Shacha! He bowed low with his face to the ground.
Welcome friends. Tonight we're stepping into
one of the rawest mornings in scripture. When
the sun rises over the river Jabbok and Jacob,
limping and renamed, sees his past walking straight
towards him. No music, swell, no promises, just
a man, a wound, and 400 men led by the brother
he betrayed. This is a story about grace that
doesn't come to rescue from the meeting, but
walks you into it instead. And right now, you're
joining us just after our midweek fellowship
meal. We've just finished up dinner. Frito chili
pies tonight. A little messy, a lot comforting.
And now it's time to settle in for our Wednesday
night Bible study. Bibles are open. Folks are
pulling chairs close. The air still smells like
corn chips and hospitality. Wherever you're listening
from, I hope you can feel like you're a part
of the room. So grab your Bible or just your
attention, and I'll see you on the other side.
So we're going to do it this way. But before
I begin, Wayne says thumbs up. So, we are, in
the end, pulled up the wrong one. This is the
one we want. Now, we didn't meet last week, but
if you happen to catch a little advertisement
for my podcast, right? If you wanted to hear,
we talked about what we would have talked about
last week. You can go back and listen to it.
It's called The Semi -Seminarian. And what we
talked about was the story about Jacob being
on the banks of the Jabbok River. He's headed
back home, and he encounters God in the night
and wrestles with God. God touches his hip and
injures him. He walks with a limp for the rest
of his life as a result. So if you have heard
it, then you know I'm going to do the companion
next story. If you haven't, that's where we're
at today. And where we're at is, yes, Jacob has
wrestled with Esau. Sorry, Jacob has wrestled
with God. And Jacob has been given a new name,
Israel, for one who wrestles with God. But he
still has to cross over the river to meet his
brother Esau. And if you recall, when they were
last together, they weren't on the best of terms.
Because Jacob had actually tricked his older
brother out of his birthright, if you remember.
And now we have the reunion. So I think it's
important because the Bible does something that,
honestly, we can rush right past it. And that
is, after this wrestling with God, the sun still
comes up. Genesis chapter 32, where we find that
story, ends. With dawn breaking over the river
Jacob, Jacob limping, he's now renamed. He's
breathing hard. He's still alive. And when we
turn the page to Genesis 33, it doesn't reset
the tension. It doesn't give us a happy montage.
It doesn't say, and everything was fine now.
It says, Jacob lifted up his eyes and looked,
and behold, Esau was coming with him, 400 men.
That's how his morning starts. No music swell,
no narrator voice assuring everyone everything's
going to be okay. Just a man with a wounded hip
looking up, seeing the thing he's been running
from for the last 20 years, walking straight
towards him. With 400 men. If you remember that
number from Genesis 32 and 6, the messengers
came back and said, your brother is coming to
meet you and 400 men are with him. Jacob had
all night to let that sink into his gut while
he was wrestling with God in the dark. And this
does not sound like any happy family reunion.
It says that there are consequences. It says
the thing that you might have been running from
also has legs. Sun comes up on the side of the
river where grace lives. Water is behind him.
The limp is not going away. What's ahead is not
strategy. It's a meeting. And meetings don't
care how holy you were in the dark. Friends,
the reading of Holy Scripture. First chapter
of the Bible, Genesis 33, beginning with verse
1. Jacob lifted up his eyes and looked. Behold,
Esau was coming with him, 400 men. He divided
the children to Leah, to Rachel, and to two servant
girls. Put the servant girls and the children
in front, Leah and her children afterward, and
Rachel and Joseph last. He himself passed over
in front of them. bowed himself to the ground
seven times until he came near his brother. Esau
ran to meet him, embracing him. He fell on his
neck, kissed him, and they wept. He lifted up
his eyes and saw the woman and the children and
said, Are these with you? He said, These children
God has graciously given your servant. The servant
girls came near with their children, and they
bowed themselves. Leah also and her children
came near and bowed themselves. And then Joseph
came near with Rachel, and they bowed themselves.
Esau said, What do you mean by all of this company
which I meet? He said, To find favor in the sight
of my Lord. Esau said, I have enough, brother.
Let that which is yours be yours. And Jacob said,
Please, no. If I have not found favor in your
sight, then receive my present at my hand, because
I have seen your face as the one who sees the
face of God, and you are pleased with me. Thus
ends the reading of Holy Scripture. Church, that's
not fiction. That's not Hallmark. That's Scripture
telling the truth about mercy. So let me ask
you something, because... This text won't let
us hide from it. What are you afraid of? Not
the abstract stuff. Not the economy or the future.
I mean specific things with a specific name and
a face. Is it a phone call you know is coming?
Conversation you've been postponing so long that
silence itself has become a lie? The courtroom
where your name gets read out loud? The person
you hurt who still remembers your voice. Have
you ever stood in front of something you couldn't
outrun anymore? Have you ever looked up, seen
the consequences walking straight towards you?
Not because you lack faith, but because memory
has a very long reach. Jacob remembers. He remembers.
The stew and the lie and the stolen blessing.
He remembers his brother's voice breaking when
he found out. And here's the thing. Here's the
holy tension sitting in his chest right now.
Jacob has already been blessed. He's already
been renamed. He's already wrestled with God
and lived. He is Israel. And none of that. Hear
me. None of that. cancels this meeting that he
still has to walk into. Faith doesn't erase memory.
Faith teaches us how to stand in front of it
without lying anymore. So here's my question.
What if grace doesn't get you out of the meeting?
What if grace just changes how you walk into
it? You're Jacob with me. You're Jacob, right?
Stay with me here. Your hip is screaming. Every
step reminds you what it costs to tell the truth
about your name. The sun is in your eyes. You
can count the men behind your brother. 400 and
none of them look like they have come for a reunion.
Your family is behind you. You have arranged
them. Servant girls and their kids up front.
Leah and her children next. Rachel and Joseph
last. Maybe that's strategy. Maybe that's old
habits dying slowly. But then something shifts.
You don't send anyone ahead. You don't let the
girls do the talking. And you don't hide. Verse
3 says, he himself passed over in front of them.
When's the last time? You walked out in front
of something you were absolutely terrified of.
When is the last time that you stopped using
other people as human shields and just showed
up? And Jacob bows once, twice, seven times.
That Hebrew word there is shakah. And it is what
you do before a king. It's worship language.
This is not just etiquette. This is not being
polite. This is repentance with dirt on your
knees. Every time your forehead touches the ground,
that's another piece of the old lie dying. Seven
times. Seven, because that's the number of completion.
He's bowing all the way down to the bottom of
what he owes. He's not trying to manage the outcome
anymore. He's not working an angle. He's just
being honest. Then, the brother runs towards
him. Not walks, runs. Grown men with 400 soldiers
and 20 years of justified rage does not run unless
something stronger than anger has broken. He
doesn't wait for you to finish bowing. He doesn't
make you crawl towards him. He throws his arms
around you. He kisses you. And you both leave.
Not just him. Not just you, both. Because forgiveness
doesn't mean the past didn't hurt, but it does
mean the pain no longer has the final word. Now,
here's where the text does something I think
that'll preach if you let it. Jacob says to Esau,
I have seen your face as one who sees the face
of God, and you were pleased with me. Listen
for that echo. Last night at the river, Jacob
named the place Peniel. It means the face of
God. He said, I've seen God face to face, and
my life has been preserved. That was grace in
the dark. Grace as wound. Grace that renamed
him and cost him something. Now in the daylight,
standing in front of the brother he has most
assuredly wronged, Jacob sees that same face
again. Grace comes twice. Grace in the dark as
a wound that renames you. Grace in the light.
as reconciliation that frees you. And that tells
us something essential about how God actually
works. Sometimes God meets you directly. Sometimes,
friends, God meets you through the person you
were afraid of. The night didn't prepare Jacob
to win the meeting. It prepared him. to receive
mercy without trying to control it. That's why
he insists that Esau take the gift. Esau says,
I have enough, my brother. And Jacob says, listen
closely, friends, please let me give this not
to buy peace, but because peace has already been
given. Let me give it. Because I've seen your
face and it looks like God's. It's not the man
who traded Stu for a future. That's Israel now.
So let's bring it home. Because some of us have
already crossed the river. You've had the night.
You've had the wrestling. You've told the truth
about your name. And maybe you've been wounded
in a way that didn't kill you. It certainly changed
the way you walk. Now the sun is up. You can
see what's coming. Apology that you don't know
how to put words to yet. The relationship that
just can't be managed anymore. The meeting that
scares you more than the wrestling did. Some
people you hurt. will not forgive you. Some bridges
you burn will stay burned. Scripture, friends,
is most assuredly honest about that. But grace
doesn't guarantee outcomes. Grace guarantees
presence. You don't have to meet them as the
old version of yourself anymore. You can walk
slower now, the limp. makes you. You can walk
humbler now because the wound teaches you. And
you can walk now without having to pretend you're
bulletproof. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes,
the thing you feared most turns out to be the
place where mercy shows its face. Not because
you earned it. not because you finally got it
all put together, but because God went to work
on you in the dark, and the work God does in
the dark prepares you for the light. So, may
the God of Isaac, Abraham, and Jacob, the God
who is not afraid of complicated people, God
who wrestles liars into truth -tellers, meet
you on your side of the river tonight. May you
cross into what's coming, not healed of every
wound, but honest enough to finally stop pretending.
May you bow without shame. May you walk forward
without a script. May you recognize the face
of God when mercy runs towards you in the daylight.
And if you limp, and you will, may it be to limp.
Of someone who has been held by God and will
tell the truth about it. The sun is up. The river
is behind you. The meeting is ahead. So walk
on. Amen. Amen. Thanks, guys. I would not call
that awesome. As we close tonight, I want you
to sit with this. Race doesn't always cancel
the consequences, but it does change the kind
of person who shows up to face them. Jacob didn't
cross the river healed. He crossed it honest.
And sometimes that is the holiest way forward.
So if you're carrying a limp, if you've got a
meeting you can't manage or a past that still
walks towards you, know this. You're not alone.
And you don't have to be the old version of yourself
anymore. Grace has gone to work on you in the
dark, so let it walk with you in the light. And
if something in tonight's word landed, if you
heard something fresh, something that maybe made
you sit up straighter or breathe a little deeper,
go ahead and toss a like in the offering plate,
just like we used to pass it down the queue.
That's your way of saying, I'm here. I heard
it. And if you'd like to keep walking with us
into the new year, hit that subscribe button.
That way, you'll know exactly when the church
is gathering again. Until then, limp if you must,
but walk on. And as always, be blessed.