Fearing his brother’s wrath, the deceitful twin set out into the wilderness to make a life for himself. Every blessing in his life he gained through his own guile, including the stolen blessing of a first-born son from his father. Before it was over, he would go on to manipulate his uncle out of the strongest animals in the flock and he would return home with two wives, twelve sons, and great wealth. By all accounts, Jacob is what our contemporary capitalistic society might call a “self-made man,” even if his means of making it were a bit shady.
As darkness settled over the desert early in his journey to Uncle Laban’s, a bright light shone forth from the clouds as angels descended and ascended on a ladder reaching to the heavens. God’s promise to Abraham now came to Jacob. He would become a great nation on this very land and a blessing to all the world. Eventually the hardness of the rock under his head revealed that it was only a dream, but to Jacob, it was something much more. He awoke saying, “Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it.”
Jacob was raised in a God-fearing home and at least to some degree he held onto the faith instilled in him as a child. Yet like many today who may have grown up with at least some basic training in religious values, Jacob had come to a point in life where he had to find his own way. As he set out to start his own family and career, he was not particularly seeking an encounter with God. He did not stop off at a holy site to pray. In fact, the name of the place is not even known until after his dream. Nor was he facing any immediate crisis that might bring him to his knees. He was simply on an ordinary journey that would lead him from one stage of life to another. It was in this in-between place that God initiates this entirely unexpected encounter with Jacob.
Furthermore, God chooses to meet Jacob in a dream. Walter Brueggemann observes that “the wakeful world of Jacob was a world of fear, terror, loneliness (and, we may imagine, unresolved guilt).”[1] In this conscious world, Jacob strives to remain in control. The more we think we are in control of our lives, the less likely we are to be aware of God’s presence in our midst. As the Lord says through the prophet Jeremiah, “when you search for me, you will find me, if you seek me with your whole heart.”[2] In this moment, Jacob was not searching for God. He was more likely planning his next moves. That is why God chooses to come to Jacob in his sleep, when he is most vulnerable and unable to “conjure the meeting” on his own terms.
The narrative of Jacob points us to the reality of divine in breaking into the common and ordinary places of our world. It is always God who initiates such encounters, even with the most unworthy people. As Jacob watches the angelic messengers climbing up and down this heavenly ladder or ramp, the message is clear: “there is traffic between heaven and earth… Earth is not left to its own resources and heaven is not a remote self-contained realm for the gods. Heaven has to do with earth.”[3] This vision shatters Jacob’s worldview in which he thought he traveled alone and that he alone was responsible for his own survival and success. God was more than an abstract object of spiritual belief with little relevance to everyday life. Rather, the world was now filled with possibility because it was “not cut off from the sustaining role of God.” This revelation is what Brueggemann calls the seed of “incarnational faith.” The hope of humanity stems from this central truth that God chooses to be present with us, that our creator is also our Immanuel.
The place of Jacob’s encounter with God is truly a “thin place” where the veil between heaven and earth is almost entirely transparent. In this moment it is not the angel messengers who speak, but God’s own voice which delivers the promise of God’s ongoing presence and blessing to Jacob. This encounter reminds us that it is not the place itself which makes it holy, sacred, or “thin.” It is the awareness of God’s presence which transforms an ordinary place into a sanctuary and an ordinary stone into an altar.[4] We need specific places for worship to provide order, discipline, and focus, but these places must not become idols, as if they are the only places in which God can be found.
We are all on a journey through the wilderness of life. We cling tightly to control, believing that by whatever means necessary, we alone have the strength to forge our own path. Yet we also share with Jacob this underlying thirst for something more. Something deep within our souls wants to be surprised by God’s presence in our midst.
What “in-between” places do you find yourself in right now? Where are your greatest moments of vulnerability? How might you take advantage of those moments this week to become more aware of God’s presence in your midst?
