I am here.

Today I went with a friend to a Unitarian Universalist Sunday service. The sermon included Genesis 32 about Jacob's wrestle with God. The story goes like this: Jacob takes some of his peeps into the desert to (hopefully) reunite with his brother, Esau. On the way to Esau's house, Jacob's peeps observe a crap-ton of men booking it towards them. Jacob, unsure of their intent, sends his near and dear to the far side of the river for safe keeping, and spends the night alone on the ambiguous side of the river. During the night, a man approaches Jacob and they enter into an intense wrestling match. Turns out the other wrestler is God, and the wrestling match goes on and on and on. Finally the God-wrestler punches Jacob in the hip, dislocating it, and commands Jacob to let go. Jacob says, "Not until you bless me," which the God-wrestler does. He gives Jacob a new name, "Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God...and have prevailed."

A few weeks ago, I went to a Sunday school class at the church of my childhood (and nearly my whole adult life). The teacher asked, "Have you ever felt the Spirit of God communicate with you?" People shared experiences about being warned of danger or feeling comfort after loss. I thought of my last message from God. It'd been a few years. A series of unfortunate events left me standing in the smoldering ruins of my sense of self and my understanding of God. At first I was confused, then I was hurt, then I was angry. I took my anger to the ocean, to the woods, to the hills. I ran and ran and ran. One day, boiling with grief and sick with confusion, I stopped on the trail and screamed at the sky. The heavens had been impenetrable for months, but this time God actually answered, "You're angry," he said, "Be angry. It's ok, I can take it. I'm big enough." I let him have it.

Recently, I was talking to my sister on the phone. I told her that I keep asking myself the question, "Why am I here?" Depending on circumstances the emphasis switches from one word to the other:
Why am I here?
Why am I here?
Why am I here?
Sometimes it's an existential question, other times I just really need to know why I walked into the living room for the fortieth time. My smart sister said, "Well, you know what the meditation guy would say, stop asking why, and just note that you are."

Oh, ya. Right.

I am here.
I am here.
I am here.

I'm on a muddy river bank in the middle of nowhere, an uncertain future coming quickly towards me, and I want answers. I have a death grip on God; He's busted out my hip. "Let go," he says. "Not until you bless me!!" I scream.

Now that I know where I am, I've also realized that my story isn't Jacob's story. We're on the same river bank, maybe even wrestling with the same being, but I'm not Jacob, and he's certainly no Rebecca. So I'm just gonna let go now. And I'm gonna sit down right here, on this ambiguous shore, with this new self and I'm just gonna breathe for a minute and watch the sun rise.

I am here. And that, my dudes, is the blessing.