Then the Man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.”

           Seems this name changing business was a common occurrence. Peter had his name changed from Simon to Peter. Paul was formerly known as Saul. In our text for today, Jacob had his name changed.

           Jacob is an interesting case study in broken relationships. He was at odds with his family—especially his brother—at odds with God—and at odds with himself. His life, basically, was a mess. He is also a case study in new beginnings. He wrestled with his past, came to grips with it, and became a new man.

           The past sure has a way of holding us in a powerful grip. The past has a way of making the present painful, and the future seem hopeless.

           I believe we may have in our text the first recorded wrestling match. Have you ever witnessed a good wrestling match? Now, I am not talking about rasslin’. Pro rasslin’. That’s what Jesse Ventura and Hulk Hogan did. Bet there are a few people here who remember Vern Gagne. Good guys versus bad guys. That stuff is not much more than soap opera, with scripts and story lines.

           But real wrestling—which is an Olympic sport. Maybe there are some former wrestlers among us. My youngest, Jon, was a wrestler from grade school through high school. I was always very supportive of my children’s high school activities. Every effort was made to be present at most events. But I must admit, I had some difficulty with the wrestling. Watching Jon play baseball, I was pretty silent—just enjoying

the game and his part in it. But wrestling had a way of evoking my protective, paternal instincts. Because, you see, it appeared that other guy was trying to hurt my little boy. And I did not like it. I did not like it one bit. And that made watching wrestling sometimes difficult.

           It can be a very scientific sport, I guess. A match consists of three two-minute periods. The object is for one person to score more points than the other. This is accomplished through takedowns and escapes and reversals. Or one can pin the other’s shoulders to the mat and win that way. There are holds like chicken wings and cradles and arm bars. And you can’t tell me they don’t hurt.

           So there was one match I remember above all others. Jon will tell you he remembers it as well, because he could hear me yelling. Our children want to know we support them. They just don’t always want their friends to hear us supporting them.

           My boy was up against a highly ranked grappler from Bertha/Hewitt. He was something like number three in the state at their weight class. There was Jon, his nice blond hair protruding from the sides of his helmet. The other guy looked so mean—like he should have been in a pro rasslin’ cage match. Jon looked vulnerable.

           I couldn’t watch—but I did—one eye opened and one eye closed kind of thing. The match actually lasted longer than I thought it would. Twenty-seven seconds. The ref blew the whistle. The other guy was all over my kid. Took him down right away. Jon was on his stomach. Then this bully had my son’s arm and leg twisted in what seemed to be abnormal angles. He was making a pretzel of him—trying to turn him over. That had to hurt. And so I yelled, “Let him up!” And just like that, Jon was on his back—and pinned. A merciful end.

           Later, I said to Jon, “Don’t tell me that didn’t hurt when that guy had you bent every which way.” He looked at me with some disgust and said, “Dad, of course it hurt; that’s why I ended up on my back.” Oh well, he survived with no lasting marks or reminders in his body of his wrestling days.

           Such was not the case in our text. What we have here is a wrestling match that lasted through the evening. One of the combatants, Jacob, ended up with a hip out of joint. Don’t tell me that didn’t hurt. A limp. A lasting reminder of a brief wrestling career.

           The story of Jacob is familiar. He was not the best of characters—at first. He had a twin brother, Esau. Esau was born first. But Jacob followed his brother so closely out of the womb that he had a hand on the heel of Esau’s foot. That’s why he was named Jacob. Jacob means one who grabs the heel—or, in its figurative sense, one who deceives. And Jacob did deceive.

           He deceived his brother. Esau, as the first born, was heir to all the privileges that came with being the first born. But Jacob managed to get Esau to sell him his birthright. It was a story that involved Jacob exploiting his brother’s hunger and using it to his advantage. So he was able to assume, through deception, his brother’s birthright. Then he deceived his father, Isaac, into giving him the blessing that should have been given to Esau. Jacob conspired with his mother and took advantage of his father’s failing eyesight. Esau ended up despising his brother, and he wanted to kill him.

           But Jacob wasn’t finished. He deceived his father-in-law, Laban. Some would argue that bit of deception cut two ways. It did. But Jacob prospered at his father-in-law’s expense.

           So when we meet Jacob in our text, his past was about to catch up with him. He was heading for home with his wives, children,

servants, and livestock. Outwardly, he appeared prosperous. Inwardly, he was troubled. He knew he would have to come face to face with his brother. That scared him. Jacob had always depended upon his wit to get by. He had been a grabber and a fighter who had not fought fairly. He sent presents in an attempt to appease his brother. He had a talk with God and said, “Deliver me, please, from the hand of my brother, for I am afraid of him.” Jacob had not much time for God until this point. But now he kind of needed God to bail him out of a situation he had gotten himself into. There was a lot going on inside of Jacob. His past and his conscience and his fears were waging battle within.

           Jacob’s prayer was answered that night—in a rather unexpected way. He was alone. And the answer came in the form of a wrestling match. There was this man—a representative of God—who wrestled with him through the night. Jacob’s hip was put out of joint. He walked with a limp the rest of his life.

           This text is full of meaning. I would like to draw just a couple of lessons from it.

           First, this was Jacob’s conversion. It was his conversion from an I-can-do-it-myself kind of guy to a man who depended upon God. In this wrestling match, Jacob came to the realization that God blessed the helpless. And he, Jacob, was helpless.

           Make no mistake about it. Jacob was waging a pretty tough battle. I am sure we have all waged our own tough battles with God. The text says God’s representative was having a difficult time prevailing against Jacob. But the guy was saving his best move, for it was at that point he touched Jacob’s hip—dislocating it.

           The man then asked Jacob to let him go. But Jacob hung on and would not let him go until he blessed him. Earlier, remember, Jacob had used deception to get a blessing. Now he was asking for it. That was the language of faith. Jacob was beaten. He was helpless, and just holding on. And he desired to be blessed. From that moment, he was a changed man.

           You know, it is okay to admit we have been beaten. Okay to confess our helplessness. And okay to seek to be blessed by God. God blesses the helpless. In fact, God delights in that. We come to a point when we let go of our wit and our strength. We depend upon God. In him, then, in Christ, we become new. New people and a new church.

           There is one more thing. By knowing all blessing comes from God, by becoming new in Christ, the past does not have to hold us. We can look forward to a future filled with hope.

           Is there anything about the past that kind of holds us—and won’t let go? Let me put that a different way. Is there anything we cannot let go of?

           When I was in Hibbing as a youth director, there was this guy who came to see the pastor at least twice a month. He was carrying around a bunch of guilt. Over what, I don’t know. But he felt God could not forgive his past. God had forgiven it. He just could not let go. He thought he was lost, and he needed twice-monthly assurances that he was saved.

           It is a difficult thing to be in regular warfare with yesterday. Jacob had a past. God let it go. God gave Jacob a fresh start—a fresh start that came with a new name. The past was done. Before the wrestling match, Jacob was afraid to meet his brother. After the match, he boldly went into the future and hugged Esau.

           You know, with God the past is…well, the past is the past. The past is something God forgives. More than that, God forgets. Why would anyone try to remember and hold on to what God has forgotten and let go of? With God, it is always about a new and a fresh start. It is about now. An exciting now. And it is about looking to the future with hope—going out and meeting that of which we used to be afraid—totally dependent upon God.

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.”