The Wrestler

Inside the thirty foot line, the circle-world of pain, contest and fatigue, lies this struggle of man- of Jacob left alone.

With fear, sweat, blood and toil he grabs to take, at war against himself, his own self- made god.

 In short time exhaustion comes, fatigue and sinews drawn, for loss and victory is certain now, assured only to One.

Humbled man, your little god is now so small and weak, would you yet cling, and seek the blessing of a permanent limp?

 Would you now, not deserving, receive your new name, “Deceiver” no more but “Israel”; “Haser”, my child, you no longer lack.

 Oh humbled lad, defeated, yet victorious, in the grip of Champion Everlasting, who never tires of love poured out- to sacrifice.

 And still the blessings come, and yet, He wrestles on.