Wrestling in Prayer

Whatever be the trial, the peculiar trial; the temptation, the peculiar temptation; the perplexity, the sorrow, the anxiety which each burdened soul feels, he is invited, he is encouraged, and sometimes he is mercifully enabled to go with it to the throne of grace. What use is there in venting our complaints into the ears of fellow mortals, of poor, dying worms? Can they relieve? What help could Jacob get from his lamenting wives, his crying children, his timid servants, his bleating sheep, his lowing herds? He had to leave them all. They could not comfort him; they might increase his distress by harrowing up the affections of his heart; but they could not relieve.

Therefore he turns away from them all, to pour his complaint into the ears of that God who is ever mighty to save. He turns away from human help and creature strength and goes as a petitioner to the Lord's footstool of mercy. There he gets an answer, there he obtains deliverance, there he receives that which satisfies his soul, which blesses him and makes him blessed. What profit shall you or I then ever get by pouring our complaints into the ears of some fellow sinner? Or what relief shall we get by keeping our complaints locked up in our bosom?

There is but one place whither we can go for these cares, these anxieties, these perplexities to be removed. And the Lord will bring all His people there. It is no matter of choice with them whether they will go or not. It was no matter of choice with Jacob. There was no wrestling while Jacob was keeping Laban's sheep; there was no wrestling while Jacob was traveling leisurely home. But when difficulty arose; when alarm presented itself; when the sword of revengeful Esau was being withdrawn from its scabbard, and its gleaming edge was about to be sheathed in his heart, then extremity, necessity, urgency all met together in Jacob's bosom; and meeting together, they pressed this cry out of his lips, "I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me."

And will this not be the case with all the Lord's living family? I may go to the footstool of mercy; I may bend my knees; I may lift up my hands; I may use words; breath, breath; the mere talk of the lips that tends to penury; that like the eddying smoke curls round and round, and never rises higher than the ceiling of the roof. But when the Lord is pleased to lay some urgent necessity upon a man's heart (and this He ever does in the experience of all His people, though in different times and in different ways), and at the same time pours out a spirit of grace and supplication, and raises up and draws forth into exercise living faith, then he will, yea, he must come to the throne of mercy; not because it is his duty, or his privilege; not out of custom nor tradition, nor from what he has learned from men or imbibed in childhood. All these things are effectually slain.

But he comes under the immediate operation of the Spirit, under His immediate teaching, leading, and guiding, under His supportings and blessed enablings. He it is who puts the cry into the heart and language into the lips and intercedes in the soul with unutterable groanings, until in God's own time and way the answer comes, full of mercy, grace, and peace; an answer that amply satisfies, and more than amply satisfies every desire of the praying heart. "I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me."

But some may say, "It seems almost like presumption in Jacob thus to speak. What could he have felt of the divine majesty to use such irreverent language?" It was not so, my friends, it was not so. There was deep révérence mingled with faith in his soul; but his necessity compelled him. The Lord did not resent it. He did not rush upon the bosses of God's buckler; he did not intrude presumptuously into God's presence with a lying tale and feigned lip. His was not the language of mock humility that offends God more than the language of confidence when He Himself raises it up. But the Lord Himself raised up these cries in Jacob's soul and put these petitions in Jacob's lips, and the Lord Himself acknowledged it and honored it with His manifested blessing, for He said to him, "Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israël: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed."

How many wrestling Jacobs have we with us today? Just so many as have urgent cases; just so many as the Lord is powerfully dealing with; just so many as the Lord is laying trying perplexities and difficulties before their eyes and upon their hearts. And how many mock prayers have gone up before God this morning? How many unanswered petitions have ascended before the throne? From every heart not circumcised to fear God's name; from every unburdened, unexercised, unhumbled professor; from every one that knows nothing of living faith mingled with his petitions and cries. So many sorrowing souls, so many earnest cries; so many urgent cases, so many urgent petitions; so many cases of extremity; so many cases of importunity; so many wrestling Jacobs, so many prevailing Israels.

Wherever not the words, but the substance of them, has gone out of laboring, burdened, sorrowing, groaning hearts this morning, the answer is in the Lord's bosom already stored up, and in His own time and in His own way, He will fully, He will amply, He will blessedly give you, who look to His throne in simplicity and godly sincerity, the desire of your souls. For wherever He has created the fruit of the lips, He will answer; wherever He has indited the language of supplication in the soul, His ear is open to hear, His heart is open to feel, and His bounteous hand is open richly and mercifully to bestow.

In September it was 200 years ago that J. C. Philpot was born. His writings and his editorship of the Gospel Standard magazine for many years made his name familiar to many. He died at the age of 67 years.

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