Wrestling with God. It’s evidently a very popular expression. Turns out there are several books with this title, endless sermons posted online, quote upon quote. Until yesterday, I had never actually heard it used as a formal phrase.

My wife and I were at dinner, celebrating her birthday. A nice big steak and a tasty glass of Malbec, paired with some surprisingly deep and rich conversation.  We were philosophically discussing our lives, our purpose, where we are, where we want to be. My wife shared with me something her counselor told her earlier in the week. He said she was wrestling with God. Not fully trusting Him, not fully giving up control to Him. A few days later, one of her friends repeated that exact phrase to her, and it struck her deeply.  I thought it was all very interesting, particularly the concept of wrestling with God. I could relate to that. It felt like a really appropriate visual for much of my recent journey.

This morning in church, the pastor was talking about simplifying life. And he talked specifically about wrestling with God. There it was again. God’s definitely trying to communicate with my wife and I. The pastor talked about Jacob, who went from “heel grabber” to “man who wrestles with God.”  He talked about being called to run away from something really good so that we can receive the very best. That hit home with me.

God has been making my comfortable life very uncomfortable lately. I’ve been subjected to exceptional stress at work, and I’ve been waging internal wars. God has been tugging on me, pulling me toward something. And I”ve wanted to go, but in typical fashion, I’ve dug my feet in, locked my legs, wrapped my arms and started wrestling. The closer I get to whatever the “it” is, the more it scares me. My comfortable life. I make so many excuses for why it needs to be the way it is. Why I need to strive for that next promotion. Why I need to make a better life for my kids. Why I need to provide more financial safety. I’m paralyzed. Trapped. Extinguished. I’m out of the game.

Everything the pastor said this morning stabbed me like knives running to my bones. I’m caught up in materialism. I lie to myself, saying I need the next “thing” so that my family can be more comfortable. Meanwhile, I’m inviting more and more stress into my life. I’m teaching my kids that success in the world’s eyes is what defines them.  I’m constantly distracting myself and my family with stuff and more stuff. All the while, I’m just giving God lip service, turning coward the moment I think I might be asked to experience sacrifice.

I can feel God leaning in, pushing me to either take a stand or fall away. I can feel Him calling me to stop with the heel grabbing, reaching out and grasping for the feet in front of me. I feel Him calling me to stop complicating matters and getting swept up in the rat race, to do as it says in Hebrews 12:1 – to run with perseverance the race marked out for me. 

My stomach has been in knots for three weeks. External situations, coupled with my internal debates, have created choppy, rolling waters that toss me about and make me seasick. And I don’t even fully understand what God is asking of me yet. But I do know it’s reaching a climax, a moment of truth, an act of closure. And in the meantime, I’m wrestling with God. Trying to obey. To trust. And to potentially run away from something really good to experience the fullness of what He has for me. Even if that means getting really uncomfortable in the process.