Wrestling with God

The theme of Chapter 8 of Ron Wolfson’s God’s To-Do List is “Wrestle,” or to be more specific, Wrestling with God. He writes of the ways in which wrestling with God can and does come in many forms. Patriarch Abraham wrestles with his words, hurling ethical conundrums with the practiced aplomb of a philosopher and, while adopting the affect of a deferential supplicant, skillfully wheedles his own moral standards into God’s plans. Skip a generation and the morally flawed Jacob, also a biblical hero, wrestles quite literally by engaging in hand-to-hand combat in a fight for physical supremacy.

The unwritten subtext of this discussion is that the need to wrestle with God most often comes about as the result of another “w” word: why. We wonder why, and in so doing, we wrestle with God, with our faith, with our spirituality. Knowing what we know about human nature, this makes sense. In times when the world around us seems particularly tumultuous, a personal relationship with God is often a source of comfort. One of the primary reasons that people take the time to develop a personal relationship with God in the first place is to feel a little bit less alone in the unreliable, unpredictable, topsy-turvy place we call home. Yet ironically, it is precisely in the times of our greatest need, the times when we don’t get what we want, when we experience the most profound tragedies and the greatest sorrows, that a little bell starts to peal madly in our heads and we begin to question the very foundation on which we have carefully crafted our own sense of stability. These questions are broadly lumped into the term “questions of faith” and can be seen as a desire to understand why certain things have befallen us. Often inevitable, then, is the question: why has this tragedy/strife/confusion/struggle befallen me and why has God abandoned me and allowed it to happen?

While some religious philosophers would be aghast, this does not concern Wolfson. Instead, he encourages a wrestling match with God. You should not fear asking questions of God, of confronting God with the injustices that have fallen at your feet, so his argument goes, because God can handle it. Wrestling is not a precarious foray into an atheist abyss, but an unavoidable feature of any close relationship. You will come away a changed person. Having trusted God to be there with you through your struggle and leading you to a life of blessing, you will be stronger.
Surely part of the reason that Shelby asked me to share my thoughts on this chapter is because I have (somewhat publicly) had my own wrestling match this summer. Many of you who know me know that over the course of this summer, I have been dealt with another morally neutral, yet emotionally-ambiguous “w” word: the law school Waiting List. I call this particular institution – and for those who are unfamiliar, it certainly is its own institution with its own rules, protocol and etiquette – morally neutral because it is neither a good thing nor a bad thing, in the sense that it is neither a rejection nor an acceptance. It is emotionally-ambiguous because it walks the spectrum from joyful glee when it turns into an acceptance on one end, to the numbing pain of rejection on the other. Each day that hangs in the balance is something that is just that, in the middle.

I’ve heard from many people that they don’t envy my position, the ambiguity, and the risks of playing the odds. All things being equal, I’d also be just as happy to have certainty on my side. The struggle is in knowing that while I may have God on my side, that does not guarantee the outcome I want. And while I know that there are people out there whose sorrows make my struggles look comparatively negligible, this has been a struggle. Especially because mine is a waiting game where patience is a virtue that is not necessarily rewarded with anything at the end. Because though my faith seems so certain when I am in a position where I am thanking God for my good fortune, at exactly the time when my relationship with God is most important (ie. in a time when I need all the stability I can get), it’s hard not to wonder why unfortunate things happen to good people.

Wolfson’s chapter doesn’t give an answer to this question. I take more comfort from the answer I find for myself in the anecdotes about good people who wrestle with God as the direct result of some unthinkable tragedy. They struggle. They wrestle. They do not overcome, they do not forget, but they move forward. Tumble headlong into the wrestling match, Wolfson seems to exhort, and this is the advice I take. Embrace the uncertainty, it is okay to question, to be unsure. At the very moment when slamming the proverbial door into God’s face seems like it is the most prudent course of action, I know that I am not alone. Everyone struggles at one point or another. So I will argue with God, reason with God, question God. It takes two to tango, and two to converse – I am not alone.

So I urge you too, in times when you are unsure and want to shrug away that which is most familiar, to question, argue and wrestle. But as you trudge across the beach, just remember not to be too surprised when you turn around and find two sets of footprints in the sand. – Robbie Rogart, Camp CBI Counselor and Sunday School Teacher