“Wrestling with God”
July 12, 2026
Genesis 32:22-31
“Wrestling With God”
David A. Shirey
One of my seminary professors had a good idea, but it had problems as far as I was concerned. He was taken by the story found in Genesis chapter 32 which I just read: Jacob's long night on the banks of the Jabbok River. Left alone there, he wrestled with – who was it – a man? an angel? God? (the text is mysteriously vague here) – wrestled until sunrise. He called the name of the place Penuel. My professor came up with the idea of opening a retreat center north of Nashville in the Tennessee hills to be called Penuel Ridge: A Place to Wrestle with God.[1] To which I thought, Don, you've got a PR problem there. A place to wrestle with God? Does that sound like a resort? Why not call it Restful Retreat or Peaceful Pastures or Mountain's Majesty or Blessed Breezes or even Happy Holler – but Penuel Ridge:A place to wrestle with God. I don’t think so.
Let me ask you: Would you go to Penuel on your own volition? Would you choose to spend time wrestling with God? I know a lot of people who sure wouldn't.
For instance, some people say you shouldn’t wrestle with God.
I had a friend I grew up with from 7th grade all the way through high school. Saw him several years ago at a reunion.
We got caught up on what we each were doing and Eric said, “So you’re a pastor. I’ll be honest with you. I haven’t been to church for a long time.”
“What happened?”
“Well, when I was going through confirmation classes, they were teaching us all kinds of things about the Bible, about faith, about what Christians believe. For the first time in my life I got to thinking, really thinking about everything they were saying and I had some questions. So I asked them.”
“And?”
“And I remember being told after one of the classes, ‘You ask too many questions.’”
“And when I got home, I told my Mom what had happened and she said, ‘Why don’t you just believe what you’re told?’”
Is it a sin to ask questions, to wrestle with God and God’s Word and God’s will and God’s way? Ever notice how so many times somebody who musters the courage to ask a question will preface it by saying, "This is probably a stupid question, but..." I had a professor once who told us the only stupid question is the unasked one because, as he reminded us, many of Jesus' greatest teachings were prompted by people’s questions. If nobody’d asked the question, we’d never have benefitted from Jesus’ answer.
For instance, the question, "Lord, would you teach us to pray?" led to Jesus teaching the Lord's Prayer (Luke 11:1).
The question, "Lord, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" led to the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37).
The question, "Lord, which is the greatest commandment of all?" led to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and might and love your neighbor as yourself" (Matthew 22:36-40).
Jesus didn’t say, “You ask too many questions.” Seems to me it’s all right to ask questions and wrestle with God’s Word and will and way, but some say you should not wrestle with God.
Then again, some say you need not wrestle with God. In their way of thinking, there's no need to wrestle with God. Across the years, I’ve heard what I’ll call “Allyagottadois Christianity.” From the way it’s been explained to me, it works this way. Someone asks, “What do I have to do to be a Christian?” And the answer is, “Oh, allyagottado is…” "All you gotta do is make a confession of faith. All you gotta do is be baptized. All you gotta do is read your Bible.” That’s all you’ve gotta do to be a Christian. Well, if following Jesus Christ can be boiled down to "All you gotta do is..." there's no wrestling necessary. Allyagottadois Christianity is easy.
But is it easy to be a Christian?
Is praying easy? It’s one thing to say a prayer, but it’s another thing to pray like Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane when he sweated great drops of blood.
Is following Jesus easy? “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. Pick up your cross and come follow me.” Easy?
Is reading the Bible easy? Easy to understand a book that written in a different language in a different culture in a different era-- read it and comprehend it and apply it? I think it was Mark Twain who said “It’s not the passages of the Bible that I don't understand that bother me, it's the ones I do understand.” And along the same lines, G.K. Chesterton said, "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried."
Seems to me it’s difficult to be a follower of Jesus Christ and that the life of faith entails some wrestlin’, but some say you need not wrestle with God.
And some people simply will not wrestle with God. There is some outright laziness and apathy among some professed followers of Jesus Christ, people who just won't wrestle with God: Don't care to. Not interested. Bless her heart, I remember a woman from St. Louis who in one of our small group gatherings, as we wrestled with an issue that was stretching us beyond where we were to where we sensed God was calling to be, interrupted and said, "Hey, I'll be honest. I only want to go so far with my religion." Seems to me it takes some exertion, some effort, some wrestlin’, but some simply will not wrestle with God.
Back to my opening question: Would you go to Penuel? Some say you should not, others that you need not, still others simply will not... wrestle with God.
Like it or not though, we may have to go to Penuel. We may not have a choice when it comes to wrestling with God. I received a geography lesson in studying this passage. Namely, the Jabbok River (where the wrestling took place) stands between Jacob and the Promised Land. My conclusion based on that geography lesson is this: everyone on a genuine journey of faith must pass through the Jabbok and spend a night, a week, a month, years at Penuel wrestling with God. I'm convinced that if we want to get to the Promised Land, if we want to move farther along in our walk with Jesus Christ, there's wrestling that must be done. Every genuine journey of faith requires passing through Penuel and wrestling with God.
There is a chorus you may be familiar with that has a peculiar kick: "Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me." That song says that before God can fill us and use us, God must first melt us and mold us. Do you realize what’s involved in a body's being melted and molded? We're not talking about a relaxing massage here – we're talking about a full-scale reconstruction project, a sometimes painful tearing down and rebuilding of the way we think and act and talk. To think that before God can really use us, we must first be melted, molded – we must wrestle with God.
Geography and theology both tell us we have to go to Penuel to get to the Promised Land.
Do you recognize what paths lead to Penuel? There are times in our lives that take us to that place of wrestling with God. What are some of them?
Wrestling with important decisions.
Striving to discern God's will.
Breaking through to deeper commitments whether it be to God or someone else.
Pressing beyond our comfort zone, putting ourselves in places and situations that will stretch and challenge and leave us different people than we entered them.
Struggling to free ourselves from destructive habits, attitudes, and actions. Grappling with addictions that hold us captive.
And there's no wrestling like repenting of wrongs, forgiving and being forgiven.
Max Lucado describes all such moments as "anvil time."[2] It's as if you're being hammered out, reshaped, reformed. Wrestling, striving, breaking through, pressing beyond, striving, enduring – these are all paths that lead to Penuel. When you’re on the anvil, you’re at Penuel Ridge. You’re wrestling with God.
Which raises a question. If we all have to go there, what becomes of wrestlers with God? In our story this morning, Jacob walks off after the long night with a limp. Get that? Limps off after having wrestled with God. It’s true. Anyone who has at some point in their life wrestled with God walks with a limp. Anyone who dares enter deeply into life with God or with any other person, pouring out body, mind, soul, and might, will walk with a limp. What I mean by that is:
Anyone who has raised children or grandchildren, walks with a limp.
Anyone who has shared life with another human being in the bonds of marriage or in close friendship, walks with a limp.
Anyone who has invested themselves wholeheartedly in the life of a congregation from the worship services to the meetings and everything in between – anyone who has given themselves to church and church people and church business "warts and all" – walks with a limp.
Anyone who earnestly tries to follow Jesus day by day in their dealings with all people everywhere walks with a limp.
But mind you, there was a blessing involved, too. In the story, God blessed Jacob at Penuel and the sun rose upon him and he walked off with a new name, a changed man. What was his new name? Israel (meaning “Wrestles with God”). Which says to me that to be one of God's chosen is by definition to be a person who earnestly wrestles with God. It's a strange paradox to be sure: that the wrestling, though it leaves one with a limp, is a blessing nonetheless. But it's true, true, true: to contend with God is the greatest adventure and challenge and joy of all. What I'm saying to you is that life with God and growth in faith at its invigorating best takes place not in the comfy confines of Jerusalem but in the scratch and scrawl at Penuel: wrestling with God.
When I was a kid, my brother and sister and I would sneak up on my dad as he lay on the family room floor watching television. We'd pounce on him at predetermined places – me at his strong right arm, my brother Mike at his left, my sister Jill lunging to wrap herself around his legs, hoping to wrestle him to the point of surrender. If we all did our parts to immobilize him, then one of us could then reach out with a free hand and tickle him under his neck, a move that if done just right would leave him convulsing in laughter. It was great fun! But he'd inevitably wriggle free and then he'd get one of us in the infamous leg-lock and another in the dreaded arm-vise and the unlucky third one of us would be pulled close to his chin and get the infamous bear rub, his whiskers rubbing up against our cheek like sandpaper until we'd call out, "Let go. Let go. Stop. Maaamaaa! Tell him to let go me. Daddy stop! You're hurting me. Meany!" And he'd let go and we'd walk off, red-faced, sweating, hair matted, one of us usually crying.
"That'll teach you to wrestle with me," he'd say as we limped out toward the kitchen.
But you know, funny thing, we'd always head back in for more, sometimes that same night.
The lunging, the laughing, the sweating, the grunting, even the crying and the limping off utterly defeated, what a blessing that wrestling was! He’s been dead nearly 40 years now and what I’d give for another night of wrestling with him.
The Scripture says, “The sun rose upon Jacob as he passed Penuel, limping because of his thigh.” I know some say you shouldn’t wrestle with God and others say you don’t need to and still others won’t, but the Scriptures testify to the truth that get to the Promised Land you’ve got to go through Jabbok. And when all is said and done, what a blessing it is to wrestle with God!
Let all God’s people on the St. Paul varsity wrestling team say, AMEN.
[1] And it is now a reality: https://www.penuelridge.org/
[2] Max Lucado, On the Anvil, Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 1994.
