From “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!”

Today was Palm Sunday, and as I read the text from the Gospels I was struck by a thought.  The same people who were shouting, “Hosanna!” on Sunday were shouting, “Crucify him!” five days later.  How fickle can a person be right?  But the thought that came to me next was even more frightening than the first.

The parade for Jesus was shortly after He had prayed for Lazarus.  Everyone now heard of the man from Galilee Who healed the sick and now recently raised the dead.  How easily these same peoples’ opinion were changed when a different opinion of Christ had been circulated!

My Pastor taught an excellent sermon recently.  He said that it matters not at all who other people say that Jesus is, instead it matters most who you say that Jesus is.  The Pharisees and priests decided that Jesus was a heretic, and at that point everyone else had to decide who Jesus was.

¹³When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?

 ¹⁴And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets.

 ¹⁵He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?

 ¹⁶And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.

 ¹⁷And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.

 ¹⁸And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

As you can see what was important to Jesus was who His disciples thought that He was.

There is danger and trap for many of us, for we shout, “Hosanna!”  when things are going well.  We see Jesus as the King of kings and the Savior of all our circumstances.  But then, when circumstances change, we start to doubt who He is in our lives.  We turn our back on Him, ashamed of the cross, and the man on it.  Maybe difficult times have come, or disappointments in life; or perhaps a “new” doctrine is going around changing the very definition of who Jesus is.  We must not change how we identify with Christ based on circumstances or trendy “doctrine” or we are no better than the fickle Palm Sunday parade crowd.

As long as Jesus was healer and provider it was “Hosanna!”, but as soon as He asked to become “Lord” it was “Crucify Him!”

As long as it was about what He could do for them to make their life better, it was “Hosanna!”, but as soon as it became about what they could do for Him, it was either silence or “Crucify Him!”

The silence continues as people discredit our Lord and we stand by, not saying a word.  And our silence allows the One who paid the ultimate price for us to have His character and reputation questioned and “crucified” making Him nothing more than a Sugar Daddy and when the sugar is gone, we are not willing to identify with Him any longer.

Who do you say that He is?

Celebrating Who He is with dear Ann today:

218. The best Bible Study so far! Changed Lives.

219. My wonderful group of students.

220. An unexpected day out with a friend.

221. Homemade Chicago Hot Dogs…except I forgot the relish…:(

222. My oldest son home from college.

223. An amazingly beautiful bride.

224. Lacey Day continues….

225. Scholarship to Write To Publish!!

226. e-mail from Cecil Murphey!

227. Request for interview for my dream job!!

228. Heart-to-heart with college son.

229. Bringing a guest family to church!

230. Guest goes forward to give her life to Christ!!!!!!!Yay!

231. Finished Hunger Games trilogy so I can return to normal life.

…sharing a playdate with Laura:

…hanging out with L.L.:

and a new face, Rebecca…

When Fear Postpones the Birth of Dreams – Guest Post by Shelly Miller – Painting Prose

What more can I say other than that I adore Shelly’s writing? I am thrilled beyond words to hear her mention the four-letter b word, “book”, and can not wait until she shares her thoughts with the world. Her prose is full of images both visual and experiential. In this piece, I see daffodils waving in the wind, and I feel the heartache of letting a child mature…and as usual, she stirs my emotions with her poetry in prose. Please accept my invitation to visit her beautiful blog…Redemption’s Beauty.

Daffodils stand at attention in perfect rows, their yellow faces saluting the sun. Branches sway windy, waving pink fairy dust as I breathe the beauty of what blurs past my windshield. New life pops confetti on bare branches and today, I let go of my daughter’s hand. Watch her dance the last stanzas of childhood in this circle of life we share.
She turns sixteen today. A day she begins to collect her own packet of seeds to scatter. (Mark 4)
Because aren’t we all farmers of what he gives?
Yesterday I squeezed her dimpled knuckles. Today, wearing wet hair and tall boots, she drives away in her white Volvo with cardboard owl swinging from the mirror, pop music vibrating.
Later, in the quiet empty, I wipe off the syrup pitcher, put her dirty dishes in the sink, notice the pile of cards holding checks from friends stacked neatly beside her place at the bar. Pieces of hope paper stacked for the promise of a mission trip to Jamaica.
Sixteen years ago, H caught me standing in the closet sobbing silent tears over my pregnant stomach. Fear puddled out in knowing what my mind could not comprehend. That this life inside would change me, change us forever. I didn’t know how to master cultivating a successful life.
Who can master a life He gives with a story already written?
A book of invisible pages revealed to the muse in whispers by the author, at the turn of each day.

Last night, I crawl into bed next to my husband, sigh deep and he asks me what I am thinking.
I share my brick on the chest feeling over the birth of this book-writing journey. How words stumble when someone asks me why I haven’t started the book yet. Because I don’t know how to conquer this petrifying perfectionism that needs to know the outcome before I start something new.
Sixteen years later, I am pregnant once again, gasping for breath and knowing I won’t know the outcome about this either. The fear of failure postpones birth.
When He gave me my own packet of seeds all those years ago, they came with simple instructions. Just plant, water and weed. The outcome, well that is His job.
I cannot see all of the beautiful blooms yet on the life that is my daughter; what color they will be, how tall they will grow, how long they will remain on the vine. I cannot linger over the engraved letters on the spine of the book penned in my name, know how many hands will hold it, or how it will transform a life.
But I will continue to do my part: plant, water and weed.
I will wait on Him for the outcome.

But those that were sown on the good soil are the ones who hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold. Mark 4:20 ESV
Are you stuck because of fear of the failure? Has it kept you from birthing a dream?

Please take the time to comment and let Shelly know how much this piece blessed you!

If this is your first time here, let me explain what we are all about. We are a community started by Emily Wierenga. It was called Imperfect Prose. She is on a bit of a vacation as she has some extra responsibilities at the moment.

If you are new, please check out Emily’s blog. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and you need to be acquainted with the woman who made all of this happen!

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Unrejected – Guest Post by Jen Ferguson – Painting Prose

Jen Ferguson has become a real live friend…our friendship has gone so beyond “virtual”. She is one of the sweetest kindest women that I know. Her writing always makes me want to know two people better; her, of course and Jesus. The relationship she has with Him is tangible, and she makes me hungry to pursue Him more…and that is the greatest gift I could find in a relationship.

Jen has a wonderful and caring community called Soli Deo Gloria. They meet on Tuesdays over at her place, Finding Heaven. It is the first linkup community I ever participated in, and I had no idea what I was doing, Jen walked me through. Please make sure to visit her place, you will so much be the better for it.

Sunday was the marathon and on Tuesday, I got an email from the race organizers that the race photos were up. And so I clicked on the link…

As I perused the pictures, I focused not on the fact that countenance of my face revealed that although most of the miles proved hard, they were not impossible. I focused not on the fact that there were thousands of people running and thousands of people cheering. I focused not on the fact that the victory picture of me crossing the finish line showed that I not only finished, but I finished strong.

I focused on none of this. Instead, I had a breakdown about the size and shape of my thighs. Yes, those same legs that carried me through 26.2 miles, I now looked upon with disdain.

Not good enough.
No matter how hard I try…
Why in the world would I buy the pictures that show nothing of my hard work?

This is not the first time that instead of being grateful, I have become a babbling torrent of negativity. Instead of being thankful that my husband has a job, I complain that he has to work late. Instead of being grateful that I’ve sold eight pieces of art, I grumble that business doesn’t seem as busy as it used to be. Instead of building myself up with the truth of God’s word, I let the self-inflicted, injurious barbs shred my perspective, and ultimately, my heart.

With many things, I have been satisfied only when a certain level of perfection is met.  If it is imperfect, even mildly, such as a stray line on a drawing, improper grammar in a belabored sentence, dust in a deep crevice, I have difficulty finding joy in the finished work.  I am compelled to erase, rework, dig deeper, train harder, even if I have been mildly rebuked to simply let it go.

God has been working in me to find the beauty and joy in these imperfections, though.  He teaches me, slowly but surely, how to move on after He has forgiven me of my sin.  He teaches me that the blue painted mug with a few errant strokes of paint that I created still has the capacity to hold my hot tea and that the blemishes hold no baring on its purpose. 

Can He teach me the same about my imperfect body?  My legs have parts that are too fleshy.  They like to store fat in places I really wish they would not.  Cellulite, yes, they have allowed it to reside in that place just below the skin, and right on the front of my thighs for everyone else to see.  The beginnings of spider veins begin to spread their tentacles over my muscular calves.  They do their job, they go above the call, but is this enough for me?

When I search my heart, looking for God’s perspective and not society’s, not my own, I come to this conclusion: Although they are far from perfect, I cannot reject them. 

And this gives me hope. If I, of all people, can learn to love something like my cellulite-ridden legs, God can love me despite my own character flaws.  Because although I am far from perfect, He has promised not to reject me.  He does not stand by and scoff at my short-comings, but rather He fills me with His grace and makes perfect my weakness.  He knows that I am surrendered to Him, that my allegiance is with Him alone.  He knows I have been tried.  I have been tested.  I am fighting the good fight and together, we will win the race.

Isn’t she wonderful? Please take the time to comment and let her know how much this piece blessed you!

If this is your first time here, let me explain what we are all about. We are a community started by Emily Wierenga. It was called Imperfect Prose. She is on a bit of a vacation as she has some extra responsibilities at the moment.

If you are new, please check out Emily’s blog. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and you need to be acquainted with the woman who made all of this happen!

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Crushed, But Not Broken – A Way You Can Help Stop Human Trafficking (remix)- Painting Prose

…and stop crying your heart out by Carine Felgueiras

I recently heard of a young girl, known in my circle of friends.

Not somewhere else

…exotic and distant,

But here, nearby…

a summer’s walk away,

in a house just like mine.

A girl, fiery and opinionated;

Insisted she knew better,

even at the pain of her family.

She left,

 seeking freedom

and Liberation from the tyrannical rules of curfews and text checks.

Looking for love in all the wrong places.

And finding it,

just down the street from me.

Deceitful plagiarism called love.

The monsters deemed friends

had plans for her.

Plans to rape her and rip her heart out…

to strip her of human dignity.

She found herself chained to a bed.

Three. infinity. years.

A sex slave.

Imprisoned beyond imagination.

Treated like waste,

Less than human,

A sheet her only covering.

Passed off as a possession.

Sold for pennies.

Greed used her,

Like a disposable fast food cup,

Crushed, but not broken.

Until…

Grace found her,

Helped her escape.

Ironing out the wrinkles,

He tells her His plan:

A plan for good and not for evil.

His plan to make something beautiful

out of her nearly crushed life.

The greatest miracle of all?

That life can be beautiful again

for one such as this.

Is it more impossible

than the blind seeing,

the deaf hearing?

But butterflies break beyond their cocoon

and flit away to freedom.

Drinking nectar from a flower cup

dancing on the breath of God.

Oh dear one,

dare I hope…

dare I believe

the same for you?

 

 

Please consider purchasing this beautiful cookbook. The recipes are fantastic, (this writer might just have a few in there!) Just click on the picture and proceed to checkout. The proceeds from the profit go towards the Kwagala Project, which helps rescue young women in Africa from human trafficking. To find out more about the incredible story of this cookbook project visit my other blog, What In The World R U Doing 4 Christ’s Sake?

Please feel free to linkup one of your lovely pieces to our loving community. Make sure you encourage a few of the contributors as the Holy Spirit leads you…because He does, you know…

If this is your first time here, let me explain what we are all about. We are a community started by Emily Wierenga. It was called Imperfect Prose. She is on a bit of a vacation as she has some extra responsibilities at the moment.

If you are new, please check out Emily’s blog. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and you need to be acquainted with the woman who made all of this happen!

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The Gate Called Beautiful

You, my dearest, are hurting, pained and unwhole.

You need healing.

And though He said I can lay hands on the sick,

I haven’t often seen success.

I’m only being honest.

But your suffering…your scars…

It’s too much to bystand –

Too much to spectate

without participation.

What can I do?

I don’t have silver or gold to pay for expensive treatment.

I don’t have a faith healer’s faith.

Not. Yet.

But can I bring you to the Gate called Beautiful?

Because I’ve found that

darkness may be crowding out light

and death may be pushing my hopes under

for the

third time.

But

when I am brought to the Gate called Beautiful

I am soul healed.

For in examining His beauty

I am discovering His goodness.

And when His goodness is revealed

anything, anything might happen.

Will you come?

Counting from the Gate called Beautiful with Ann:

131. Unexpected Valentine from the little girl next door.

132. My Bible Study girls and I getting “tatt-ed” together!

133. A box in the mail!!

134. A gift from Sarah Mae and DaySpring!

135. Daughter’s debut as a paid singer!

136. Happy Statue of Liberty guy. (You can’t tell, but his smile is radiant!)

137. The privilege of making 500 truffles…

138. Coming through to the other side of the flu.

…sharing a playdate with Laura:

….finding heaven with Jen:

…hanging out with L.L.:

…sharing with Shandra:

The Story of Valentine’s Day – Guest Post by Craig From Deep Into Love

Happy Valentine by Hamid Eslami

February 14, 269 AD

Her face is round, as are her eyes…
and dark and deep…
and head lowered…
a voice as veiled as her face…
she lilts a whispered “I do”.

His arms strong, chiseled chin, brown locks…
eyes even softer than hers…
like a doe in the forest.

He places his hand to her chin.
Raises it to until her eyes meet his…
and says in definitive and loving tone…
“I do”.

There are three witnesses to the ceremony, God, myself, and a single dove resting on a vine branch in the courtyard. They had come, cloaked and dark, hushed footsteps entering my home, hooded heads, like thieves, indiscernible against the morning mist.

There were the three knocks on my door…
then the pause…
then one more single rap upon the wood.
Three…

and…
One.

So I opened my door and began the ceremony ending in the joyful declarations of both that they would love, and cherish until death. Entering as two they departed as one. A few coins tossed in the fountain as they left. Nods exchanged between them and myself as they scuttled off down the path to the sound of morning larks.

No one will know but us.
No one can.
This marriage is secret.
They all must be.

As they left Antony entered, my friend, another of God’s priests, “You can’t continue to do this.” His first words to me, not good morning, but these. I brushed the comment aside like dust off of a windowsill.

My answer came as easily as breath,“The Emperor’s decree cannot stop the will of God. What’s one more secret marriage, two more outlaws. I’ll make the whole land outlaws and he’ll be able to arrest no one.”

The decree of Claudius that there will be no marriage in Rome is too obvious in nature. Married men, he thinks, don’t enlist, don’t fight the invading hordes to the north. So he thinks by outlawing marriage his army will grow. But Claudius will not win. There will be marriage among God’s people.

If they choose to fight, the decision is theirs.

He wants an army armed with swords and daggers.
I’ll build an army of Christian Love, by marriage.
And I know this…
within a generation the Kindgom of God…
will overtake the Glory of Rome…

The setting of this story is a quiet little hamlet in the heart of the Roman Empire, called Interamna. The location is fact, The decree to outlaw marriage by the Roman emperor Claudius in 269 AD is fact too. The priest conducting the secret marriages is fact as well. The rest…

a bit fiction to lend body to the story that will unfold over the days between here and the holiday bearing his name.

It’s my Valentine gift for you.

That’s his name, by the way, the priest.

He is Valentine, Bishop of Interamna…

and you’ve not heard this story, not told this way…

of secret marriages…

and love…

and Valentine’s day.

Craig has two wonderful blogs. Deep Into Love and Deep Into Scripture. My favorite part of his bio is when he writes that he is a “perpetual weeble, occasional rock”…isn’t that the truth for all of us? He makes me smile.This magnificent piece comes as a series and has oodles more parts…for the next installment please click here.  Make sure that you read the rest of the story of St. Valentine!

Wrestling For Grace – Epiphany Quest

A Temple I Called Hope by Jamie Iain Genovese

I’ve been studying Jacob….and my Western mentality keeps getting in the way. Why choose him God? We “Good Girls”, we struggle to understand. He wasn’t a nice man.

And I follow him on his journey, hoping for an epiphany.

He begins in a place I am familiar with. He begins by running from his past. He tries to outrun consequences, but only prolongs them for another time. And I can understand this, because even “Good Girls” do that.

But even in his running, God meets him on his way. He shows him a glimpse of His glory, and what he’s missing by avoiding Him. And grace is hard to understand, as is favor and righteous judgement. All I can do is shake my head and wonder at mercy given.

JACOB’S LADDER by Michael Goyberg

For Jacob makes some rather proud promises to God. “If you take care of me, then I’ll make you my God.” As if he’s doing God a favor. Have I acted like that? Like my service to God is a favor to Him? And Jacob calls this place the House of God. So he travels on, away from God’s house, but not away from his challenge to God, because, you see, God did take care of Jacob. abundantly. At this point, grace is even harder to understand, because good people struggle sometimes, they struggle just to make it. The “Good Girl” in me asks again: Why him, God? Why Jacob?

After years of prosperity the Lord reminds Jacob of his deal with God. Jacob is tired. He is tired of being deceived and deceiving. He and Laban have spent years trying to outsmart the other. God has called him to return to Caanan. Do you know what Canaan means, dear one? It means “humbled”. Though Jacob has become what those around him would consider great, he has some unfinished business with God, and the road to this end requires humility, something Jacob has not displayed.

Now that Jacob returns to face his past, his present comes chasing after him. The deceit and bickering continues, for unbeknownst to Jacob, Rachel has stolen from her father. The two men, make a covenant and a monument to remember it by, but to Laban it is only a “heap of rocks.” To Jacob? “A heap of witness.” Now I see a glimmer of integrity in Jacob, a man who understands commitment and covenant. For where one man sees some rocks another sees covenant witnessed by God. Each man promises not to cross over that place. Jacob chooses to change camps, to reassociate himself with his own family, with the house of God, renaming the place Mahanaim “the place of two camps.”

How many do we know who refuse to leave behind the old camp? The people who encourage a dependance on anyone but God? I begin to understand; these whys of Jacob. Why he is chosen. Why he is venerated.

But he still has that old fear to face. His brother. The man whom he hurt most. Last time he heard from Esau, he pledged to kill Jacob. Still he presses on; on through his fear. In his distress, he sends men before him to plead his case. But this isn’t enough. He can not send another man to see the face of his brother, to look in his eye; to face his greatest fear; the fear of asking for forgiveness.

Fear by marlow starr

He sends a present, a generous gift, and separates that which is precious from that which is commonplace, keeping those precious ones close to him and sending the commonplace before him. He prays once more, no longer an arrogant young man hoping to outrun his consequences, but a humble, mature man building his courage to face what has long terrified him. No longer a man attempting to cheat God out of a blessing, feeling that God’s blessing, like the birthright and blessing of his father was owed to him, something he deserved. Instead, he pleads, “I am not worthy of the least of of all the mercies, and of all the truth which thou hast shown thy servant.”

And he was left alone. There is a part of the journey which we must travel alone. We can not send someone to do our dirty work; what we fear most doing. We can not buy our way out of it, though a gift may be a wise predecessor to our words. We must wrestle, struggle with the will of God. all. by. ourselves. We must not let go until we have the grace to continue on. For the journey is never something we can do on our own. In our own wisdom, or talent or skills. It always requires a wrestling. A wrestling with our own desires, fears and lack of confidence.

I wonder if Jacob knew that he was wrestling with God while he was wrestling with God? At first it only states that he wrestled with a man, until he asked his name. Who is it that you contend with, believing them to be your battle in life, your struggle? Do you truly wrestle with them, or with the will of God in your life? “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood…”

And he calls this place “the face of God”. And having seen His face, Jacob returns, broken and soft. When he sees his brother, he says that he sees the face of God. Did Esau look like God? He did in the fact that in order to be entirely right with God, Jacob had to search the eyes of his brother for forgiveness. And now God’s forgiveness was complete in Him.

Brothers by Frédéric Mars

What fears do you face? Pray with me for grace, dear one? “Lord, give me the strength to wrestle with you long enough to receive grace to face my fears.”

Great Expectations at Hope’s End – A One Word 365 Post

Remember when

in your youth,

each day was fresh

with no mistakes

and no consequences?

Only dreams waiting to be captured.

And every day was rosy,

full of life

the way a florist shop smells green

and greener.

Then disappointment comes…

but not enough to kill your

Great Expectations!

You won’t be so easily discouraged!

and time passes and another comes…

and you smile and say,

“If at first I don’t succeed,

I’ll try, try again.”

Then life starts to happen.

and one day bleeds into the next

with the blood of murdered hopes and dreams.

Twenty comes and goes

with extra tiny fingers and toes,

and Cheerios in places you never thought you’d see them.

Thirty comes and goes

with extra pounds and rolls,

and your jeans create a nuclear mushroom from your belly.

Now at forty, panic strikes! You realize that

those things youth loftily planned

are out of reach and out of hand.

But then…

Jesus  poured out His hopes and dreams

of a long life well-lived

as a drink offering

for a blood thirsty ground.

His dreams in exchange

for the dreams of others.

And you realize that all is not lost,

because you’ve made beds and sack lunches

paving the way for those you love

to accomplish God things.

God whispers in your ear.

“Will you hope in Me now?

now that you have spent yours?

Now that your pride and confidence

in your own goals

have fallen like Babel?

Will you let Me create in you

an expectation anew?

A fresh future full of Me

now that there is less of you?”

Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal. John 12:24-25 Message

It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, I Peter 1:3

We all arrive at your doorstep sooner
or later, loaded with guilt,
Our sins too much for us—
but you get rid of them once and for all.
Blessed are the chosen! Blessed the guest
at home in your place!
We expect our fill of good things
in your house, your heavenly manse.

Psalm 65 Message

I shared this with d’Verse Poets

Counting gifts with Ann:

117.  Glitter in old lady’s hair

118.  Friends who think that I can do anything.

119.  For great priceless treasure in my home…

120.  A child’s laughter his delight in simply taking another breath.

121.  A task completed. 

122.  The perfect fast breaker! 

123.  Seeing God everywhere!
Sharing with Michelle:

…sharing a playdate with Laura:

….finding heaven with Jen:

…hanging out with L.L.:

Broken

Jacob’s first “experience” with God was in a dream.  He was running from the brother whom he had wronged, afraid for his life.  And yet, God met him where he was.  He revealed to Jacob His power, and gave him promises should he return someday to the land of his ancestors.  God meets us where we are.  Even when we are running from our past, He gives us His words as a promise if we should return.

Jacob dreamed once again, after he had lived with Laban.  He married Laban’s daughters, worked for him, and now God asked Jacob to leave Laban, and return to his own people.  This dream was God reminding Jacob of the promises that He made to Jacob and that Jacob had made to Him when fleeing from Esau.

What promises has God made to you?  What vows have you made to Him?  Has God ever reminded you of His promises?  Has He reminded you of your promises to Him?  Could it be that He is reminding you now? Today?

In Genesis chapter 32, Jacob once again sees angels, and he names the place Mahanaim meaning “two camps.”  Despite the Lord’s encouragement, Jacob is still afraid.  He divides his possessions and family into two camps.  One will go out in front of the other in case Esau and his men attack, then he will be able to save himself and his favorites.  I wonder if part of Jacob is afraid to face his sin?  Afraid to look Esau in the face and own up to his trespass against his brother?

Have you ever had to face a family member or friend whom you have wronged?  Is there someone you need to face today?

Ge. 32:9-12

9And Jacob said, O God of my father Abraham, and God of my father Isaac, the LORD which saidst unto me, Return unto thy country, and to thy kindred, and I will deal well with thee:

10I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, which thou hast shewed unto thy servant; for with my staff I passed over this Jordan; and now I am become two bands.

11Deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau: for I fear him, lest he will come and smite me, and the mother with the children.

12And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.

This is a much more humble Jacob.  Suddenly, this is all about God and not all about him. First of all he says, “I want to remind you that I’m only here, because I’m being obedient to you. And you said that it would be well with me.”  He reminded God of His promise towards Jacob.  But now, the gratitude and thanksgiving of Jacob are astounding. He recognizes that he is unworthy of God’s blessing. Up until this point, Jacob is consistently taking matters into his own hands, even trying to influence nature with the rods and the goats, but now he is in a situation that only God can deliver him from.  And with great humility, he makes his request, one that he doesn’t deserve; safety from his brother. He reminds God of His promise, essentially saying, “You can’t fulfill this promise in me, if I’m dead!”  Essentially he’s like a child saying to his Father, “You said!”

What has God promised you either in dreams or in His Word?  Are you on the first part of the journey as when Jacob was running from what God called him to do?  Or has God given His second call, and now it is time to move on?  Perhaps you are at Mahanaim where you are of two minds thinking, “Should I go forward and do what God has asked?” or are you afraid because of your past? Do you feel unworthy of His promises?

Gen 32:24-31

And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.

25And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob’s thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him.

26And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.

27And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob.

28And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed.

29And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there.

30And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved.

31And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and he halted upon his thigh.

And Jacob was left alone. What happens when we are left alone? When there is no one else to run to? No one else to fix our problems? Jacob wrestled with God. He comes to the end of Jacob and makes demand on God to meet him…alone and empty. Now his stubbornness works for him, because he will not let go until he receives a blessing. Now it is God Who gives the Pillar-Builder a reminder. As a sign of this blessing, God breaks the sinew in his thigh.  Bible scholars and scientists alike say that this sinew spoken of in this scripture is the toughest sinew in the human body. A war horse couldn’t break this sinew. But God broke Jacob at his toughest point; his stubbornness, his self-sufficiency, his guilt and now his feelings of unworthiness.

This man who wrestled with his brother even in the womb, fighting to come into this world first; who tricked his brother out of his birthright; who deceived a blessing out of his father; who fought with Laban over his wages; has now fought with God over His blessing.  And now, he has come to the end of himself.  and he is broken.

Are you broken before God? Are you at the end of yourself, and tired of struggling…alone? Dare to wrestle with God, dear reader. You will never be the same…it was then that Jacob was renamed from “supplanter” or “deceiver” to Israel or “struggle”. God sets Jacob’s very name as a monument to remember a moment with Him. A moment that would change Jacob forever. Will you wrestle with God and have your destiny made sure?

On Making the Living Room A Holy Place

Some days it’s hard.

Some days I don’t feel like counting,

or searching.  A day like today.

I  have a slight headache from tears,

bad news and fears,

and all is not right with the world.