READING:
Genesis 32:22–31e 17:11–19

The Wrestling Match

I wonder if you can remember a time when you had fallen out with someone, knowing deep down that you were more in the wrong  – and then realised you were about to meet them again. Can you remember how you felt?

That’s exactly the situation Jacob finds himself in today. Some years earlier, he had tricked his brother Esau out of his birthright and blessing. Now, returning home with his family, Jacob hears that Esau is coming to meet him – and that he has four hundred men with him. Jacob has two choices: to fight, which he cannot win, or to seek peace. He chooses the latter, sending ahead gifts to try to appease his brother. Yet, as night falls, he remains anxious and afraid of what the morning will bring.

Out in the wilderness, Jacob is left alone. In the darkness, he is visited by a mysterious stranger, and the two wrestle through the night. The story is both physical and symbolic – a struggle not just with another person, but with his own heart, his past, and perhaps with God. The conflict within Jacob mirrors the turmoil of conscience, guilt, fear, and hope that many of us experience. At dawn, as the stranger blesses him, Jacob realises he has been in the presence of the divine: “I have seen God face to face.”

Such struggles are often part of the human experience. I wonder if you find any echoes with either of the following two stories.

Judith has wrestled with herself for years. A difficult family upbringing left her unsettled and uncertain of her worth. School was a struggle, and she never gained the qualifications that might have helped her find steady work. Emotionally starved, she entered a relationship with the first person who showed her affection — but he was unreliable and unkind. To numb her pain, she turned to alcohol.

Eventually, Judith joined an AA group, where she found understanding and support. One member was a Christian who encouraged her to visit a local church. Slowly, a fragile faith began to grow. Though her struggles continue, she now speaks of glimpsing God’s presence through the care and acceptance of others. Her wrestling has become the ground where grace takes root.

The other is Peter, a lifelong churchgoer and sincere believer. When his sister was diagnosed with cancer, Peter prayed earnestly for her recovery. For a while, treatment seemed to work, and he was thankful. But when the illness returned and she was given a terminal diagnosis, Peter was devastated. His prayers turned to anger and bewilderment. How could God allow this?

Over time, his prayer changed. He found himself speaking less and sitting more often in silence. Gradually, that silence became a place of peace rather than protest. Peter noticed that he was becoming gentler, more compassionate. Instead of being angry with doctors or fate, he spent time with his sister — listening, remembering, and laughing together. His wrestling with God had not given him answers, but it had changed his heart.

Judith and Peter’s stories echo Jacob’s. Both show how our inner struggles — with ourselves, with others, or with God — can be the very places where grace is at work. The struggle may leave us limping, yet it can also leave us blessed.

In 1940, the artist Jacob Epstein sculpted Jacob Wrestling with the Angel, now in Tate Britain. The two figures are powerful and raw — Jacob weary and half-supported by the angel’s embrace. Epstein made it during the Second World War, when London was under attack and hope was fragile.

Was the sculptor using his work to point beyond the struggles between siblings at a personal level to conflicts between communities and even wars between nations. If this is so then I wonder how it is possible to see these struggles also as being ones in which God may be present.

Jacob’s night of wrestling leaves two marks upon him. First, he walks away with a limp — a physical reminder that encounters with God do not leave us unchanged. Wounds can become signs of grace. Secondly, Jacob renames the place Peniel, meaning “the face of God”, because he has seen God and lived.

And what of the morning? When Jacob finally meets Esau, he expects the worst. Instead, Esau runs to meet him, embraces him, and weeps. The brother who was betrayed welcomes the one who betrayed him. Jacob is astonished by such mercy. He says to Esau, “To see your face is like seeing the face of God.”

That is the moment of transformation — when reconciliation becomes revelation. Through forgiveness, Jacob recognises God’s likeness in his brother.

This story reminds us that God meets us not only in prayer or worship but also in the difficult, messy places of relationship — in conflict, grief, and fear. Our wrestling may be exhausting, but it can lead to blessing if we stay with it. The limp may remain, but so too does the grace.

I wonder what it means for us to wrestle with God today. Perhaps it’s the struggle to forgive someone who has hurt us, or to face the truth about ourselves. Perhaps it’s the tension between faith and doubt, between what we hope for and what actually happens. Perhaps it’s the courage to keep praying when nothing seems to change.

Jacob’s story encourages us not to run away from those struggles. The night may be long, but dawn will come — and with it, the possibility of blessing.

And when it does, perhaps we too will find that our wounds have become signs of grace, that reconciliation is possible, and that even in the faces of those we find most difficult, we might glimpse something of God.

I wonder…

• I wonder who, in your life, might be saying to you — or hearing from you — “to see your face is like seeing the face of God.”
• I wonder what kind of “night wrestling” you have known — with fear, guilt, or faith itself.
• I wonder where, like Jacob, you have met God without recognising it at first.
• I wonder what blessing might be waiting within your struggle.

Photo Credit: Getty Images (Unsplash.com)