There are seasons in ministry when the promises of the Lord remain firmly established in our hearts, yet the circumstances surrounding us seem to test everything we believe. We have preached about His faithfulness, encouraged others to trust His provision, and reminded congregations that the Lord will never abandon His people. We believe these things, and we continue to proclaim them. Yet there are moments when we find ourselves standing in the very valley through which we have helped others walk, wondering how we will navigate the uncertainty that lies before us. It is in these seasons that we must remember that the God we preach to others is also the God who meets us in our own struggles. Our calling does not make us immune to hardship, and our faith does not exempt us from fear, grief, or exhaustion. We are servants of the Lord, but we are also His sons and daughters who need His sustaining grace.
In Genesis 32, we find Jacob preparing for a confrontation he has feared for many years. He is returning to the land of his fathers, and Esau, the brother from whom he had become estranged, is coming to meet him with four hundred men. Jacob is distressed and afraid. He knows the history between them, and he cannot be certain how Esau will respond. Yet Jacob does something that every minister should rely on in a season of difficulty: he prays. In Genesis 32:9–12, Jacob calls upon the God of Abraham and Isaac, acknowledges the Lord’s covenant faithfulness, confesses his own unworthiness, and reminds God of the promise He had made. In verse 12, Jacob declares, “And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good” (KJV). Jacob is not approaching an unfamiliar God. He is appealing to the word the Lord has already spoken.
There is a lesson here that every minister must learn: never be afraid to trust in the dark what God has promised in the light. There will be seasons when the word of the Lord that once seemed so clear is tested by circumstances we never anticipated. The promise has not changed, but the path before us may have become difficult to see. We may find ourselves wrestling through questions for which we have no immediate answers, carrying burdens we never expected to bear, and wondering how the Lord will bring us through what lies ahead. Yet the darkness of our circumstances does not mean that the light of His faithfulness has gone out. We must not allow what we cannot presently see to cause us to forget what we already know of His character, His promises, and His faithfulness. Faith does not require us to understand every turn in the road; it calls us to continue trusting the One who leads us. As the psalmist declares, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Ps. 119:105, KJV). A lamp does not illuminate the entire journey at once, but it gives us light enough to take the next step. And sometimes, dear brethren, that is precisely what the Lord provides: not the answer to every question, but sufficient light and grace to keep walking with Him.
There is something deeply instructive in Jacob’s prayer. He remembers the promise, but remembering the promise does not immediately remove his fear. After praying, he proceeds to arrange his family, divide his possessions, and prepare gifts for Esau in the hope of finding favor in his brother’s sight. We should not necessarily condemn Jacob for making practical preparations. There is wisdom in planning, assessing circumstances, and taking responsible action. Faith is not an excuse for carelessness, nor does trust in God prohibit us from doing what wisdom requires. Yet the narrative places these preparations alongside Jacob’s prayer, allowing us to see the tension between trusting the Lord and attempting to manage an uncertain future. We recognize that tension because we have experienced it ourselves. We pray, we believe, and we confess the promises of God from His Word; then we lie awake at night trying to work out every possible outcome. We know that the Lord is faithful, but we still want to know how everything will turn out.
Ministers are not exempt from this struggle. We carry responsibilities for congregations, families, finances, and the spiritual well-being of those entrusted to our care. We often feel compelled to have an answer, to offer direction, and to demonstrate confidence when others are uncertain. Yet what happens when the difficulty is not something we can resolve with a sermon, a meeting, a plan, or a well-chosen word of counsel? What happens when the circumstances are beyond our control, when the medical report brings more questions than answers, when anxiety begins to affect our daily lives, or when someone we love is walking through suffering that we cannot take away? In those moments, we discover anew that we are not the source of the strength we have so often encouraged others to seek. We, too, must depend upon the Lord.
Jacob’s journey brings him to the ford of Jabbok. He sends his family and possessions across the stream and finds himself alone. Genesis 32:24 tells us, “And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day” (KJV). The identity of this mysterious figure has been understood in different ways within Jewish and Christian interpretation. The passage later speaks of Jacob seeing God face to face, and Hosea 12:3–5 offers a complimentary reflection upon the encounter in terms of Jacob’s struggle with a divine messenger. Many Christian interpreters therefore understand the figure as a theophany, a manifestation of the Lord’s presence. Whatever precise explanation we offer concerning the figure’s identity, the narrative makes one truth unmistakable: Jacob’s night of fear becomes an encounter with the God who has been accompanying him on his journey.
Notice where this encounter takes place. It does not occur after Jacob has resolved his family conflict, secured his future, or demonstrated that he has everything under control. It happens while he is alone, before he knows what the morning will bring. Jacob has prayed, made his preparations, and reached the boundary of what he can accomplish through his own efforts. And there, in the darkness, he encounters the Lord. Sometimes we imagine that we will experience God’s presence most clearly when our difficulties have passed and we can finally breathe again. Scripture reminds us, however, that God is not confined to the other side of our troubles. He meets His people in the middle of them.
As the struggle continues, Jacob’s hip is put out of joint. The encounter leaves him wounded, yet Jacob refuses to release his hold. When the mysterious figure tells him to let go, Jacob responds, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me” (Gen. 32:26, KJV). This is not a picture of a man who has everything figured out. It is the cry of someone who now understands that his future depends upon the blessing of God. Jacob has spent much of his life striving, grasping, and attempting to secure what he desired. Now, at Jabbok, he clings to the One whose blessing he cannot manufacture for himself.
There is a lesson here for those of us who serve in ministry. We can become so accustomed to being the ones who encourage others that we forget our own need to hold fast to the Lord. We may feel that our calling requires us to appear strong at all times, but biblical faithfulness is not the same as pretending to possess unlimited strength. There are seasons when our most honest prayer is not an eloquent declaration but a simple plea: “Lord, I need You. I do not know how this will unfold, but I cannot walk through it without You.” Such a prayer is not a failure of ministry. It is an expression of dependence upon the One who called us in the first place.
Jacob receives a blessing, but he does not leave the encounter physically unchanged. His hip has been injured, and from that point forward he walks differently. The sun rises upon him as he passes Penuel, but he carries the mark of the night with him. His encounter with God has not erased the difficulty before him. Esau is still ahead, and the reconciliation that follows must still take place. Yet Jacob now walks toward that uncertain future as a man who has encountered God in a way that will remain with him. His limp becomes a lasting reminder that the blessing of God does not always come to us through the preservation of our strength. Sometimes our deepest lessons in dependence emerge through the very experiences that reveal our weakness.
There is an interesting detail in the Hebrew text that invites further reflection. In Genesis 32:30, Jacob names the place Peniel (פְּנִיאֵל), declaring that he has seen God face to face. Yet in the following verse, the narrative refers to the place as Penuel (פְּנוּאֵל), Genesis 32:31, as Jacob passes through the morning light, limping because of his hip. Jewish commentators have offered several explanations for this variation. One traditional commentary suggests that Jacob’s understanding of the encounter deepened as he recognized that he had not emerged untouched by the struggle.[1] What began as a testimony to Jacob’s persistence in seeking God’s blessing became a reminder that the encounter had also left its mark upon him. We should be cautious about insisting that the difference in spelling must carry this meaning, but the interpretation offers a valuable pastoral lesson: an encounter with the Lord does not always leave us without wounds. We may receive His blessing and still carry the marks of our struggle. We may discover His faithfulness without receiving the outcome we originally desired. Yet the wound does not erase the blessing, and the limp does not mean the journey is over. Jacob continued walking, the sun rose upon him, and the Lord’s mercies were renewed (Lam. 3:22–23). So, too, we must learn to recognize the faithfulness of God even when we carry the consequences of a difficult season into the days ahead.
I find this truth especially meaningful in the season of life and ministry through which I am presently walking. Recently, I have been confronted with the discovery of a walnut-sized nodule on my thyroid that must be removed. I have also been receiving treatment for anxiety, acknowledging a struggle that can affect even those of us who have spent years encouraging others to trust the Lord (see previous article here). At the same time, my beloved wife, Renee, is fighting leptomeningeal disease, a devastating progression of her cancer that has brought our family face-to-face with uncertainty and the painful limitations of what medicine can do. There are realities in this season that I cannot resolve through pastoral counsel, personal determination, or the strength of my own faith. I cannot simply preach away the anxiety, remove the uncertainty of a medical evaluation, or take away my wife’s suffering by willing it to be different.
I share these things not to draw attention to my own circumstances, nor to suggest that my struggles are greater than those of another minister. Every one of us has a story that others may not fully see. I share them because I want my fellow ministers to know that the person standing in the pulpit, leading a congregation, overseeing a ministry, or providing spiritual direction may also be walking through a difficult and deeply personal valley. We can love the Lord sincerely and still need treatment. We can believe His promises and still grieve. We can continue to fulfill our calling while admitting that some days are harder than others. There is no shame in acknowledging our humanity before the God who created us and called us to serve Him.
Why, then, should we continue? Why not give up? Why not step away from ministry altogether when the burdens become too heavy? These are questions that may arise in the quiet places of a minister’s heart, especially when several difficulties converge and the emotional cost becomes difficult to bear. I do not believe the answer is that we must remain in every assignment indefinitely, maintain the same pace regardless of our circumstances, or refuse every opportunity to rest. There are seasons when responsibilities must be adjusted, when we need the help of others, and when a period of rest is both necessary and wise. Our calling is not sustained by denying our limitations. Nevertheless, we must be careful not to interpret a difficult season as evidence that God has abandoned us or that our ministry has lost its purpose. Please remember, we can be examples in faith even in deep valleys, as the author of Hebrews writes, “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Heb. 13:7, ESV).
The Lord continually meets us where we are. He provides for us, gives direction, strengthens us, and places people alongside us to help us bear what we cannot carry alone. Sometimes His provision comes through an unexpected answer to prayer; sometimes it comes through a physician, a counselor, a faithful friend, a fellow minister, or a congregation that quietly offers support. Sometimes His direction comes one step at a time rather than through a complete explanation of what lies ahead. We may want the Lord to show us the entire road, but He often gives us sufficient light for the next step. The apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9 that the Lord’s grace is sufficient and that His strength is made perfect in weakness. Paul does not say that weakness is pleasant or that suffering should be sought. He testifies that the grace of Messiah is sufficient even where human strength reaches its limits.
This is why we must not confuse our circumstances with the faithfulness of God. In Genesis 32, Jacob’s fear is real, his struggle is real, and his injury is real. Yet the presence of these things does not negate the covenant promises that brought him to this point. The Lord had not forgotten what He had spoken. Jacob’s journey was not over simply because he had reached a difficult night. Likewise, the hardships we experience do not automatically mean that we have missed God’s direction, lost His favor, or become disqualified from serving His people. We must remain open to His correction, willing to receive counsel, and prepared to make adjustments when necessary. But we must also remember that hardship, by itself, is not proof of abandonment.
For those of us who read Scripture through a messianic lens, the promise of God’s sustaining presence finds a beautiful expression in the words of the Lord to Israel: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God” (Isa. 41:10, KJV). The promise is not that Israel would never encounter opposition or adversity, but that the Lord would be present with His people and sustain them. In the New Covenant Scriptures, we hear a corresponding assurance in Hebrews 13:5–6: He will never leave nor forsake His people, and therefore we may confidently declare that the Lord is our helper. These promises do not give us permission to presume upon God or dictate how He must act. They give us a foundation upon which to stand when we cannot see the outcome.
The Messiah whom we serve also understands suffering. Hebrews 4:15–16 reminds us that our great High Priest is able to sympathize with our weaknesses and invites us to approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and find help in time of need. We do not approach a distant God who is indifferent to our tears. We come through Yeshua, who entered our human experience and knows the reality of suffering. The invitation is not reserved for the days when our faith feels strong or our prayers come easily. It is an invitation to draw near precisely because we need mercy and grace.
To my fellow ministers, I want to offer this encouragement: do not mistake the difficulty of your present season for the absence of the Lord’s hand upon your life. If you are tired, acknowledge it. If you are grieving, allow yourself to grieve. If anxiety has become difficult to manage, seek appropriate help. If you need to step back temporarily, invite trusted leaders to help you discern how best to care for yourself and those entrusted to you. You are not less spiritual because you need support, and you are not less faithful because you cannot carry every burden alone. The body of Messiah was never intended to function as a collection of isolated servants who are expected to bear every hardship in silence.
And when you find yourself at your own Jabbok, remember Jacob. You may enter the night afraid, uncertain, and exhausted. You may leave with questions still unanswered and wounds that will take time to heal. Yet the Lord can meet you there. He can sustain you through the struggle, teach you to depend upon Him more deeply, and give you grace to take the next step. The goal is not to emerge from every trial untouched, as though nothing has happened to us. The goal is to remain faithful to the One who has called us, allowing even our struggles to deepen our dependence upon Him and our compassion for those we serve.
I do not write these words as someone who has already reached the other side of every present difficulty. I write as a fellow servant who is still praying, still trusting, and still learning to walk by faith. I do not know every detail of what tomorrow will bring for my family or me. But I know that the Lord has been and will continue to be faithful, and I have reason to continue looking to Him. My hope is not that I will always possess sufficient strength for every challenge. My hope is that His grace will be sufficient when my strength is not.
Jacob’s encounter at Jabbok reminds us that the morning comes after the night, even when we carry the marks of our struggle into the new day. His walk changed, but his journey continued. So may it be with us. We may not be able to control every circumstance, prevent every loss, or understand every moment of providence. But we can continue to seek the Lord, hold fast to His promises, receive His provision, and walk in the direction He gives us.
May the Lord strengthen every pastor and servant of Messiah who is presently wrestling through a difficult and challenging season. May He remind you that you are not forgotten, that your need for grace does not diminish your calling, and that you need not walk alone. And may the faithfulness of God become increasingly visible, not because our lives are free from struggle, but because His sustaining presence carries us through it.
We may walk with a limp, but by the grace of God, we will continue walking with Him.
In the service of Messiah and His Church,
Bp. Justin D. Elwell
Restoration Fellowship International
[1] Ha’amek Davar, Rabbi Naphtali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, commentary on Genesis 32:30–31.
