When I read the story of how Jacob wrestled with God and had his hip broken, I easily see myself doing the same.
Me: Look here, Lord, you're gonna give me what I want!
Him: No! You don't know what you're asking! It's not time!
Me: I want it now or else we're gonna be here all night!
(He touches my hip and "Crack!")
Me: Shitttttttt!
So now, here I am, broken. Broken because that's where He wants me. The place of reckoning. A place where I can do nothing, but hear undesirable necessary words.
This voice guides me out of the brokenness, the mess I have made of myself. It desperately wants to heal the brokenness. And I desperately need the healing.
I am in awe of how He continually puts up with my mess. Even when I lie and say I'll never do it again.
Lord,
Don't give up on me. That's a ridiculous statement. You haven't. You know me better than anyone, and you still haven't.
Allow me to see the things that need reckoning. Allow yourself to heal those things. Break them from me first if they are enabling me to selfishly wrestle with you.
Thanks for not literally breaking my hip. That would suck.
Love.
Amen.
