When Mr. Heel Bested Mr. Nobody
Jacob’s midnight wrestling match with his Maker.
A version of this article originally appeared on 1517.
In many ways, the scene at the Ford of Jabbok is a mirror image of what occurred at Bethel, when the patriarch Jacob is encountered by God as he leaves home, and the only life he ever knew, behind. Jacob’s divine rendezvous in Genesis 32 is far more visceral, however, leaving him a changed man, in more ways than one. After a series of chapters that show Jacob scheme, lie, and cheat his way through life, Chapter 32 gives us a glimpse at Jacob at his most vulnerable and, perhaps, most relatable. Following his relatively peaceful separation from Laban, Jacob now faces the prospect of going back home, uncertain of what that might entail. There was no telling what awaited him upon his return to Canaan. Would his brother still be “hot under the collar” to kill him? Or would his quest for revenge be over? Would his parents greet him with favor or with contempt? Would God stay true to his promise to protect him? Everything in front of Jacob was entirely up in the air.
You might think that after everything Jacob has seen and experienced, he would finally put all the pieces together and become the man God wanted him to be. This would be Jacob’s “moment,” his time to “rise to the occasion” and “fulfill his destiny” as the Lord’s patriarch. But that’s not what happens. Instead of “seizing his moment,” Jacob resorts to his old habits and tricks to come out on top and save his own skin. Before you are too quick to pass judgment on such a frustrating biblical character, it is worth remembering that Jacob is us. For all intents and purposes, he is the prototypical disciple who is continually tripping over his own two feet. He is the ultimate example of simul iustus et peccator, that is, “simultaneously justified and sinner.” But as frustrating as Jacob proves to be, God never abandons his grip on him, nor does he remove his grace from him or run out of patience for him. Instead, what we are shown is a God who takes delight in showing us that we have no hope until we cling to him as our only hope.
With Laban (thankfully) out of the picture, Jacob’s attention turns to the ominous venture of going back home. Just as he saw angels at Bethel when he left (Gen. 28:10ff), he was met by them again upon his return (Gen. 32:1–2). God is, once again, reassuring him of his promise and protection. What was announced at Bethel is still true (Gen. 28:15). Jacob is moved by this encounter, so much so that he names the place “Mahanaim,” meaning “two camps” (which likely refers to his and the angels’). This moment, which is only briefly recorded, is another moment of grace for Jacob. Even with all the uncertainty and doubt racing through his mind, God dispatches a host of his “ministering spirits” (Heb. 1:14) to comfort him and remind him that he is not alone. Despite how impactful this encounter was, Jacob almost immediately resorts to his old ways:
And Jacob sent messengers before him to Esau his brother in the land of Seir, the country of Edom, instructing them, “Thus you shall say to my lord Esau: Thus says your servant Jacob, ‘I have sojourned with Laban and stayed until now. I have oxen, donkeys, flocks, male servants, and female servants. I have sent to tell my lord, in order that I may find favor in your sight.” (Gen. 32:3–5)
While there is no harm in sending someone out to get a read on the situation, the issue comes from Jacob’s flattery and exaggeration of the truth. In typical Jacob fashion, he attempts to smooth things over by smooth-talking his brother. His instructions to his runners give the impression that he is back after “vacationing” at Uncle Laban’s for a while. We, of course, know the truth. He wasn’t sojourning in Haran; he was running for his life! His plan to ingratiate himself to Esau falls short, as his messengers return bearing the unfavorable news that not only is Esau well aware of Jacob’s presence but his “welcoming committee” consists of a battalion of 400 men (Gen. 32:6). As you can imagine, Jacob spirals into one big mass of worry, anxiety, and fear (Gen. 32:7). This report could only mean one thing: Esau was still out for blood. Those twenty years apart had seemingly done nothing to make his brother “forget” (Gen. 28:45).
Therefore, Jacob hatches a scheme to save himself should Esau greet him with guns blazing (Gen. 32:7–8). As practical and sensible, perhaps, as it might have been to segregate his camp into two, is this really necessary? Does Jacob need another scheme for his life to be saved? No, not at all, especially considering who just met him on the road back home (Gen. 32:1). Jacob’s fears and anxieties are eclipsing his faith. His worries are getting the better of him. Instead of trusting in what God has already promised, he resorts to doing what he knows best — namely, taking matters into his own hands. Significantly, his prayer only comes after he has already made other arrangements to safeguard his passage into Canaan. Furthermore, the tone of his prayer is not that of a desperate person seeking help; it’s more akin to seeking a divine stamp of approval for a plan that was already put into place.
And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O Lord who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,’ I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But you said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’” (Gen. 32:9–12)
To make matters worse, he misquotes God. While God’s Word of Promise guaranteed that he would be with him no matter what (Gen. 28:15; 31:3), it did not include a pledge to “do him good” or “make everything go well for him.” The Lord’s word to Jacob wasn’t the absence of adversity but divine presence in it. Consequently, God’s Word never promises sunshine and rainbows for those who follow him. Rather, it invites sinners and sufferers to draw near to him, and when they do, to realize that he has never left.
Nevertheless, Jacob is content with his plan (Gen. 32:13–20). He arranges for one caravan after another to bombard Esau with gifts. His not-so-subtle scheme involves patching things up with his brother by throwing presents at him. But all this does is leave him with the “hope” that “maybe” it will all work out. “Perhaps he will accept me,” Jacob says to himself (Gen. 32:20). What you are left with when you put your faith in yourself is nothing but the flimsy confidence of a “maybes” or a “hope so.” This brings us to the heart of this scene and what is the most crucial moment in Jacob’s life:
So the present passed on ahead of him, and he himself stayed that night in the camp. The same night he arose and took his two wives, his two female servants, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and everything else that he had. And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. (Gen. 32:21–24)
With his entire entourage already ahead of him, Jacob is left alone. Not only is he in a mess of a mental state, with his mind racing and his thoughts reeling over what’s to come, but he is also broken and jaded by what’s past. This is, perhaps, the most vulnerable position in which Jacob has ever found himself. Suddenly, an unidentified figure pounces on him, and they start wrestling in the darkness. Jacob is fighting for his life. He’s already filled with adrenaline at the prospect of seeing his brother, and now a shadowy attacker is threatening to do who knows what to him. Who is this mystery man wrestling with Jacob? What is he doing there? What does he want? Theories abound concerning the identity of Jacob’s anonymous opponent, ranging from Esau’s guardian angel to a river spirit to the personification of Jacob’s internal demons. None of those theories make sense, though, especially as the rest of the scene unfolds.
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. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day has broken.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” (Gen. 32:25–28)
Jacob ends up wrestling his assailant to a draw, only for the mystery man to graze Jacob’s hip and put it out of joint. This grudge match has now turned into Jacob just barely hanging on. As he clings ever tightly to his combatant, he insists that his opponent bless him, which should be understood as a cry for mercy. “I can’t do anything,” Jacob shrieks, “unless you bless me!” At some point during that midnight wrestling match, Jacob realized who he was wrestling with — namely, God himself in the form of a man. More specifically, this is a pre-incarnate appearance of the Son of God, which is why he names that place “Peniel,” meaning “facing God” (Gen. 32:29–31). According to the prophet Hosea, Jacob “strove” with the angel of God and “won” by begging for mercy (Hosea 12:3–4), which allows us to better understand the brawl at Jabbok.
It isn’t that Jacob is so faithful that he struggles with God until he blesses him. Rather, it’s that God is so patient that he wrestles with Jacob all night long until all Jacob can do is cling to him. The patriarch didn’t prevail because of something he did; God allows him to “win,” like a dad who wrestles with his kids. The angel of the Lord could have very easily put Jacob’s hip out of joint within a few seconds, which leads us to ask why he didn’t. Why didn’t God just snap his fingers and knock him to the ground in an instant? Because the Lord wanted to bring Jacob to the absolute end of himself so that he could see that “Jacob’s way” was hollow and hopeless. He wanted him to give up.
Jacob has been a “wrestler” since the day he was born. He was wrestling in the womb (Gen. 25:22), and he has been wrestling to get his own way ever since. But despite all his cunning and conniving, Jacob’s plans have gotten him nowhere, which is why God compels him to say his name (Gen. 32:27). It’s not that he doesn’t know; it’s that he wants Jacob to face who he is: “I am Jacob.” “I am the supplanter.” “I am the heel holder.” “Jacob,” writes Jerome Kodell, “is forced to admit the whole truth about himself before he is ready for the new name with its new identity and role and for the blessing that accompanies it.”1 This, in a way, is the effect of the law on Jacob, as he is forced to acknowledge his failures and shortcomings. However, this paves the way for the gospel, which is demonstrated when Mr. Heel is given a new name, Israel, meaning “God prevails.” Through the wrestling and renaming of Jacob, therefore, God demonstrates the ministries of his law and gospel, of the letter that kills and the Spirit that gives life (2 Cor. 3:6).
This is who God is. He is so committed to the mission of making you his that he is even willing to come down to the dust to make it happen. Ours is a God who wrestles with us until he has all of us; until there is no nook or cranny in us that he hasn’t remade, renamed, and restored, even if that means lowering himself to the point where he is bested in a brawl. Indeed, even if that means losing everything, which is precisely what he has done for every single sinner. “He, being divine, accommodated himself to human limitations,” Chad Bird attests. “He, being omnipotent, limited his strength that Jacob might have the opportunity to win.”2
The good news for Jacob is that God humbled himself so that he could lose a wrestling match to a man with a dislocated hip so that he could give him a new name.
The good news for us is that God humbled himself so that he could be defeated on a cross made of wood that he spoke into existence so that he could reconcile the world to himself.
Similar to the angel of God’s willing defeat at a brook called Jabbok, the Son of God willingly gave himself up at a brook called Kidron (John 18:1–5). Then, he subsequently surrendered himself to the horrors of Golgotha, where he “gave up his spirit” (John 19:30) and “gave himself for our sins” (Gal. 1:4). The death of Christ on the cross was where God allowed himself to be defeated so that we could “prevail” and be delivered. Jesus lost so that we could “win,” and we only “win” by giving up and clinging to him by faith. Just like Jacob, therefore, this story confronts us with the visceral and unrelenting love of God for us, which is seen and known in the grace that comes to rescue us by wrestling with us and dying instead of us.
Jerome Kodell, “Jacob wrestles with Esau (Gen 32:23-32),” Biblical Theology Bulletin 10.2 (1980): 69.
Chad Bird, Limping with God: Jacob & the Old Testament Guide to Messy Discipleship (Irvine, CA: 1517 Publishing, 2022), 118.
Good word, brother.