I felt like I was in a tussle with the Lord, but instead of wrestling physically, it was with my words.
I would complain about my lack, and He would reassure me. My response to His reassurance towards me was me rolling my eyes & sinking into unbelief – as if He, the God who cannot lie, was somehow lying to me. As if I knew more than Him because of how overwhelmed I felt in that moment. As if the all-knowing, all-feeling God, didn\’t understand my pleas or my cries.
He reminded me that He has sustained me, that He has provided for our needs, that this season would not take me out, & that He did not bring me here to die – even though that\’s exactly how it felt some days. I kept going, still skeptical, yet He continued to reassure me of His promises.
Then finally, He said \”Don\’t deny what I\’m speaking to you. Don\’t let your pride overtake your humility towards me.\” And even after that correction, He reminded me again that He knows how I\’m feeling, that He hears me, & He sees me.
That going back & forth – my resistance, His reassurance – reminded me so much of Jacob wrestling with God all night in Genesis 32:24-32. Jacob wasn’t wrestling because he hated God. He wasn’t wrestling because he didn’t believe. He was wrestling because he was desperate – desperate for blessing, desperate for protection, desperate for clarity about who he was and who he was becoming.
His physical struggle symbolized an internal one: fear of Esau, fear of the unknown, fear of stepping into a new identity he didn’t fully understand yet.
That\’s exactly where I am. Desperate. Desperate for answers, desperate for validation, desperate for a breakthrough.
I’m not wrestling with God’s existence. I’m wrestling with where He has me right now. I’m wrestling with who I am and who He’s calling me to be. I’m wrestling with the fear of not having enough, not being enough, not knowing enough. I’m wrestling with the tension between what He’s spoken and what I feel.
It truly feels like a battle — not against God, but within myself — and I’ve been bringing that battle to Him every single day.
As I sat with Jacob’s story, something clicked. Jacob didn’t walk away from that night ashamed — he walked away changed. The wrestling exposed what was in him, but it also positioned him for blessing. God didn’t punish him for wrestling; He blessed him because he stayed. And that’s when I realized: my own wrestling wasn’t rebellion. It was God revealing the pride I didn’t know I was carrying, the part of me that thought I had to understand everything before obeying or feel worthy before walking. But just like Jacob, the moment God exposed it, He didn’t leave me there. He corrected me, reassured me, and then reminded me of the calling He already placed on my life. The wrestle wasn’t the end — it was the doorway to what He wants to do next.
And truthfully, this probably won’t be my last word‑tussle with the Lord. I’m human, and my feelings can get loud. But I’m learning that He isn’t easily offended by my honesty. He doesn’t flinch at my frustration or pull away when I’m overwhelmed. He welcomes it — all of it. Every question, every fear, every moment of doubt. And somehow, in the middle of my wrestling, He keeps meeting me with patience, correction, reassurance, and love. If anything, that’s what gives me the courage to keep walking: not that I’ll never wrestle again, but that He’ll be right there with me when I do.