Confession: I am far crueler to myself in my own head than I would ever dare be to a friend. Anyone else? Who are you to lead anyone else when you can barely lead your own family? Who are you to speak up when someone else could say it better? Who are you to preach God’s grace when you struggle to simply love your own people? Do the questions accusations sound familiar? In chapter 3 of Relentless, I tell the story from Genesis 32, of a wrestling match between Jacob and God. Jacob, refusing to let go until he’s blessed, wrestles with God through the night. Come morning, God does indeed bless Jacob, but he also leaves him with something else A limp. While several details of this story still elude me, one thing is certain: despite securing the firstborn blessing, riches, and multiple wives, it’s clear that Jacob is desperate for God. “He has, for all intents and purposes, the good life. But he’s still missing something.” The thing about those pesky limps is that every single one of us walks with one. The struggles vary in nature and degree—neediness, detachment, defensiveness—but no one is exempt. *hint: thinking we are exempt from a limp is a limp. While we all ache for our weaknesses to be met with grace and patience, it can be equally as challenging to meet the ahem somewhat annoying ahem dysfunction of others with the same empathy and compassion we crave to receive. If we dig deep enough, however, the flip side of annoyance is often empathy; our approach determines the results. Where annoyance leads to dissonance, empathy fosters connection. Where impatience breeds conflict, forbearance births solidarity. “…there’s beauty in the hanging on to God, and beauty in the wresting. And, I’m learning, there’s even beauty in the limp.” After Jacob lives to tell of an all-night wrestling duel with the Divine, he does not detail the pain, the sweat, the struggle. He doesn’t even mention it. What Jacob recalls is God’s face. “After that long night of wrestling with God, what Jacob remembered wasn’t the wrestling or the limp. He remembered the face of God.” It was the limp that led to the blessing. When we choose to be honest, humble, and vulnerable about the reality of our imperfections, we make room to recognize our desperation for the perfect presence of God. The limp serves as a reminder that we cannot do this life on our own. Not only do we experience intimacy with God through acknowledging our shortcomings, but we welcome more meaningful connection with one another. “The fact that I live with this broken body, & broken spirit at times, is constantly reminding me of my absolute, utter dependence on God. But it also reminds me of my dependence on others. We need each other.” The wrestling match with God marked Jacob for the rest of his life. In addition to the limp, God also gave him a new name—Israel. The name memorialized that Jacob had struggled with God and with man and had overcome. He walked away with a limp, and God still named him an OVERCOMER. God didn’t define him by the flaw, but by his blessed identity as a child of God. “… your limp isn’t the beginning of your disqualification. It’s your first step toward healing.” Then Jacob followed suit. He named the place where he struggled with God “Peniel,” meaning I saw God face to face and yet lived. He named the night of his greatest struggle after the God who saw him through it. Now, it’s your turn.