Unbeknownst to Jacob, God has Jacob right where he wants him: out of options. Food has run out. Time has run out. But the famine has not run out. Jacob has been dragging his feet about sending his sons back to Egypt for more supplies because he knows that this time, his beloved Benjamin *must* go with them.
Jacob is out of options, that is, except for the options of (1) relying, not upon himself, but upon mercy and (2) relying, not upon himself, but upon others. Not only for Jacob but for all of us, that is a highly unsettling place to be.
None of us willingly place ourselves in situations where we are out of options, where we must rely upon divine mercy and our neighbor’s actions on our behalf. We’re too busy playing divinity in our juvenile galaxies of self-determination. So, in ways sometimes small and sometimes big, the Master of providence picks us up by the scruff of our necks and drops us there. Where we are empty, at our wits’ end. And where we are thus precisely in a situation ripe for divine work in our lives.
It's a terrible place to be because we cannot shepherd events or pull the strings to get what we want. But it’s also a blessed place to be. A vacuum is created within us that the Spirit of God begins to fill. Less of me, more of God. Less of control, more of Christ.
We sit in the dirt with Jacob and fix our eyes on the horizon. We place ourselves under the mighty and merciful hand of a compassionate God. We wait. We hope. And we trust that, no matter what happens, we do not really sit there alone. Jesus is right there beside us. For if there’s one truth we know about Christ, beyond any doubt, it’s that hell and all its demons cannot make him budge one inch from those whom he calls his friends.
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