Wrestling with God

I ran across this poem while studying for my Story of Christian Spirituality class. It is one of Charles Wesley's most famous poems about the story of Jacob wresling with God in Genesis 32. Throughout my life, my struggle has not been so much with some mysterious evil force (Satan, demons, bad things happening) but with God himself. His nature, his ways, his thoughts. To me, I don't see how God could have created this world without knowing it was inevitable that man would fall (I mean afterall, he's supposed to be a pretty smart person right?). So I wonder why God created it in the first place, in the way he did. I wonder why he doesn't seem to intervene as much as I would expect him to (like in matters of sickness...his interventions seem so few, and we attribute healings to him...but when one is not healed we sit back and don't want to bring God into the picture, becuase we might find him wanting). But maybe that is what this life is for those of us who don't find our struggles with the force of evil (we might call this Satan), but with the force of good (we might call this God). And so I understand why Jacob wrestled with God and why Jacob wouldn't let him go without answers. If I were in Jacob's position, I too would wrestle...


Come, O Thou Traveler unknown,
whom still I hold, but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
and I am left alone with thee;
with thee all night I mean to stay
and wrestle till the break of day.

I need not tell thee who I am,
my misery and sin declare;
thyself hast called me by my name,
look on thy hands and read it there.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.

In vain thou strugglest to get free,
I never will unloose my hold;
art thou the man that died for me?
The secret of thy love unfold;
wrestling, I will not let thee go
till I thy name, thy nature know.

Wilt thou not yet to me reveal
thy new, unutterable name?
Tell me, I still beseech thee, tell,
to know it now resolved I am;
wrestling, I will not let thee go,
till I thy name, thy nature know.

'Tis all in vain to hold thy tongue
or touch the hollow of my tigh;
though every sinew be unstrung,
out of my arms shalt not fly;
wrestling I will not let thee go,
till I thy name, thy nature know.

What though my shrinking flesh complain
and murmur to contend so long?
I rise superior to my pain:
when I am weak then I am strong,
and when my all of strength shall fail
I shallith the God-man prevail.

My strength is gone, my nature dies,
I sink beneath thy weighty hand,
faint to revive, and fall to rise;
I fall, and yet by faith I stand;
I stand and will not let thee go
till I thy name, thy nature know.

Yield to me now - for I am weak
but confident in self-despair!
Speak to my heart, in blessing speak,
be conquered by my instant prayer:
speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
and tell me if thy name is Love.

'Tis Love! 'tis Love! thou diedst for me,
I hear thy whisper in my heart.
The morning break, the shadows flee,
pure Universal Love thou art:
to me, to all, thy mercies move-
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

My prayer hath power with God; the grace
unspeakable I now receive;
through faith I see thee face to face,
I see thee face to face, and live!
In vain I have not wept and strove-
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

I know thee, Saviour, who thou art,
Jesus the feeble sinner's friend;
nor wilt thou with the night depart,
but stay and love me to the end:
thy mercies never shall remove,
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

The Sun of Righteousness on me
hath risen with healing in his wings:
withered my nature's strength; from thee
my soul its life and succor brings;
my help is all laid up above;
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

Contented now upon my thigh
I halt, till life's short journey end;
all helplessness, all weakness I
on thee alone for strength depend;
nor have I power from thee to move:
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

Lame as I am, I take the prey,
hell, earth, and sin with ease overcome;
I leap for joy, pursue my way,
and as a bounding hart fly home,
through all eternity to prove
thy nature, and thy name is Love.

Charles Wesley, 1742