Worship: Wrestle with the One you sing to

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This month's introductory content has been produced by Jasmin. She is originally from Basel in Switzerland but moved to the UK almost a year ago. Jasmin is super creative and loves searching for beauty. She is a worship leader and has written some great songs that you can find on Spotify. Jasmin is part of the Rooted team, which is Equip's ministry to 18–35-year-olds.

Life can be tough, and worship can be even tougher—a costly act. Have you ever found yourself in a worship setting, at church or elsewhere, trying to sing the words of a song but struggling to get them out? Maybe the words don’t seem to match the picture you have of God. Maybe you once sang them easily, but life has pinned you down. Maybe you find yourself in a valley, and it feels more like wrestling for words than singing a song of praise.

Worship can be a wrestle.

And often, I have found myself needing to wrestle with the One I sing to in order to truly mean the words I want to sing.

When I talk about wrestling with the One you sing to I’m talking about honesty, vulnerability, authenticity—blood, sweat, and tears staining the T-shirt of God. I’m talking about the kind of gut-honest conversation you can only have with the One who was both fully man and fully God. The One who truly understands the blood, the sweat, and the tears—and therefore, is worthy of my highest praise.

It’s about wrestling with the God who listens to our biggest “what ifs" and can handle us beating against His chest in confusion and pain.

It’s about wrestling with the question: Do I believe these names of God that we sing out in church?

It’s about finding words to express praise, even when life has pinned you down.

It’s about finding and fighting for the words to answer the question Jesus asks Peter in Matthew 16:

"But who do you say that I am?"

An Encounter That Changes Everything

Let me introduce you to Matthew chapter 16:

Here we read about Jesus walking into the district of Caesarea Philippi and gathering with the twelve disciples. Caesarea Philippi is some 25 miles north of the Sea of Galilee, and it was known for being the centre of Baal idol worship and later the place of the Greek god Pan.

Perhaps Jesus and the disciples sat down for a conversation altogether. Many rumours about who Jesus actually is are circulating within the air that these few are breathing. Jesus asks the twelve: Who do people say that the Son of Man is? And they replied: Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.

I imagine silence filling the air. Jesus turns to Simon Peter with fierce eyes and asks: But who do you say I am? Simon Peter takes a deep breath and replies: You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. Jesus answers: Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven!

Wrestling with the One you sing to is about finding and fighting for the words to answer the question Jesus asks Peter: But who do you say that I am?

As violent and intense as it may seem—wrestling is an intimate thing to do. You cannot wrestle at a distance. You cannot wrestle without touch. You cannot wrestle if you are not willing to lean into proximity. You cannot wrestle without engaging in an exchange of strength and weakness between two individuals.

So it is with worship. Worship can be a wrestle, but that's what makes it intimate. Worship involves heart, mind, and body. It's costly, because you can’t worship at a distance. You can’t worship without risking a touch from God. You can’t worship without leaning into proximity. But the benefit of the wrestle is that you get to know Him. This is why it's good; it brings intimacy. The benefit of worship is we get to know Him. We get to see Him more clearly, which is so important because we have to see Him rightly.

The Blessing Of Wrestling

Wrestling with God about who He says He is can be costly. Wrestling about how to give words to “who He says He is” and raise a song of praise is costly. It simply is costly. It costs us our honesty, vulnerability, authenticity, blood, sweat, and tears—not only these, but it costs us our own pride. It costs us our bitterness. It costs us our idols. It costs us—ourselves.

Why?

Because we all live storied lives, and we're all a mosaic made of scars. We carry wounds, visible ones and invisible ones—on body, soul, and spirit. We walk with broken feet, for we’ve perhaps wandered away from Him more than we were able to awe and wonder at Him. And because maybe there have been way too many unanswered prayers and outcomes that caused our faith to crumble. Maybe rejection has blinded our eyes to truly see Him for who He says He is, and maybe bitterness therefore found soil to make itself at home within us.

But let me tell you, He is worth it. Those who wrestle often walk with a limp, but they have found something worth fighting for—and it is Him. Seeing Him rightly and getting to a place of knowing Him— of trusting that who He says He is, is true—is worth the cost. Worth the wrestle. Worth our worship.

Wrestling To Know Him

There is another story in the Bible that beautifully helps me understand the necessity to wrestle with the One you sing to.

Genesis 32 tells us about a man wrestling with Jacob in the dead of night until the breaking of dawn—a whole night long. Jacob said to the man, I won’t let you go until you bless me. What a strange thing to say to a stranger with whom you have been brawling all night. The swift pivot of the hips seemed to awaken Jacob to the realisation that he might not be facing an ordinary man. The stranger asks him for his name, and after Jacob replied, the stranger tells him that from now on he won’t be called Jacob anymore but Israel. Jacob, obviously perplexed, asks the stranger for his name. The stranger then says: Why do you ask for my name?—because He had already revealed Himself when He gave Jacob his new name:

Israel, the one who wrestles with God.

I can’t get my head around this: As Jacob wrestles, he not only receives a new name but, within it, the information that the man he just wrestled with is God Himself. The man that has caused him to limp—is God.

Jacob was willing to wrestle with God. He was willing to be touched and willing to be known. The story goes on, and Jacob names the place Peniel, which means: It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.

Jacob got to see God face to face. He saw Him rightly. He saw who He is. The way to answer the question Jesus asks Peter: But who do you say that I am? is found in the wrestle itself.

When we wrestle with God, we get to know Him in a way we wouldn’t without the touch, the proximity, and the willingness to be known. Wrestling for the words of praise. Wrestling to sing out that He is a good Father. Wrestling to sing about His faithfulness. Wrestling to sing of His provision. Wrestling to sing about His goodness and Him being healer, friend, and Saviour.

Not only do we get to see Him rightly, but we also get to know ourselves more. The fruit of the wrestle is —we get to know Him, and in the proximity, we also get to know ourselves.

Walking With A Limp

God knows what we need and knows exactly who we need Him to be.

When I walked through my valley of shadow and death, I was desperate for God to be my healer. Desperate for Him to bind up my broken heart. Desperate for a touch. It was so difficult sometimes to sing about His faithfulness to heal me. or to lead worship in the midst of really not feeling it. These were the times where the rubber hit the road. Worshipping Him in the valley as well as on the mountain tops—that requires a wrestle with Him.

I thought I knew how God would heal. And I really didn’t. I thought He’d heal me on the spot and in an instant. Don’t get me wrong—I really believe He is a miracle-working God, and He can bind up a heart that has suffered for a long time in a moment of encounter. That’s how I knew Him so far. I have witnessed Him being the healer in a moment.

But what if that wasn't what I needed? And what if He knows better than me how I need Him to come through in this valley? I realised that although I was desperate for the healer, what I really needed was the Good Shepherd. In hindsight, I needed the slow and steady pace. The healing that comes in a pace of peace. The healing that comes to my whole heart because I allowed myself to not rush through the valley but to pace myself through it.

Eventually, I came out the other end.

Was it a happy end? Yes, God was faithful.

Do I still feel the ache of this season? Definitely.

Do I still carry remnants of pain from this time? 100%.

But in the end, I have not only come to know God still as a healer. I have also got to know Him as my Good Shepherd, for I have seen Him walking with me every step of the way.

Worshipping With A Whole Heart

Those who walk with a limp have often found something worth fighting for.

Maybe you are currently on a mountaintop—you love worshipping Him and have done only a few wrestles.

Maybe you find yourself in a valley season, and you really struggle to hold on to Him and find words to praise Him.

Maybe you are like me—somewhere in between on the journey, and you walk with a limp. But you have definitely found Him. The One who is worth the fight, worth the wrestle, and worth the song. In the wrestle you have come to know Him—truly know Him.

Wherever you are on you journey, wrestling with the One you sing to is about finding and fighting for the words to answer the question Jesus asked Peter.

What would you answer if Jesus asked you today: But who do YOU say that I am?

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Wendy Mann Equip | www.wendymannequip.com

Building Family, Prioritising God's Presence, Extending God’s Kingdom