I Want to Walk on the Water

There are two questions in Jacob's story that, separated by years, reveal a profound change in the man answering them. The first came in the dimness of Isaac's tent: “Who are you, my son?” — Genesis 27:18 ESV Jacob stood before his earthly father, seeking a blessing. The second came in the darkness at Penuel: “What is your name?” — Genesis 32:27 ESV This time, Jacob stood face-to-face with God. Both times, he was a son seeking a blessing, but the first time, Jacob hid behind the identity of another son. The second time, he simply said: “Jacob.” Before a father who could not see him clearly, Jacob disguised himself. Face-to-face with the Father who saw him completely, there was no disguise that could mask who he really was. Two Answers Years earlier, Jacob had wrapped himself in Esau's identity. His brother's clothes hung on his body. Goatskins covered his smooth hands and neck. He carried Esau's scent into his father's tent. Isaac sensed something was wrong. “Th...

Jacob knew how to get what he wanted. He bargained. He deceived. He negotiated. He strategized. From Esau's birthright to Isaac's blessing to his years with Laban, Jacob had learned how to maneuver his way through life. And now, with Esau approaching with four hundred men, he was strategizing again—dividing his camp and sending gifts ahead, trying to soften whatever waited for him on the other side of the night. But then Jacob encountered Someone he could not manipulate. Genesis 32 tells us that Jacob was left alone, wrestling through the darkness until the breaking of day. "When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him." — Genesis 32:25 ESV He touched him. That's all. One touch from God, and the strength Jacob had relied upon was no longer enough to hold him as it had before and I can't get away from the location of that touch. The hip bears weight and gives ...

There are nights when sleep simply will not come. Your body is still, but your mind is wrestling—holding what God said in one hand and what you see in the other, desperately trying to make the two agree. God, did You say? Jacob knew something about nights like that. Before Jacob ever wrestled with God, he had obeyed Him. The Lord told him, “Return to the land of your fathers and to your kindred, and I will be with you” (Genesis 31:3 ESV). So Jacob went—and that road led him straight toward Esau. When Jacob learned that Esau was coming to meet him with four hundred men, Scripture says he was “greatly afraid and distressed” (Genesis 32:7 ESV). God, You told me to come back here. You said You would be with me. You said You would do me good. Jacob reminded God, “O LORD who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good’” (Genesis 32:9 ESV). I especially love the way the KJV renders that last promise: “I will deal well with thee.” Then Jacob asked plainly, ...

Some thoughts do not arrive all at once.  They come quietly.  Like waves that keep returning to the shore.  One after another.  Never demanding attention, but somehow refusing to leave.  This has been one of those thoughts. It started with a phrase I have heard countless times: “I’ve found my people.” You know what someone means when they say it. They have found the ones who understand them. The ones who know the story behind the story. The people around whom they can exhale and simply be themselves. Sometimes we say the opposite too. “Those aren’t my people.” And I understand that just as easily. T hat familiar phrase followed me into my Bible. W hile I was searching Scripture, I realized I had begun searching my own heart.  Somewhere between turning pages and tracing one verse into another, my study quietly became a prayer. “Lord...do You know me as one of Your people?” Not, do I go to church? Not, do I know enough Scripture? Not even, do other people rec...

"The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe." — Proverbs 29:25 Whose voice has the greatest influence over your life? It's a question worth asking. Throughout Scripture we find people who knew what was right...yet chose another voice. Not because they were ignorant. Not because God hadn't spoken. But because, in a moment of fear, pride, anger, or the desire to be accepted, they valued another voice above God's. The Bible calls it the fear of man. The fear of man can look like a lot of things. Sometimes it looks like keeping the peace. Sometimes it looks like wanting to fit in. Sometimes it looks like protecting our reputation. Sometimes it looks like wanting everyone to like us. Sometimes it even disguises itself as wisdom or kindness, but at its core, the fear of man is simply valuing other voices more than God's. It's allowing the opinions, expectations, approval, or rejection of people to carry more weight than what God has alr...

Grief. Feels like a shipwreck.  One moment life is familiar. The next, you're floating in waters you never expected to navigate, surrounded by pieces of the life you once knew, reaching for whatever you can find just to stay afloat. Then the waves come. One after another. Relentless. Threatening to pull you under before you've caught your breath from the last one. If you've ever walked through deep grief, I don't have to explain those pictures. You know them. You've lived them. I know them, too. Not your story perhaps, b ut I know what it feels like to have life change in an instant. To wonder how you'll ever move forward. To question whether you'll ever feel whole again.  Somewhere along the journey—maybe not immediately, but eventually—a different question begins to surface. "Why?" Why did this happen? Why now? Why them? Why me? If we're honest, we're often searching for the purpose of our pain, but over the years  I've come to know ...