My favourite Bible passage is perhaps an odd one.  It’s not exactly succinct ‘memory verse’ material.  It isn’t even a passage I think specifically about often, but I think it is probably the passage that has shaped my relationship with God as an adult more than any other.

Jacob, a wholly flawed character (swindles his brother’s birthright and blessing with a combination of great cooking, cunning disguise, and a little motherly encouragement and assistance, anyone?) wrestles with God, and far from being smote to ruin upon the mountainside as might reasonably be expected, he comes away, blessed, with a new name, Israel. And more than that, it is the name given to his descendants and that characterizes them as a people, God’s chosen people, meaning “struggles with God.” God’s people, the Israelites, come to be identified as people who struggle with him.

I love how personal this is – we are permitted to access and relate to God in a personal and privileged way as the people who struggle with God. We trust that God accepts and even welcomes our questions and that he is big enough to have the answers even if they are not clear.  God allows us dizzying freedom to approach him honestly, as we are, where we are.

When I think of what it means to be a person who is permitted to struggle in relationship with God, when I imagine what that looks like, I think of a book and two comedians that have challenged and encouraged me to trust God more than I fear my doubts or questions or struggles.  (You learn theology in all kinds of unexpected places!).

The book: In college, I read a book for a class called The Gospel According to Moses by Athol Dickson, talking about the author’s experience of studying Scripture with Jewish friends and how he initially was taken aback by what to him seemed like irreverence from his companions in their willingness to raise questions about God and Scripture.  Eventually, he comes to see that his friends are the beneficiaries of a long tradition of struggling with God in relationship, even down to the name given the chosen people in the Hebrew Bible itself – Israel.  The author often repeats “God loves an honest question.”  It is a gift to trust that God not only can handle our questions but even welcomes them with joy as a part of our relationship with him.

Comedian #1: The first comedian, Mark Lowry, had a video comedy special that my church growing up had in its little basement library and my siblings and I borrowed it frequently. One of his stories involves being annoyed at the Lord about a circumstance he found himself in, and figuring if you were mad at God you should tell him because if you don’t you’re at risk of lying and you’ll just have to confess that later anyway, and it isn’t as if he doesn’t know.  The logic made a lot of sense to me as an overanxious kid who was very concerned with covering my bases in confessing sins and wanting to be right with God.  This encouraged me in a lot of ways to not be afraid of being real with God (as if you could fool him anyway!).  Growing up my favourite attribute of God was omniscience because I liked knowing that God could never be shocked by anything.  That was something that reassured me of the consistency and perseverance of his love.

Comedian #2: The second comedian was a blogger/author named Jon Acuff who wrote a blog and a book called “Stuff Christians Like.”  One of his pieces involved “faith like a child” and how that concept gets used sometimes to shut down honest questions and real struggles in the church.  He points out that anyone who thinks faith like a child means not having questions has clearly never met a child!  I still laugh about this (even more now having a toddler of my own) and find comfort and confidence in the idea that God is entirely unsurprised and unruffled by a chorus of “but, why?” from all of us, his children.

It’s a little strange to me that a passage wherein God allows Jacob to beat him in a wrestling match is a reminder of how big God is – big enough to handle the struggle, the questions, the doubts, the feelings, whatever we throw at him – even big enough to bless us for it instead of rebuking or punishing our audacity.  Our God doesn’t require unthinking, unfeeling, shallow assent and adoration – he wants us, as ourselves, struggles and questions and confusion and doubt included.