Under the veil of the star-filled expanse,

 By Jabbok’s waters, in moonlight’s dance,

Jacob lingered, his thoughts a storm,

Awaiting fate, both dark and warm.

A stranger emerged from shadow’s depth,

Their gaze unyielding, their silence deft.

Locked in combat, mortal and divine,

Through night’s deep hours, their fates entwined.

“Release me now,” the stranger implored,

 As dawn prepared to light the world.

Yet Jacob clung with steady might,

 “I’ll not let go till blessings ignite.”

A touch-a-pain that marked his stride,

But blessings bloomed where wounds reside.

“Your name is Israel,” the voice decreed,

“For you’ve wrestled and prevailed indeed.”

The sun ascended, casting light anew,

He crossed the stream, his limp a truth.

Forever marked by the holy fight,

A testament to enduring night.

© Unknown Christian

We all wrestle with God one time or another. Plus, it is when someone close to us gets ill that we wrestle the most. A poignant thought, touched on a deep truth. Times of illness or hardship, especially when they affect someone we love, can shake our faith or make us wrestle with questions we’d rather avoid. It’s in those moments that the struggle feels raw asking “why them?” or “why now?” Yet, like Jacob, it’s often in the wrestling that we find a new name, a deeper understanding, or an unexpected blessing.