um, i think someone wrote the book i've wanted to write
wrestling with God is a good way to find Him
One of the sons of Jacob, one of the tribes of Israel, is named Naphtali.
And while the Old Testament doesn’t tell us much about him, much less anything super favorable about his character, he’s always been a favorite of mine just because of his name.
It sounds a bit like mine, and I have this recurring thought that, if God ever changed my name to a similar sounding one (like Abram to Abraham and Sarai to Sarah), my change would be from Natalie to Naphtali.
Because Naphtali means “my struggle” or “wrestling.”
And “my struggle” is a nice summary of my faith up to this point.
I’m starting to feel quite relaxed and at home in my faith these days, believe it or not.
And I think it is because of, not in spite of, all the years I’ve wrestled with it.
Also, I think the name Naphtali is so interesting because you know who else’s name means “wrestling”?
His dad’s name.
Israel (formerly known as Jacob).
The dude whose name becomes the shorthand name for the people of God all throughout the Old Testament. Israel. He gets his name from wrestling with God.
If you’re not familiar with the story, it’s in Genesis 32, and I won’t pretend to grasp all of what it’s supposed to communicate.
And there’s a lot more to Jacob’s story before and after, but in this particular episode in the longer tale of Israel’s history, the story goes that Jacob wrestles all night with a mysterious man.
The man is maybe an angel, maybe God. Consult a Hebrew scholar you trust for more info on that point, but just going by the text alone, it seems that the man is, if not God Himself, definitely a direct representative who speaks for Him.
Even after the mysterious man dislocates Jacob’s hip (just by touching it) after wrestling all night long, Jacob doesn’t give up, and he insists on a blessing (which is a habit Jacob has).
“I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
To this, the man asks Jacob’s name and then, in a pattern well established of Yahweh1 by this point in the story, renames him.
“Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have contended with God and with men, and have prevailed.”
Jacob asks for the name of this messenger, but he’s not given that information. He is given a blessing, though we don’t get the blessing spelled out for us as we do other places in Scripture.
And we get Jacob’s—er, Israel’s—assessment of the identity of this mysterious man.
“I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.”
Genesis 32:26-30
And that’s it. That’s the origin story of how Jacob, and thus the people of his lineage, comes to be known as Israel.
The story of Israel starts with literally wrestling with God.
And I love that story so much I can’t stand it.
When I tell you that it has sustained me through so much of my own wrestling, I cannot be emphatic enough.
All the years I sat in pews and Sunday school circles and held back my tears and my questions in the midst of so. much. certainty.2 I would remember Jacob.
I would remember that God blesses our wrestling. He always has. Since the very beginning of the story of His people.
Over time, I have found this to be an abiding truth. I feel it all the way to my bones that God invites my wrestling. I believe that to Him, my honest wrestling is preferable to even the most well meant conformity or feigned, parroted certainty.
I can testify that He has lovingly and consistently met me in my questions, my doubts, my grief, my rage. It’s in the places in me that I used to think I needed to hide where I have, like Jacob, looked most fully in His face.
As she often has for so many parts of my life and story, Jess Ray has put this experience into words for me. In this song, she is singing from the perspective of God. This is His message, sung to us, about His constant and faithful love and pursuit of us.
The final verse captures the wrestling with language that is physical. Even as I fight against God, He is loving me and teaching me to love Him too:
Even if you stomp and scream and huff, tell Me that I'm not good enough
I'll take every swing and every blow, until you know My love
Even if you beat upon My chest, tell Me that you don't understand
I will love you and teach you to love Me again
I'm gonna love you and teach you to love Me again
Jess Ray “Runaway”
Click here to listen to the song.
Click to hear the song and its story.
In another song, Jess Ray captures another image I’ve long held of what this wrestling relationship with God looks like. To be truthful, I can’t recall whether this image occurred to me before of after I heard her lyrics, but here’s how I described it in an old post on my former blog website:
You can run screaming at God and accuse Him of not being real or not being good, like yelling at your Mom, “I hate you!” before storming off to your room and slamming the door.
And He will love you just the same. And wait patiently outside the door for when you decide to come out and crawl back into His arms.
Here’s how Jess puts it, in a song that speaks both to the love and kindness she finds in her marriage and in her relationship with God:3
I revert to a teen drama queen
slinging hateful words that I don’t mean
stomping floors and slamming doors
and cursing what I blessed before
and you, unfazed, steady your gaze
fold your arms, lean back and wait
and claim your win yet again
when you kill me with your kindness
Jess Ray “Kindness”
That’s God for you.
I know that might seem bananas, depending on what your faith traditions and communities have taught you, what you’ve experienced.
But I’m telling you—this is what I have consistently found in years of throwing temper tantrums that only God knows about—He sticks it out. He doesn’t let go. His lovingkindness outlasts my outbursts, and every time, our relationship emerges from them stronger, more secure, in certain ways (dare I say it?), more certain.
So, when all the writers I love4 to follow started sharing this book this week, my curiosity was more than piqued.
I mean, look at this title.
I’ve Got Questions.
That’s a winner right away, but then look at the subtitle!
The Spiritual Practice of Having It Out with God
This is a Naphtali book. This is a book about what I’ve experienced so meaningfully— that being honest about questions and doubts isn’t something to be afraid of but is actually the way forward, that sometimes we don’t get all the answers we want, and that’s okay, that wrestling with God is a good way to get to know Him
So, yeah, I think there’s a chance that Erin Hicks Moon has written the book I’ve been wanting to write.
And I am so excited to read it.
She published the first chapter of it on her Substack here:
I relate to what she’s shared here so much, and I can hardly wait for my copy of I’ve Got Questions to arrive on Monday.
I’ll probably have some thoughts to share here. I also love a good book club, so if you’re interested, hit me up. You know where to find me.
I think just hearing about this book today has helped me reach some new clarity about why I write and why I post and what I’m doing here.
Also, why I’m stepping into leadership in my church where we have “Questioning Faith” printed on our T-shirts.
I want to be a voice and a place and a friend where questions are invited, where it’s okay to wrestle. I want to keep seeking, and I want to be a companion to fellow seekers.
One of my favorite sermons of all time is in Acts 17. I find it relevant to just about everything and hold myself back from including it in every post even though I almost always find something in it that relates.
Paul says, to a crowd that might these days call themselves “spiritual but not religious,” that this is the purpose of God, that this is why He made us:
He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might feel around for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we also are His descendants.’
Acts 17:26-28, emphasis mine
God made us that we would seek Him.
That we might feel around, reach for, grasp for Him and find Him.
Which is ironic because He’s not far from us anyway. In fact, it’s in Him that we have our very existence. It turns out, we don’t have to reach very far to find Him.
According to Paul, some Greek poets who didn’t know Jesus or the Hebrew Scriptures knew this truth just the same: We are His children.
God is never as far as off as He may seem.
And it turns out that wrestling is a good way to find Him.
See again, Abraham and Sarah, the grandparents of Jacob/Israel. (And, it should be also noted, we don’t know Yahweh’s name at this point in the story either. We have to get to Moses and the next book of Exodus for that information, so maybe that’s why Jacob gets no answer as to the man’s name.)
The certainty of other people, of course, in case that’s not abundantly clear.
The dynamic in this household is much the same, dear Jess.
First, it was in Kendra Adachi (The Lazy Genius)’s newsletter. Then Shannan Martin shared about the book in her Substack. I read the first chapter on Erin’s Substack and immediately ordered the book. Then, I pulled up Emily P Freeman’s The Next Right Thing because I had already seen earlier this week that she’d had Erin on the podcast this week to talk about the book. I loved every minute of their conversation this week, and I agreed aloud with them multiple times while listening.