Those little subheadings in your Bible can be helpful. But they can also keep us from discovering meaning. One of those places is in Genesis 32. Let me explain.
In the first part of this chapter, Jacob is overwhelmed with anxiety at the thought of having to face his brother. If you remember the story, Jacob has always gotten the upper hand on his brother. He was grasping at his heel as they exited the womb, and that pursuit defined his life. Jacob was always chasing something.
In Genesis 25, he sought Esau’s birthright. He capitalized on Esau’s hunger and gained this blessing for a bowl of stew. In Genesis 27, he further messes over his brother by deceiving Isaac. He dressed up like Sasquatch to pretend like he was Esau. Jacob received the blessing. In Genesis 29 he spent 7 years chasing a wife. And then after being tricked, spent another 7 years to get the wife he actually wanted. He chased after property and financial success working for Laban. And it worked. Jacob was filthy rich for his time.
But all of this chasing had a cost. There was a trail of broken relationships behind him. Which meant that Jacob wasn’t only chasing after things, he was also running away. In Genesis 32, you the anxiety pours off the page. He knows that he has wronged Esau, and figures he is about to receive his comeuppance. Don’t read this section as if Jacob has stopped striving. Here he is striving for relational peace. He needs things to be cool with Esau. Jacob is still a chaser.
Maybe you can identify with Jacob—always chasing after the next thing. According to Chuck DeGroat, this is the human condition:
Whether the lie comes from the serpent or a marketer, we are invited to chase: Chase love. Chase soothing. Chase acceptance. Chase achievement. Chase recognition. Chase numbness. Chase certainty. Chase perfection. I even have a little plastic card in my wallet with the words “Chase Freedom”. The reality is, it’s not a one-off addiction that we’re dealing with; it’s a whole way of living. We are immersed in an exhausting chase after those basic needs to feel safe, seen, soothed, and secure. The lie that it’s out there, the fruit on a tree, the bonus in your checking account, the seductive glance of the person sitting across from you in the coffee shop, the adrenaline hit of a well-timed truth bomb on social media. So we’ll keep chasing, keep grasping, keep striving, even if it costs us in body and soul.[1]
Chasing and running is exhausting. No human can maintain it. That’s why we always hit a sort of rock bottom. Our finitude will always show itself. Whether that is from once again plunging headlong into an addiction or being sharp with your children. It always rises to the top. At first glance you might not see Jacob’s anxiety. It probably seems like he’s being a shrewd business person, once again slithering his way out of danger and into prosperity. But it’s all anxious.
He sends a host of gifts ahead of him, yet he also prays. And some commentaries view Jacob’s prayer here as a model prayer. Maybe so—but it’s dripping with worry and the fear of man. His prayer is similar to how we might pray when we become afraid. “Protect me. Keep me and my family safe. Help everything to work out. Give me this perfectly reasonable that I’m chasing after. You said, you’d do me good and this is what I think good looks like”.
It’s the prayer of a chaser.
Then he gets up from his prayer and goes into action. Which again, commentaries tend to praise his action here. He not only prays but he acts in accordance with that prayer. He uses his God-given noggin to make things better for himself and his family. It’s another plan to protect at least half of his assets.
I want to draw your attention to Genesis 32:20,
“…and you shall say, “Moreover, your servant Jacob is behind us.’ For he thought, “I may appease him with the present that goes ahead of me, and after I shall see his face. Perhaps he will accept me.”
You won’t notice it in English but the word “face” appears three times there. It’s a word that is connected to honor and shame. It’s connected to reconciliation. To have someone’s face to shine upon you means to have their favor—to have honor upon you instead of shame. Jacob is chasing his brother’s honor.
Really camp out on that phrase “perhaps he will accept me”. That is what it is all about for Jacob in this moment. This is the focal point of all his anxiety. This is what he is chasing. And it’s the heart of his anxious prayer in verses 9-12. Acceptance equals protection. It is the thing that Esau needs.
“Keep me safe! Move in Esau’s heart to accept me.”
Identify with Jacob here. Remember those prayers that you’ve prayed. “God, keep me safe. Keep my family from harm. Hedge of protection and all that jazz.” Feel your own anxious moments in this prayer of Jacob. And then scratch out that little subheading in your Bible and finish off the story.
Jacob hides his family. And how he’s all by himself. Raw. Vulnerable. Taking a risk. Trusting in God. Hoping for an answer to his prayer. And what happens…
Jesus shows up. Or, maybe Jesus. The angel of the Lord.
But not quite like you’d think. He shows up in wrestling attire. Jacob prays “Keep me safe” and God says, “Okay, let’s wrassle!”
What is this? What kind of God shows up to a vulnerable dude that is filled with anxiety and prays for protection, and then decides to drop an elbow from the top rope. It seems cruel. How is this an answer for prayer? How is this caring for Jacob?
—
God’s action here is profoundly loving to a “chaser”. Let me explain.
Some read these verses about Jacob’s wrestling match with God and come to the conclusion that God must not be all that powerful if he can’t even best a mere human. But that’s silliness. When my children were younger, we’d wrestle as dad’s do with their kiddos. My son seemed to always know we were playing, and he’d “fight” accordingly. My daughter didn’t catch that memo. She gave 110 percent with fingernails.
Yes, I could have broken her little 3-year-old frame in half. I could have easily bested her. But she was so scrappy that I couldn’t actually defeat her without hurting her. And there was no world in which I’d actually harm my daughter. So I’d have to resort to that move where you take your much longer parental arm, place it on her forehead, and let her wildly swing until she wears herself out.
I think God is doing something similar here. He could have wiped Jacob out in a moment. But he wasn’t trying to best him in that way. He was speaking to the heart of the chaser. He was letting him exhaust himself. And then when he touched his hip, striking him with a painful blow and communicating to Jacob that he wasn’t going to win, the chaser finally gave out.
He collapsed, but he also kept holding on. “I won’t let you go until you bless me”. You see what has happened here is that Jacob’s chase has now shifted. He realizes that he isn’t wrestling with a mere man, but God Himself. And so his prayer changes. He’s no longer praying about protection from Esau. That has taken a back seat to this quest.
His prayer becomes like that Syrophoenician woman who wouldn’t let Jesus go without blessing her, even if it meant table scraps. It’s the desperate pulling at the garment of Jesus from the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. Or the piercing cries of Bartimaeus, who just wouldn’t shut up until Jesus came and gave him healing.
Jacob is given a new name. Rather than “heel-grabber” or “supplanter” he’s now given the name “God-striver”. The chase has shifted. Oddly enough, as the narrative continues, he’ll sometimes be called Jacob and sometimes Israel. Shows the dual nature of the man. He doesn’t exactly give up “the chase”. Transformation is muddy. But now he’s asking new questions and has a new bent to his life. He’s Israel too.
And remember all that talk about Esau’s “face” in Genesis 22:20? Well, the name of the place is called Peniel, “because I have seen God face to face”. A new face now comes into view. He had been praying to “save face” with Esau. To meet with his brother face to face. That was his prayer. That was his chase, and he just wanted God to give him a bit of divine help in this quest.
That’s why God wrestled Jacob instead of nurtured him. And it’s why He answered Jacob’s prayer in a way different than he was expecting. He did get reconciled to Esau. That prayer was in fact answered. But you get the idea that it was answered in a different way—a less anxious way, a less desperate way.
God, I believe, is saying something similar to us today. In all of our broken, addictive, empty, struggling, striving, plotting, and anxious moments, God is asking us, “what exactly are you chasing?” What are you chasing today? Slow down long enough to ask that question, for a moment.
God doesn’t just ask these tough questions to wrestle with. He actively wrestles with us. He’ll hold us at arms-length (still graciously hanging onto us) and letting us swing ourselves dry. And then in those moments, when we’re but a heap of tears and helplessness, He makes himself “grabbable”. He makes Himself able to be held onto and able to hear us cry out for His blessing.
Rather than meeting us with disapproval and further shaming us for our foolish chases, I can almost picture Him laughing—much as I would when wrestling with my kids—and saying, “I thought you’d never ask!”
[1] Chuck DeGroat, Healing What’s Within, 163
