Limping Through Life

January 26, 2019

Limping your way through life may not seem like much fun, but it may be the best way to live. In Genesis 32, Jacob’s deceitful past is finally catching up with him. His entire life up till now has been spent in scheming and clawing, climbing over anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. It began years before when he cheated his brother out of his birthright, the larger inheritance given to the elder son. That little trick put Jacob on the lam and had him going toe to toe with his uncle who was as much of a con artist as he.

Now he is on his way home, and he’s scared. His brother is coming to meet him with an armed entourage. It’s time to face the music, and it is in a minor key. Jacob lays his plans carefully to protect those he cares about. He may be a scoundrel, but he’s not a total jerk. After seeing to their safety, he goes on ahead, and in the middle of the night finds himself in a wrestling match with none other than God himself—a pretty formidable adversary. The contest rages back and forth throughout the night, and to Jacob’s credit, he doesn’t quit, even as he tries one last trick he has up his sleeve. 

All through this midnight contest they wrestle, grunting and grasping till Jacob is about spent. Up till the end, he’s too preoccupied to concern himself with the identity of his adversary. All he knows is that someone is blocking his way, not allowing him through, thwarting his plans. Towards morning, he asks his adversary’s name. This isn’t about congratulating him for a good match like two tennis players shaking hands after the game. This is about control. If Jacob can name him, he can control him. It’s much like when we know something is wrong, but can’t place our finger on it. Once we identify the problem even if it’s a bad situation, we at least feel some measure of control over it. Jacob’s adversary knows what he is up to, and refuses his query. Then he does something that changes the whole game.

He smacks Jacob on the hip, dislocating it. The fight is over. As the sun comes up, we see Jacob limping away from the fight, only he is no longer Jacob, “the Cheater,” but Israel, “the Prince.” This prince doesn’t swagger towards his brother that afternoon. He limps and shuffles. He may have prevailed—succeeded—in standing his ground with God, but he’ll never swagger again. He limps.

I’ve walked this planet for nearly 70 years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to be wary of those who swagger. They may be politicians or they may be preachers, but if they try to convince me that they have all the answers, that they have everything figured out, that if I just do what they say, everything will turn out all right, I avoid them like the plague. I’d sooner trust a starving lion. But if someone walks with a limp in their soul, I know I’m in the presence of someone who has been with God. They don’t look pretty; they aren’t suave and sophisticated, but they are trustworthy, and I thank God for every limping saint who has shuffled into my life.