O! Jacob, how I long to know thee!

“Oh, you. You just couldn’t let me go, could you?  This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren’t you? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”  Joker in The Dark Knight

Jacob wrestled with God and Joker wrestles with Batman.  I wrestle with God, but I like how Joker speaks of the relationship, as opposed to what Scripture says about Jacob’s relationship with God.

I think that, perhaps, later on in life I’ll look at my wrestling with God in a more Jacobian light, but, as for now… no. Jacob had the world on a string, but, in fear, needed certainty; wrestled with faithful assurance and came out victorious.  I don’t see myself like that, nor do I see my interaction with God playing out like that most of the time.  Sure, I seek assurance and wrestle with God, pleading for it at times.
But that’s not a constant reality.

Like I said, I think the Joker quote gets at how I perceive my reality as I see it now, if I deify Batman and play the role of Joker.
But God doesn’t want to let me go, he is an immovable object that is relentless in his pursuit and engagement of me, but I, I am an unstoppable force, bound in determine to do life my way, regardless of the rules I care to break and the voices I choose not to listen to.  I don’t want chaos, instead, like the Joker, I want my own unity, as deranged as that may look.  Or, perhaps it looks incredibly logical and sensible.

Now God has every right to smite me.  He probably should, too, I’m guilty of plenty.  It would be the logical role of a judge, and God is a judge, thus, he should judge me.  Yet, of course his righteousness is not misplaced, he won’t smite me just because he’s the righteous judge.  He’s more dynamic than that, and truly incorruptible in that dynamism.  Whether I acknowledge it or not every minute of the day, I know deep within that God doesn’t want to let me go.
For that reason I can’t let God go.  It’s as if I am playing a game with him, seeing how angry I can get with him, seeing how far I think I might be able to stray all while knowing that there will be some reuniting in the end with me catching up to him and him turning round with open arms.  How far can I think I might be able to run before I feel like I’ve run too far and are nearing an impossible return?
It’s a lot more mental than material.
I don’t go out and actually live life running away from God committing regrettable acts. I think that would be, for me, crossing the barrier of an impossible return.  It’s a head game and it’s maniacal, really.  It’s why I think I’m like the Joker.  The way I interact with God just baffles me when I actually sit and reflect on it.

I don’t think, however, that this will go on forever.  It often feels that way.  The cycle repeats, as if to never end, waves of revelation crash in only to have the beach runaway from the next one, again and again.
In the end, though, I know that a tsunami will come and swallow me whole, be it death or that joyous point in life that comes through the back door, leaving it open filling the house with the morning light.

Maybe I’ll be Jacob one day and my story will be about how I came to limp.  But, for now, I just feel like a maniac blowing up one order for my own.


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