his wrestling match. But the struggle leaves him both wounded and humbled. He’s no longer the same; perhaps humility prepared him to seek forgiveness from Esau, not as a proud man, but one in need of grace.

And something I hadn’t even noticed about this story until I read Debie Thomas’ essay is that moment when the stranger Jacob has wrestled with all night asks him his name. Unlike the lie he gave twenty years earlier to his father, he was given a second chance by God to tell the truth. And he does.

Through his persistence, his truth telling, and his willingness to be changed, Jacob isn’t just wounded—he’s blessed and transformed, receiving a new name: Israel.

This strange story gives us hope. Thomas writes, “More than any other story in Scripture, Jacob’s story has helped me to hang on as a Christian. It has given me permission to bring my whole turbulent self before God, and to engage with the Divine in ways that feel contentious before they become consoling.”

We see persistence again in today’s Gospel, where a widow refuses to give up—daily pleading for justice before an indifferent judge. Her relentless pursuit leads to transformation. She, like Jacob, struggles with the only one who can change her life. Like Jacob, she won’t let go until she is blessed. I love that about both figures.

Our Psalm reminds us: “My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” Paul echoes that help comes through our proclamation, patience, and persistence. Sometimes, help arrives through speaking up for ourselves, or through wrestling with unknown forces that leave us changed. But always our struggles are sacred.

Debie Thomas reminds us, “It is with God, and in relationship to God, and in God’s all-encompassing presence that we fight the fights that bend, break, and remake us. It is in God’s company that we face down the demons within and around us. It is God alone who brings us to the ragged edges of our own strength so that finally, finally, we’ll surrender, and allow ourselves to be saved. Whether we recognize the stranger as God or not, God is always the one we struggle with. God is always the one who battles with and against us—not for our detriment, but for our transformation.”

Thomas writes that the story of Jacob “is both a challenge and an invitation to those of us who think our relationship with God has to be smooth and pretty all the time.  It doesn’t. The God of Jacob delights in those who strive with him. The opposite of loving God isn’t fighting him.  The opposite of loving God is not giving enough of a damn to fight.  So don’t worry if you’re wrestling.  Wrestling is our best protection against spiritual apathy.  Wrestling keeps God relevant in our lives — it keeps him personal and a force to reckon with, rather than a dusty relic we stick on a shelf.”

May we always be willing to wrestle. May we always be open to change for the better. May we always persist in faith, trusting the One who transforms us in every struggle.