“That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his female servants and his even sons and crossed the ford of Jabbok. After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions. So Jacob was alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” (Genesis 33:22-24 NIV)
Jacob was well one his way to meet his estranged brother. Remember, Jacob had jilted Esau out of both birthright and blessing. Esau had every reason to be mad and Jacob had every reason to expect conflict. But the night before their long-anticipated encounter, Jacob did something we might consider strange. He sent his wives and kids and servants and possessions in ahead. He spent the night wrestling with God in his own.
I am still engaging with the One Minute Pause app. I have found it to be a healthy addition to my daily rhythm. One of my favorite practices within the daily pause is the phrase employed in the first few moments of stillness: “I give You everyone and everything.” I’m still learning palms-up living. I lay my hands open in my lap and repeat it: “I give you everyone and everything.”
It seems like Jacob had a similar reaction when he sent his wives and possessions across the waters. “I give you everyone and everything.”
John Eldredge refers to this practice as benevolent detachment. He defines talks about getting untangled, stepping out of the quagmire, peeling apart the Velcro by which this person, crisis or global issue has attached itself to us.
For me, it’s a means of reminding my soul Who is truly in charge. “I give you everything and everyone.” These simple words chip away at the illusion of Anna as the axis of my world and expose the truth of God as the source of centripetal force.
“I give You everyone and everything.” is a wake up call for my soul: all of this is belongs to God. I can trust His love for me and for my people. I can trust His plans and His purposes. He has over and over again proved Himself to be kind and merciful beyond my wildest imagination. I can surrender to His perfect agenda.
When Jacob sent his family and belongings away, he freed himself up to work it out with God. They got close. They got intimate. They sorted out the issues plaguing Jacob’s soul. And when the sun rose the next morning, Jacob was changed. Heartened and humbled, he was finally ready to meet his brother rightly.
Jacob re-entered the world with a limp. I’d imagine his now-limited physical condition kept him dependent on a holy God. No longer could Jacob rush ahead to defend himself or sneak around to construe the circumstances in his favor. His un-socketed hip slowed him dow to the gait of our three-mile-an-hour God.
The same is true for us. Regular pauses make space in our stories to confer and concede to the Author Himself. Slowing our soul to God’s pace is the relational equivalent of measuring twice and cutting once. Waiting on God means making fewer mistakes. And amazingly, carving out a few minutes to meet with with the Almighty insures us of His with-ness when we resume our regular life.
"Then the Lord said to Jacob, "Go back to the land of your fathers and your relatives and I will be with you." (Genesis 31:3 NIV)
Lord, please forgive us for our predisposition to go it alone. We have left a lot of carnage in our wake. Today we see the messes we’ve made and we crawl close to You for comfort. We acknowledge our impotence in self-repair, we are even less equipped to address our affects on others. You alone can heal souls. It is with this in mind that we give You everyone and everything. We place all our people and all our possessions in Your capable, creative and curative hands. We surrender our stories to Your care. We do this here and now, and we ask that You will continue to help us develop this habit in our hearts. Touch us today in such a way that instills a lifelong limp. We don’t want to walk any further without You. Keep us leaning on Your companionship all the rest of our days. Amen.